What is with this January weather, it is just not conducive to outdoor activities. This morning I was attempting to gather sufficient enthusiasm to walk to work. I was tucked under the duvet admiring the muddy prints that Hugo was leaving across the beige bedroom carpet and pondering how to get from bed to work without drowning. Motivation escaped me and even the cat’s howls for food were not sufficient to rouse me from my daydreams.
According to yesterdays paper, most of the UK workforce choose today, the first Monday in January, to start looking for a new job. I had to make it in if I was to join the rush and log onto the NHS Jobs portal.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I wasted 10 mins turning the house upside down trying to find my harsh weather gear but thats been missing since last years London 2 Brighton attempt and it continued to evade me. So what with the cat and the hidden overtrousers, I was now late for a job I didn’t want to go to and still had no protection from the horizontal rain.
I could only see two choices ahead of me
- Throw a sickie
- Try a run commute
Obviously as a committed, if de-motivated, management accountant, I chose the latter option. Donned my finest mountain marathon gear, shoved work wear into a plastic bag, and opened the door to the worst gale since yesterday.
And off I pootled, jogging past the miserable folk huddled together hoping for a number 109 to pass with enough room for at least 1 extra passenger. I rather enjoyed myself actually, its always more fun to bound through ankle deep puddles and embrace the mini, lorry-induced, tidal waves that swamp you in road slurry. Its a badge of honour to arrive at your destination dripping and muddy, looking as though you’ve just won a championship cross country race.
Of course if you’ve planned your running commute properly you have a complete change of clobber so you can look like a professional. I am of course a seasoned, if rusty, running commuter so I had remembered everything bar spare socks. I had also forgotten that shirts need to be chosen wisely, starched cotton shirts do not take well to being bounced around in a rucksack, squished up against your lunch box. It came out looking like a grandads hankie and has tarnished my professional image a little.
Still, I am jolly content. Janathon has been done and dusted by 10am and with any luck my running gear will have drip dried in time for the homeward journey.