I picked up a pair of hiking sticks yesterday. I had got it into my head that Nordic running – i.e. running with Nordic Walking poles, would be just the ticket for my decrepit knee.
They might have helped the knee but they weren’t great for marital harmony. Lynn point blank refused to go out for a run with me if I persisted with the idea.
I have a stubborn streak.
I did try using them out of the public eye but the treadmill was just a little too narrow and I would either jam the sticks in the stationary part of the contraption or hold them so close to my body that I’d wrap them round my ankles at 8km/hr. Either way was fairly unpleasant and I had to venture outside with them.
I did look a bit of a state.
It’s normally a quiet route but of course, today, every man, his dog and his entire extended family decided to go for a stroll by the river.
I was struggling a bit.
I started at a fair old pace and knocked a minute of my usual kilometre time but my lungs couldn’t keep up with the bounding and the sticks kept slipping on the concrete paths and skittered in all directions. I’d lollop up to the first group, puffing and clattering my tinny poles and then couldn’t muster the energy to make it past the next clan of walkers.
It turned into one of those dastardly run walk things but in the end we were pleased with the time and we’ve added another 3.5km to the Janathon tally.