Learning to be better at not running

Despite soaking up the blessings that were thick in the air at the Nun's Run, the little 4km trot turned out to be an instance of enjoy now, pay later. I'd had a particularly unpleasant bout of flu for the previous fortnight but by the day of the run it seemed to have faded to just a sniffle. However, on the way home ominous feelings of crumminess started to swirl in my innards and these turned out to be the first signs of the flu settling in for another two week season.

I remember someone commenting to me once: why don't life's inconveniences stick to the times allocated for them ?

To which I might add (in my most peevish tone): And why can't they stay in single-file rather than bustling in all at once ?

The flu had arrived at the same time that I'd finally weaned myself off anti-depressant medication. I thought perhaps this might be to my advantage in a perverse sort of way. The general line of reasoning was that if you already feel ghastly then whatever withdrawal symptoms arise will be drowned out like hecklers at a bad, but loud, concert. Actually, that didn't work. It turned out to be more like being trapped in a very bad concert where the hecklers get up on stage and join in.

Given all of this, running has been off the menu, replaced by feeble and pathetic shuffling around the house. I have noticed its absence. So have those around me. I've slowed down and an old black dog has caught up with me again.

So, it seems that as well as learning more about running I also need to learn how to be better at not running: because life is always going to be punctuated by stumbles and falls of one sort or another.

I've a way to go with this.