Sometimes the darkness sneaks in through the cracks. I'm only human, I guess. But I type these words with chagrin because I should have known better.
I entered The Guzzler, a trail running event that annually takes place in the hills of Brisbane Forest Park. Serious people run the hundred or fifty-kilometre challenge. Comparitively, I entered the 10K 'easy version' which had a time limit of three-and-a-half hours.
Given my familiarity with the area around Mount Cootha, average fitness, and ability to keep going when it hurts, covering the distance within the time limit would be simply a matter of getting started and maintaining pace.
I planned to hike the route. My running training ended abruptly in May when I got COVID. As soon as I got over COVID, I got a nasty cold. And, as soon as I recovered from that, I got nasty cold redux.
Given I didn't want my heart to explode while jogging up Mt Cootha, I opted to take it easy.
Then I made a big mistake.
I watched videos of people competing in the event. It was clear I was not one of those people. They were lithe, fast, and very fit. In contrast, I am, well, not.
That was when the darkness crept in. Who was I kidding? I don't belong there. I am not a trail runner. I'm an overweight suburban dad who primarily deals with his metaphysical eunni by way of chocolate, naps, and video games.
Admittedly, there are worse vices. I should know because I've had them. But, still...
The alarm went off at 0545 on Sunday morning and my mood hadn't changed. Despite the fact it had never stopped me before, I got it into my head I was going to make a dickhead of myself. I turned off the alarm and went back to sleep.
The darkness won.
Temporarily.
My son later woke me so we could play video games. I soon realised I was in the place I was meant to be. With him. Having fun together.
The Guzzler can wait another twelve months. I'll just have to make sure the darkness doesn't get a chance to sabotage me.