I got accused of mis-selling myself this morning. It seems that I have a record of portraying myself as an active sort who is known to occasionally entertain with stories of puddle running, cold water immersion and wholesale slug annihilation, but who now seems to have turned into a bit of a lazy good for nothing. Albeit a grinning, happy, good for nothing.
Despite managing to accidentally close off my last post to feedback, the most tenacious of my readers still managed to get through and post astute comments, some of which could be paraphrased as: “stop enjoying yourself and get running again!” So with a definite theme emerging from the outside world it seemed like the time had come to re-acquaint myself with myself, and that means running, gardening and blogging.
The non-runner valiantly offered (actually under duress so it may not count as valiant) to become a cyclist for the afternoon and drag me around the river for 4.5 miles until we arrived at the allotment – in time for garlic planting. It must have been exactly 3 weeks since my last run and that was only a titchy one so I was desperately in need of dragging.
Running is so tough, I can’t imagine why anyone would do it really.