I started running this week.
I signed up to run a 5k event in October too.
Those who know me in real life have been shocked, impressed and slightly suspicious as to who this body snatcher is inhabiting their friend.
I didn't do running. I wouldn't run for a bus. I wouldn't run for anything really. Not that I was lazy, though I was dreadfully unfit of course, but I just didn't do running.
Now I get up at 6am and go for a half an hour run with the aid of the Couch 2 5k programme.
Yep. You heard right. 6am. SIX. In the AM.
Those who know me in real life are again wondering if body snatchers like to get up early.
Believe me, nobody is more surprised about this than me.
But I am addicted. On rest days I am restless, waiting for the next time I get to put my trainers on and go for it.
So what caused the change?
I nearly died. I had pneumonia and nearly died. I ended up on death's door at Bristol Royal Infirmary with double pneumonia and asthma so severe I nearly died.
Do you know what that's like? To feel your life draining away because you can't get a breath? To know that unless you fight, I mean LITERALLY, fight for your life that everything you love is gone forever? Do you know how it feels to actually nearly give into the temptation to just let go? To just let yourself slip away and no longer be?
It's fucking scary.
So when I got out of hospital I stopped smoking, I started eating healthily and started walking more.
Then I got the urge to run.
I heard that exercise is good for depression. I think that if you manage to get out of bed with depression that you are already winning, but I have to say that on the days when I run I am happy. Really happy.
Knackered. But happy.
When I am out there I get strange looks sometimes. I could do with a sports bra to keep my jelly belly still to be honest as it slows me down a bit. I get honked at by van drivers, I get giggled at by dog walkers, this mad, beetroot coloured, sweating, panting woman who is trying to just run for one more minute. Just one more. Come on Deeva, you can do this. You can run for another minute...
There is also that sweet moment when the woman on your running app tells you RUN just as the bass drops on Flux Pavillion's Bass Cannon in your ears and that makes you feel invincible.
I go out really early and sometimes I worry about that. I am vulnerable to attack, to fat shaming, to the perception that if anything were to happen to me that I was asking for it (I wear VERY short shorts).
But I don't even care. I run.
And this is why I run.
At 6am the world belongs to me. I don't have to look good. I don't have to smell good. I just have to run.
I don't have to be polite to people I don't like. I don't have to be anyone at all. I just have to run.
I am not in competition with anyone. I am good enough. I am the best that I can be. I don't have to worry that anyone is judging me. I just have to run.
The wind is in my hair. I can hear my blood. I can feel the road through my feet. Water tastes like nectar. My breath is ragged then smooth. It is vital. I am alive. I am me. I am alive, alone, doing something that is just for me and nature is running with me, though me.
I am exhilarated. I am addicted to that exhilaration. I am a goddess.
I run.
