Marathon runners speak about "the wall", which they encounter after about 20 miles. I'm only in training for the Flora Women's Mini-Marathon, but it seems I've already hit mine. It happened down by the docks the other morning. After I'd been jogging for a grand total of five minutes, the Great Wall of Nooooo I Can't Do This Any More appeared before me, writes Róisín Ingle.
Thankfully, only a few ducks were around to witness my anguish. That's why I train early in the morning.
For the past few weeks I've been using a running plan given to me by a fellow mini-marathon participant. It's meant to be foolproof. The first morning you run for a minute, then walk for a minute, repeating it 10 times. Even this was an achievement for me. I staggered home from Fairview Park stupidly pleased with myself. I put a big tick on that section of my home-made running wall chart. The very last part of the plan states simply: "Run 10k!" I decided to take it one day at a time, resisting the urge to scribble "As if!" on the chart.
My boyfriend agreed to train me. This was brave of him. He jogs at my side with a stopwatch three mornings a week. He imagined it might be a pleasant activity for us to do as a couple. During the first few sessions he realised he must have been raving to ever think that. He has also learned a few things he didn't know before. That he's never to talk to me while I am jogging, especially about what a lovely day it might or might not be. That he's never to let me see him check the watch, because it reminds me that I can't stop for ages. That he's to run at least three steps behind me, because his fit, unpanting self wrecks my haphazard, noisy-breathing jogging buzz. He learned these things the hard way.
Despite our early differences we got into a groove, and I began to do more exercise than I had since 1984, when for about half a term I was a rather useful member of my school basketball team. On the mornings I am not jogging I am in the New You gym, lifting weights. Sunday is my only day of rest.
With all this exercise I was expecting a radical physical transformation, but it hasn't happened. Lying on the sofa, sipping red wine, marvelling at the genius of Podge and Rodge and nibbling Japanese breadsticks dipped in dark chocolate, I reflected on why my jeans fitted me no better yet. Then I decided it didn't matter as long as I was getting fitter, which I thought was a mature thought worthy of a real athlete.
As well as hearing about the wall, I've heard some athletes get a bit obsessive-compulsive about their training. They start lining up their natural yogurts in a certain way in the fridge. They are also loathe to change their training routines even slightly, in case it impedes their progress. I should have taken this on board. I don't think it was a coincidence that the day I hit the wall I not only wore different runners but also opted for an alternative training venue. I couldn't be bothered to find a clean tracksuit, either, and wore my jeans instead. None of it, especially the last part, boded well.
The plan for that day was to run for eight minutes, then walk for two, and I had to do it three times. The first eight minutes nearly killed me, but the fact that I had progressed to that stage was encouraging. As I jog I find it's vital to think you-can-do-this thoughts. Unfortunately, halfway through the next eight minutes I saw an image of myself running the mini-marathon. Visualisation, I think they call it. In this image I kept accidentally bashing into other runners, and then thousands of other women were laughing at me, and then I got out of breath and had to be carted off by the St John Ambulance crew. "Nooooo, I can't do this any more," I screamed, scaring the ducks and falling to my knees in the style of an athlete at the 20-mile mark.
As an athlete you need to get back in the saddle, so to speak. When I finish this I am off to Fairview Park in the correct runners, not wearing my jeans, to try the next marker on the running plan. Run 10 minutes, walk two minutes, twice. It will be the making of mini- marathon me - or yet another brick in the wall.Róisín Ingle is running the mini-marathon, on June 5th, for Care Local (www.carelocal. com), a charity that supports older people