It might be the halfway mark, it might be my inherent laziness, but I really couldn’t be bothered today. Still snuffly, so I didn’t fancy an early one this morning. When I got in from work, household logistics meant that I didn’t have time to go out before tea and then had to go plant watering at my mum’s. I stalled for as long as I could, but eventually (and grudgingly) gave in to the power of Juneathon at about 8ish.
I was certain that it was going to be a rubbish one – I’ve never run that late, I was a bit low any way and at mum’s I got distracted by the scary sight of my bum. I’ve been convincing myself that my wobbly bits have been a bit perkier and curvier since Juneathon (they’re certainly not lighter), but the reflected evidence in the car window proved otherwise. It was the lethal combination of my tight running tights (bought online, they were a bargain but don’t have much give in them. In fact I can’t wear them for morning runs because I don’t have the energy to put them on and go for a run. It takes a tub of marge and a warm spoon to get them off again) and optimistically sized pants. Less a visible panty line, more of a visible panty gorge. I suspect you can see it from space.
The point I’m trying to make is that I wasn’t in the most positive frame of mind about myself or the prospect of running.
Ha. What do I know? I ended up doing just over 4.5 miles and really enjoying myself, partly due to the accompanying late 80’s soft rock soundtrack to The Lost Boys. There was air drumming at around the 1.5 mile mark.
Only hiccups were that as I was wheezing down one hill, an older gentleman was striding effortlessly up the other side wearing tracksuit bottoms and what appeared to be a v-necked pullover. I was slightly shamed. That and the very big hill near the end. To distract myself to start with, I used the unorthodox technique of thinking that I had inhaled a fly up my right nostril, ended with the distraction of the hacking sound of my lungs and in the middle used what JogBlog said that RunningAmok said Fit Artist said Runner’s World said (phew) about looking at the floor. I think it worked.