Running and most other sports are portrayed by the media as clean, attractive, muscular, slim, neat and shiny.
Its not. And if it is your simply not putting in any effort.
Once, when lifeguarding at a leisure centre I watched girls trot in and out of the gym covered in make-up, slick hair and primark leggings. Obviously no intention of sweating or panting going on there!! Their only intention was to drool over muscular fools, make themselves feel better about going out and drinking pints of lager followed by a heart-attack inducing chips & cheese and a facebook check-in 'at the gym with ma main girl ready for tonights partayy'
Obviously a discussion about why women do sport to go off on there...but right now my ramble is about the fact that real sport has NO modesty. Its about blood, sweat and tears.
Love it, accep it, get over it, just do not think about it.
This story is dedicated to Leanne Pretlove. Who until now is the only person who knows this full story.
The scene is Newton's Fraction Half Marathon, 6 weeks until my Edinburgh marathon. I am aiming for a marathon pace time-no biggy, in my local area and a nice sunny day.
All is well, 6 miles in and I'm faster than I should be and I feel FAB! Running is smooth and strong along the canal, I take over the blonde I have been shadowing and can see no other female ahead. Brilliant.
Then 10 miles in, 3.1 to go. My stomach churns, Its like a stab in the guts, a huge hill is about to come, and I know this one too well. Last nights microwave defrosted prawns are about to take revenge on my chomping the down. Question. Do I smash on up this hill and allow these prawns to make a complete show of myself, murdering my insides whilst I run?
Or do I dive in nearest bush and relieve my poor tummy behind a bush?
The bush won. The bush is behind nettles and is also covered in thorns.
30 seconds later I am sprinting up the sodding hill, covered in nettle stings, everywhere! Blood flowing down my leg from being attacked by thorns for my stupidity with the prawns.
See. No modesty. How to cope? Dont think about it. Think about the positives. At least I didnt sprint finish around the athletics stadium sh**tting myself..
proof that sh*t happens.