10: The Dialogue That Is A Monol0gue, Really

March 2018

I eat a good breakfast full of protein and fibres, then wait an hour and fifteen minutes before I mindfully start to warm up; I make an iskiate drink that’ll give me the energy to move on; I have a new phone with a functioning battery and all the useful apps are running while all the distracting ones have been shut off; iTunes is waiting with a perfect running playlist, I’m all set to run 12k today.

My friend calls. We’re on the phone for two hours straight. By the time I go out, I’m so hungry, my run’s a disaster. 

Now, to be clear, every start of my runs is disastrous. I hate the first kilometre. I absolutely loathe it. Like an abusive boyfriend, my mind goes through these exact same gaslighting techniques every fucking time:

Ugh, running. Are we seriously doing this again? 

Ignoring the voice |

Why are you doing this again? 

Hey? Hey? Hey? Hey? Chris? Hello? Chris? Hey? Chris? Hello? 
Why are you doing this again? It’s not a rhetorical question. 
I’m just curious. I’ve forgotten. Why are you running?

| It clears my head. |

So you’ve got a full head and THIS is how you treat yourself?
I don’t know, it sounds like you could use a break more than you could use the fatigue.

| I need to train for the half-marathon. |

I need to. I have to. I must."
Sounds very healthy, indeed!

Ignoring the voice |

Isn’t the half-marathon still like…
weeks away? Months, even?

Ignoring the voice |

I just don’t quite understand why you’d prioritize running
over a pizza
or curry noodles
or cassave chips
or Tony Chocolonely’s dark almond sea salt chocolate-

| Shut the fuck up. |

I understand you’re hungry, but there’s no need to get aggressive.

Evy tells me that at this moment, I’ve been running for 5 minutes|

Five minutes already! 
That’s GREAT! You can almost stop.
Isn’t there scientific proof that if you want to get in shape, 7 minutes of workout a day will suffice?

| Maybe, but not if you’re train- |

You’re ALMOST at 7 minutes.
Why don’t you go home and reward yourself with an episode of Crazy ExGirlfriend?
COME ON. You know you want it.

| No. |

I know you want it. Cause you’re a good girl…



The bad news: the voice is here to stay.
The good news: it stays only for the first 7 minutes. It dies down without me even noticing, somewhere between hitting the 1k-point and slaloming through bikes and cars to cross the road. 
The best news: nothing is as exhausting as this perpetual inner dialogue, not even training for a half-marathon. And I’ve been living with that voice for quite some time now, so I think I can handle a bit of run training.  

Today, though, it’s different. The monologue doesn’t die down. After 3 kilometres, I give up.

As I slowly make my way home, I expect it to rage about my resign, but there’s nothing. I try its criticism for size. “You’re such a quitter";  “You will never make it to 21k”, it goes. But the words evaporate like smoke from a dead match. 

I come home, shower, eat something fairly unhealthy which I fairly enjoy, and I write down: 6 k interval training, in a slow pace, with lots of walks in between. 

The Voice: Silencing Edition. 
Now eat that



I can and I will probably write about you. But I will name you differently. No correspondence will be entered in respect of this name-giving. You'll just have to deal with it.

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