So I'm dragging my lard arse off the sofa again and running. Well mildly jogging, or walking very fast. Whatever. I am actually getting out there again. Why? Because spring has sprung and before you know it - it will be time to bare your legs and peel off the cosy layers that have hidden insulated your body all winter. I have a whole bunch of clothes that looked waaaay better before I sat on my arse in a job for almost 2 years... I've no excuses: I've got that arm strap thing that you shove your i pod into, a little running programme that will take me from the being a potato shape to a supermodel or from the couch to the towpath at least. I've got running shoes. It aint cold any more. I have the time... Therefore, IT IS TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC.
It makes me feel better. Having done it once - today, whoop! - I am feeling better. I don't know why I get myself all excited when I re-discover for like the millionth time, that exercise actually makes me feel great. The more I sweat, the better I feel. Fact. I know the pain threshold is coming and I know that no matter how long you run for, the first fifteen minutes are never fun until you kind of get in your groove and then it is almost relaxing... I swear to god this is true - and I am someone who used to have an asthma attack and keel over if I ran the length of myself. Natural born runner I am not. But I want to get back to the place where I could run 10K and actually enjoy it. Where my lungs feel all open and the blood rushes around and I verge on feeling high. I want to feel fitter. I've no money to joint the gym or I'd be back with my lovely trainer making me lift all kinds of things and balance on those weird balls to do squats and all the things that make your thighs ache.
So tomorrow I'll be back out there,** dodging the geese by the canal, inhaling house boats' woody smoke fumes and humming along to OPP/Lady Gaga/something with a massive beat that makes me move. No matter what, my trainers are on, my hair is scraped back, my asthma inhaler is shoved into my bra. Off I'll set listening to that nice calm lady on the app telling me I am half way through my run... only 10 seconds more.... I can't wait. Honestly, I can't.
(**Unless it rains, in which case I'll make tea and eat some cake).
It makes me feel better. Having done it once - today, whoop! - I am feeling better. I don't know why I get myself all excited when I re-discover for like the millionth time, that exercise actually makes me feel great. The more I sweat, the better I feel. Fact. I know the pain threshold is coming and I know that no matter how long you run for, the first fifteen minutes are never fun until you kind of get in your groove and then it is almost relaxing... I swear to god this is true - and I am someone who used to have an asthma attack and keel over if I ran the length of myself. Natural born runner I am not. But I want to get back to the place where I could run 10K and actually enjoy it. Where my lungs feel all open and the blood rushes around and I verge on feeling high. I want to feel fitter. I've no money to joint the gym or I'd be back with my lovely trainer making me lift all kinds of things and balance on those weird balls to do squats and all the things that make your thighs ache.
So tomorrow I'll be back out there,** dodging the geese by the canal, inhaling house boats' woody smoke fumes and humming along to OPP/Lady Gaga/something with a massive beat that makes me move. No matter what, my trainers are on, my hair is scraped back, my asthma inhaler is shoved into my bra. Off I'll set listening to that nice calm lady on the app telling me I am half way through my run... only 10 seconds more.... I can't wait. Honestly, I can't.
(**Unless it rains, in which case I'll make tea and eat some cake).
No comments:
Post a Comment