Running

After dropping Charlie off at nursery I embarked on my (now fairly regular) run.

Before I had Charlie I used to do 6 miles without blinking (not literally) and now 2 miles is a bloody effort. I spend a long time trying to convince myself not to go due to various (often imaginary) reasons - adverse weather conditions, a cold etc. before finally realising that not going will trigger 'the guilt'. 

I always hope that if I am unfortunate enough to see anyone it is at the beginning, when I am looking sprightly (however my friend did offer me water as I ran past her the other day until I explained I had been running for about 2 minutes and wasn’t particularly dehydrated) and moving relatively quickly as opposed to the end when I resemble a demented slug.

Today’s run was particularly stressful due to my running tights. They decided to continually disappear up my arse as I ran. They are not the most flattering when in the correct position (that is my assumption anyway) and significantly less so when doing this. I became totally preoccupied with checking for passing motorists so I could liberate them as privately as one can on a fairly busy road. I was also slightly concerned that they were not doing this 2 days ago. My bottom has clearly grown since Monday.

This however is not as embarrassing as when I decided to do laps a few weeks ago. At the start I encountered 3 teenage boys doing some work on a Nova (looking at it) – I felt slightly self conscious and ran past quite fast; staring ahead, I noticed a smirk the second time as I was slightly slower and the third time could not fail to miss that they were pissing themselves when I staggered past, heaving occasionally. I was too ashamed (and equally unable) to attempt a fourth time.