For the last few weeks Friday has been crisis day at work – today it started at half 11 (no one could find me before then) and eventually abated at half 3 when I had my dinner. The difficulty with being hit by crisis after crisis is that the old fight or flight response kicks in. Apparently, legging it (flight) will lead to disciplinary action, so even if something turns out not to be a crisis, you end up all hyped up to deal with it (fight).
The fleeing had to wait until home time when Ginge and I went out for a route that’s about 4.5 miles. I unloaded about work for about two miles and we settled into a comfortable, steady pace. The route that we took is one that I’ve only run in summer and I didn’t realise that a few sections were unlit and as the wearer of the hi-vis, I was sent ahead like a canary down a mine. We reached 4.5 miles just before home and decided to round up to 5 miles, at the turn around point for 5 miles we decided to round up to 6 miles and 6 miles we did. Both of us very pleased, but also reflective that this is what our Friday nights have become.
Someone’s probably already tweeted about this article in today’s Guardian, but I really enjoyed it and could identify with both the article and a lot of the comments in response. It asks why exercise is only sold to women as a way to lose weight and look good (clearly the gym companies haven’t seen me trying to deal with snot and sweat as I hurl myself around the village) rather than any of the other million reasons we all pull on our trainers and get out there. I’d say that there’s as many reasons for running as there are runners – today I needed to relax, have some good company, clear my head and not fail Janathon on day 28.
|Ferrero rochers burned|