I ran 5 kilometres on a treadmill this morning. This is easily the furthest I’ve run indoors or indeed out for at least 10 years. Now sitting in my kitchen writing this over an hour later I’m still waiting for the random muscle spasms in my right calf muscle to subside, and as the old euphemism says ‘my feet are absolutely killing me’

It’s all my youngest sons fault. Walking him home yesterday after watching him and another 50 odd ten-year olds all blessed with boundless energy running around the school playing fields in a cross-country race, I felt duty bound (as all fathers do) to regal him with slightly exaggerated tales of my own athletic achievements ‘when I was your age’ He’s a good lad, and listened to me rattling on for a few minutes before yawning and changing the subject. I’m sure I detected a gleam of cynicism in his young eyes however.

The thing is, I actually was a half decent runner in my long-lost school days. Never fast, my hobbit like legs saw to that, but I did have stamina and generally the longer the distance the better I did. Ok, I was no undiscovered Usain Bolt, but it was enough to get me into the athletics squad and hence out of art on a Friday afternoon.

Sorry, I’m rambling again. So this morning the rain was horizontal. The thought of going out on any sort of bicycle was exceedingly unappealing. So of I toddle to the gym. You know, the place lots of us join just after new year on a years membership, then spend the next 12 months feeling vaguely guilty about never going. I have been sporadically this year, what usually happens is I turn up, jog on the treadmill for around 15 minutes, make a token effort at lifting few weights, either tweak a muscle or get bored (neither usually takes that long) and I’m more often than not home inside an hour.

This morning I stood on the treadmill and with the previous days boasting (I mean reminiscing ) still fresh I decided to see if I could push the old legs a bit further than normal and recapture a bit of my lost youth. 5K seemed an achievable ambition, I usually manage about 3K ish before my legs tell me to stop, but I was sure I could push the old bones a bit further.

For the first 20 minutes or so up to my usual 3 kilometre mark I wouldn’t say all was well, but the discomfort was supportable. The last two Kilometres however, were a different story. Interminable agony would be the best way to describe it. The distance counter on the remorseless torture device I was limping along on seemed to take a perverse pleasure in ticking over slowly. My legs alternately felt numb, then rubbery, then as if some vindictive giant was using my shins as a pin cushion.

To make matters worse a chirpy young lady appeared on the machine next door to me for the last agonising 5 minutes of the final kilometre, and as she seemingly floated along effortlessly beside me I could see her occasionally glancing my way with fleeting expressions of concern mixed with pity………. at least she had the good grace not to flinch as the odd drop of sweat got flicked in her direction.

At last the magic 5 K mark was reached and as the treadmill clicked into cool down mode and slowed the pace to a fast walk I damn near overbalanced and almost fell into the control panel. As I grasped the bar below the controls to save myself my hands came naturally to rest on the machines built-in sensors that display the sufferers heart rate, and as a final indignity it flashed up a reading just under the 200 bpm mark in big flashing red figures on the display along with a warning that my heart rate was dangerously high. I half expected a crash team of paramedics to burst in and rush to my aid, but mercifully it seems the treadmill had decided to keep the news of my imminent expiry to itself.

I’ll draw a discreet veil over the rest of my mornings visit to the gym. Suffice to say my efforts on the treadmill had completely and comprehensively drained the tank, and after a couple of token efforts on some of the horribly complex weights machines which I can never remember how to adjust properly I made a tactical retreat home for a restorative bacon sarnie. As I hobbled out of the gym my erstwhile running companion was still loping along on her treadmill looking as if she could keep running all day……..

Well I’m kind of glad I did it, it’s always good to occasionally push yourself out of your comfort zone and I’ve proved to myself that even when I think I’m about to expire I can push myself a little bit further, a lesson I shall remind myself of next time i’m about to give up on a climb and get off and start pushing.

Will the 5K challenge become a regular part of my exercise routine? not blinking likely! My best running days are most definitely behind me. (Bit like my cycling days really 🙂