Baby Elephants determined to get this done. She’s not going to let anything rain on her parade. The good weather is just around the corner, and she’s ready to keep moving forward, even if she feels a bit like a beached whale dreaming of swimming.
Week 2 Start: Confidence and Company
Week 2 of Couch to 5K. The baby elephant returns, slightly faster and sassier. After completing the three runs of Week 1, I’m feeling a flicker of confidence. So I start Week 2 with another one-way run—yes, still walking back the same distance, but it’s progress.
My daughter, on her own fitness journey, floats the idea of joining me with my grandson. I smile and say, "That’ll be nice," while internally bracing for the hare-and-tortoise dynamic. Five years ago, I could’ve started this challenge at Week 5. Now? I’m clinging to Week 2 like it’s a life raft. But encouragement is encouragement—even if it comes with a side of speed humiliation.
Solo Run and Weather Challenges
Plot twist: she’s unwell and bails. I go solo. Later than planned, but mornings are my sweet spot—spring in Auckland is a roulette wheel of hot, wet, and windy. I make it to the park before the tide turns me back. A future treat spot for my grandson, I think. Generation run, anyone?
Run 2: Rain and Resolve
Then comes Run 2. And the rain. Not the poetic drizzle kind. The “you’ll be soaked before you hit the footpath” kind. Excuses start lining up like they’re auditioning for a role in my procrastination drama. But I’ve run in rain before. I own a cap. My shoes grip like geckos. The garden’s on hold anyway—noxious weed poison needs to dry, and today’s forecast says “nope.”
I dress for the run during school drop-off. Fifteen minutes later, the rain lightens. No excuses now. I launch. And I notice something: my final run interval starts where last week’s ended. Progress. Real, soggy progress.
Victory in the Wet
The tide’s out, the wind’s chill but not cruel, and I get to run along the beach. Puddles? I dodge them like a ninja. My shoes still end up soaked, but I pretend it’s a badge of honour. No skids. No slips. No raindrop beating me into submission.
Hot shower. Wet clothes in the wash. Endorphins doing their victory dance. I didn’t bail. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t let the weather write my story.
This baby elephant is moving. And she’s got sass.
You are the star of your own story.
Rain or shine, no storm can wash away your spotlight. Keep running—don't let anything rain on your parade.
