Guess who’s back, back again? BOT’s back, tell a friend. (This is obviously sung to this tune) Yes it’s me, I’m back, it’s sunny and it’s nearly competition time.
Through the wind and rain, during temperatures so cold it’s hurt to breathe, after exhausting days at work I have been down at that track, practising drills and improving my run. Okay so this sentence rings far truer if you take out all the days I missed due to holidays, feeling a bit of a wimp or working late but you get the gist, I have (occasionally) trained throughout this extremely long winter. And now, to reap the benefits.
The problem however with benefit reaping is that to do this it means I must actually go to competitions. Had I been posed this conundrum 10 years ago I would not even have batted an eyelid. I lived for competitions, the chance to get out and show the world (the rival local schools) what I could do. However although I love the thrill of running flat out, I realise now I probably loved competitions as much as I did because I always won. Or certainly sat high up the finishing position list. I am not a good loser. Which is where the benefit reaping and I are apparently not doing so well currently.
This season, when the incredibly low level senior (YES SENIOR) women’s league kicks off, the truth of the matter is, I won’t win. I won’t even be placed most likely. This is because athletics is actually not that easy and although I am an on and off member of the jogging set, the difference between a casual saunter around the local park and asking your body to move as quick as it possibly can over a shortish distance are two very different things. Its like football and rugby, they’re vaguely alike in that there’s teams, a pitch and a ball etc, but that’s where the similarities end. When I first started training on that hazy day back in August Coach Man told us all that what we had been doing before was a bit like banger racing, where as athletics is Formula 1, a sentiment I am finally beginning to understand. 10 years is a long time to be away from something and although I seem to have a maddeningly demanding competitive side when I get to the track, if I don’t face the reality that I won’t be as good as I was when I was a teenage I’m going to end up hating and ruining something I get so much enjoyment out of.