For some time now I’ve had this desire to run. I don’t know why, but I did [note past tense]. I used to love running As A Child … careless abandon, running through the streets, the park, the fields … I had this romantic notion I wanted to do that again … run along the golden sands of a north east beach … run through the cornfields in rural England …
What the fuck was I thinking, just What The Fuck?!!
I’m unequivocally *not* built for running. I think my internal organs have relocated themselves to somewhere in my lower body cavity. All of them. I *may* have a prolapse or two and my thighs feel like concrete!
Things I’ve learnt:
1. I’m not built for or indeed meant to run, The Fuck!!
2. My trousers fall down when I run, because of no.1! As do my knickers.
3. Putting your iPod in the back of your jogging bottoms exacerbates no.2!
4. When you’re a pear-shape not only do your trousers fall down, but your top won’t stay on your hips, it rides more northward than a north thing.
5. I go very very red (see exhibit A)
6. 2+4+5= not attractive At All, plus lots of hitching and pulling down.
7. It is possible to get lost *apparently* in crouch end
I did a paltry 1.4 miles (2.27km.. it sounds so much better in kms) ~ I have absolutely no idea how, or indeed why anyone can and does run the marathon, even more kudos to you.
Have I given up, surprisingly not, but suffice to say that you’re all safe for a good while yet if we’re being chased by a hungry bear!
… I hurt. Lots.