From Couch Potato to Runner Bean – My 5k Extravaganza

I’ve never liked running. In fact, I’ve been known to detest it. I admire those who do it but could not fathom why someone would just run for the sake of it with no spectacular end destination in mind or unless, of course, they were running from zombies. I’ve great admiration for them, but overall, it seemed a rather fruitless activity to me. My general disdain was further compounded when I’d hear people say things like, “Oh, I’m not a runner, I can’t run, I mean I can run 5k, but I’m not a runner.” This was even more reason to dislike it. I mean, for some of us, 5k would be like winning the London City Marathon ten times over. 

It was, therefore, much to my surprise – as anyone else’s – that in late January of this year, I had the sudden urge to run. Flasberghasting stuff. Where to? I’ve no idea. Why? Also, no clue. Perhaps the intensity of lockdown had finally made me crack. One thing I did know is, I had never felt this voluntary desire before, so I knew I had to act fast. I downloaded the Couch to 5k app, and with my wonderful housemate and dear friend, we started at the last run of Week 3. This decision was made based on the fact I wasn’t going from being a complete sofa spud due to the umpteen pandemic induced walks I’d do in a day. And off I went. 

I nearly died the first night. Running for three minutes straight seemed completely out of my league. Three full fat minutes. Let me not sugarcoat the chaos. Every step was awful. My internal dialogue was shocking. Welcome every insecurity I ever had coming up for air. I hated myself for running and for not running. How abysmal the whole thing was. Not long after came 5 minutes of the same mayhem. Similarly, I believed death to be near. Don’t get me started on eight. It was torturous.

It’s as if the more I ran, the more I cleared any excess internal crap that was getting in my way.

Why did I keep going? Well, I’m thirty-three and bar enjoying the outdoors, I’m not very fit. I don’t go to the gym or work out regularly. And I’ve never consistently kept up any sport or cardio activity. I have had fantastic experiences in the past with some trainers. I even ran a little as part of a programme but I never got past a handful of weeks or anywhere near the 5k, so it all fell by the wayside. So in a way, I felt like this was my chance to change that narrative. And what had I to lose? It’s not like things could get much worse than the grimness of endless Covid-19 restrictions, in January, in Ireland. I mean, all I’d miss out on was another night in.

Then something very interesting happened. Over time, as my minutes of running without stopping increased, my internal dialogue changed. It became more positive and focused on what I was achieving rather than what I wasn’t. It’s as if the more I ran, the more I cleared any excess internal crap that was getting in my way. Sure, there were certain kilometres where I struggled each time. But ultimately when I would break through the wall, I experienced the duality of this, where I fully synced in tandem with my breath, my environment and my body. 

Before I knew it, my daily long walk turned into a very short run, the world started to seem tiny, and I felt fantastic. Is this what runners feel like? Are they addicted to this brief euphoria and sense of empowerment? Don’t get me wrong; every run is different because every day of your life is different. From the run where it’s going well only to be caught in the nostrils by some dog’s flatulence to the time I really didn’t want to go, but I end up doing better than I’d hoped – and every(run) in between. Either way, I was beginning to understand why people do it. But it wasn’t over yet. I still had to hit my 5k target.

Then one day and not the day according to the app that I’d to reach 5k, I started running. This wasn’t my usual route. I met several unexpected uphill battles, literally. The tail end of a wind warning belted me in the face, the new road’s surface was harder than usual, every part of my body ached, and I’d an emptier belly than I should. And it was on this faithful day when I had everything that I would once allow to get in my way that I ran 5k.

Perhaps because it was unplanned and I didn’t psyche myself out, or that I didn’t expect too much from myself because of the conditions, or maybe because I could actually do it now, it doesn’t matter how. All that does, is that I did it. And when that beep went off to sound the 5k mark, I leapt in the air, arms, legs and all, with the ultimate joy and let out the loudest yelp, much to the confusion of the passers-by. I felt victorious. I was victorious. A real triumph for those who believed they could never do it.This ended up being as much about sustainability as it was about achievement.

On reflection, figuring out what works for me is what led to my success. My biggest challenge was breaking through the psychological wall of doubt, and I ensured my runs helped me do this through trial and error, of course. The first few weeks, I ran with my friend, and I didn’t use music. Now, I don’t know how I did either. My pumped up playlist quickly became a reliable motivator. I also learned that although I liked travelling to the destination with others to run, for a bit of camaraderie and support, I ultimately preferred running on my own because I wasn’t focused on not keeping up. I could just do my own thing.  

I also knew if I put this endeavour as the top priority and had told everyone, it would be too much pressure to succeed at something I hadn’t followed through on before. Or, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep it as a top priority and ultimately give up feeling like I’d failed. This, in many ways, became a personal campaign to tackle my deep-seated notion that running wasn’t for me, that I’m not athletic and hopefully, secretly weave in a consistent physical activity to my lifestyle. This ended up being as much about sustainability as it was about achievement. So I made it about a third on my list and told only a handful of friends. I made sure I got in the three runs on the app per week, but I didn’t stress if, let’s say, I only did two the week I was unwell. And this worked for me.

…any steps you run are steps you hadn’t run a few minutes ago; it doesn’t matter how many that is.

So what now, I thought, as I have reached my ultimate in sports? I could see no greater success story than this for my little newly toned legs. For the following months, I ran 5k about three times a week. I turned to it for joy, for release, or a break. It was never about beating my time – and trust me, everyone will ask about your time. I’m not interested in that. As one friend suggested, maybe make one run per week about my personal best, and the rest just enjoy them. I did it once and beat my PB by over 2 minutes which made me wonder if I was even trying at all. But I don’t care; it’s not about being faster or covering more ground; it’s about me, just me, taking some time for myself, pounding the roads and clearing the mental and physical cobwebs in the fresh air. That’s all, and that’s exactly what I need it to be.

What next? Well, I fell off the bandwagon while relocating, so now, I’m trying to get back on it because I know I can. This time, it’s in a hotter climate. So far, I’ve run about 2.5k at the crack of dawn, where the real feel is always over 30 degrees celsius. It’s not quite the 5k but I still choose to see this as an achievement rather than failure because any steps you run are steps you hadn’t run a few minutes ago; it doesn’t matter how many that is. I’ll keep you posted when I make it to the 5k (again). For now, all I’ll say is, if I can run, anyone can.