I don’t like Mondays

The looming prospect of Juneathon has got me thinking about consistency and how the heck I’m going to run every day. I’ve not been in a good routine for ages and as regular readers will be aware, it doesn’t take a great deal to distract my attention. Ooooh look, a pigeon…..

Where was I? The genius that is Running Matters wrote far more eloquently than I can on the matter, and I’ve been having a think about when I run and when I don’t.  Embracing the geeky joy of  Garmin stats, I’ve been looking at my calendar and have found that I don’t like Mondays. In the last few months I have run twice on a Monday, and one of those was a bank holiday so it doesn’t count as a real Monday. Why don’t I run on a Monday? Because in the morning getting up is hard enough and after work is Tesco night (I lead a very exciting life). Tuesdays are an entirely different kettle of fish. I love running on Tuesdays, morning, evening, whenever; if I don’t go out any other day, I’ll go out on a Tuesday.  Luckily, Juneathon starts on a Tuesday.

Fingers crossed, Juneathon will help kickstart getting into a routine (albeit a terrifying one) because it should weaken my pathetic excuse of not having time to fit in a run and might help overcome my dislike of Mondays.

That just means that I need to deflect the distractions and, in theory, I’m on to a winner.  Unfortunately, I’m also let down by organisational skills. For instance,  I’ve found that, at any one time, I can only find two-thirds of my running kit. You’ll be relieved to know that this doesn’t mean that I’m out scaring the horses in my socks and sports bra, just that I can only ever seem to locate two sets of my three decent(ish) running clobber and spend a lot of time running around trying the find something to wear. I have no idea where the third set hides, but it will not outsmart me in June. No sir. Similarly, my Garmin and mp3 player will remain charged and ready to go, rather than hiding their bits in my knitting box.

This is the plan. If nothing else, I’m paving a road to hell with all these good intentions.

NB. Good intentions are not a recognised solution to mending pot holes, although they are economic. (See that?  That’s satire that is.)

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