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)
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……