My legs making my brain shut up

Anyone who is into cycling has heard of Jens Voigt. The legendary tough guy of Grand Tours who thrills fans with his breaks and his willingness to turn himself inside out in an effort to win a stage.

Probably his most famous quote is “Shut up legs” which is what he says to himself when his body tried to ease up in a race.

 

But when running I think I must be the anti-Jens Voigt because my legs aren’t the problem - it’s my stupid wimpy brain. Here’s a recent internal battle I had during an interval session on a treadmill.

--

Legs: Well this is going well. I feel like I’m flying. I might actually be faster than Quicksilver at this moment in time.
 

Brain: I need to look at the stopwatch.
 

Legs: Back off. You know it’s not over yet.

Brain: Need to. *checks stopwatch* Oh noes! There’s still 40 seconds left.

Legs: So what? We are Kool and the Gang right now.
 

Brain: Negatory. Ribs hurt - I think he’s getting a stitch
 

Ribs: He’s right. I defo hurt right now. So bad.
 

Legs: Brain’s fooling you Ribs. He’s trying to make you make me stop.

Brain: Ooo I am not. You take that back
 

Legs: Brain! Make Torso stand up straight!

Brain: *mumbles*
 

Ribs: Woah. That is loads better.
 

Brain: 20 seconds left. I can’t take it - I’m going to make Stomach throw up.
 

Legs: Do it then.
 

Stomach: Don’t bring me into this. I’m always on a light trigger anyway.
 

Brain: But there’s people watching. It’ll be embarrassing - you can’t really want me to throw up?
 

Legs: Look you fun-loving money-crusher. Throw up or shut up - we are doing this.

(nb: this was written before the watershed)
 

Brain: Aaargh. Arms have started to feel funny.
 

Arms: We don’t mind. It never lasts long.
 

Brain: I have spots in front of my eyes
 

Legs: No you don’t that’s a fly. We are doing this.
 

Brain: Woah. Only 5 seconds to go - may as well stop now.
 

Legs: I will come up there and kick you in the frontal lobe if you make Hands touch that dial.
 

Brain: I’m so thirsty.
 

Legs: *growls*
 

Brain: Wait a second. Wahey - we made it. I feel so alive
 

--- As the treadmill slows from 21 kph to 6kph, Nirvana’s Jesus Don’t Want Me For a Sunbeam comes on my headphones ---
 

Legs: See. Work hard, get your reward.
 

Brain: No way! You did not make that happen.
 

Legs. It’s Karma dude, it’s fucking Karma (nb: that sentence was written after 9pm)
 

Brain: I love you man.