Wednesday, 28 May 2014

Running Resolve

So it’s happened.  It turns out there really does come a time in a lardy-bottomed writer’s life when one has to face the fact that spending a lot of time sat on one’s derriere crafting words of wisdom while scoffing fistfuls of biscuits does not a slim-line make.  No matter if you’ve spent a hitherto jammy life as a skinny Minnie, debauchery catches up in the end.  ‘So what?’ a slimmer friend shrugged while I was lamenting my middle-aged spread. ‘Just buy bigger clothes’.

That’s not happening.  One, I’m too much of a scrooge to buy new clothes when there’s plenty of wear left in the ones I already have, and two I don’t like this (whispers) muffin-top (eeeerugh) splurging from their restraints.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

There was a pair of running shoes lurking in the cupboard under the stairs, bought and never used once the glow of enthusiasm dimmed like the memory of the London Olympics. (I have a shocking memory)  I put them on, found the faded tracksuit bottoms, another relic of earlier ‘keepfit’ notions, from the bottom of the drawer, downloaded a training app (run! walk! run! great job!) and an album perpetuating to be ‘100 greatest running tracks’.  Fired up, I hit the pavements, ahem, running.  And promptly remembered

1. I hate running.
2. I hate getting hot and sweaty and out of breath, and most of all
3. I hate bumping into people I know while I’m running, hot, sweaty and out of breath, and clad in ridiculous sportswear.

It is you!  Hi Sam, didn’t recognise you dressed like that.
I didn’t know you were a runner.
What are you doing, training for the London Marathon (sniggers)
Never had you down for a keep-fit fanatic (hahahahaha)

How embarrassing.

And there’s no respite at home.  In between lots of guffawing about ‘jogging mamas’, the name we used to give a couple of school run mums who’d turn up at the school gate in full day-glo-lycra glory, Son-the-elder reckons I’m going to turn into some sort of muscle-bound colossus.  Apparently this is a hysterically funny joke if you’re a teenager; personally I don’t get it.

Anyway, running resolve aside, I had a lovely day yesterday with the half-term teenagers 'chez papa'.  I dug, weeded and planted until late into the evening, a perfect day complete with 'al-fresco' wine, birds cheeping, bees buzzing.  It was still perfect until I woke this morning, tried to move, and realised everything hurts.  Everything, from the neck down .  I’ve pulled muscles I didn’t even know I had.  So despite today being a run day, no run today.  Ah, resolve.  I can see it sliding away from me like a ship launching down the slipway of good intentions gone bad.  Still, the garden looks nice.  And these biscuits are rather good.  And I could probably do with some new jeans……

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