This is just going to come out as a stream of consciousness....
The backdrop is that the last time I did any real exercise was at school in Liverpool in the late 70s. The PE teacher was reputed to have been kicked out of the Gestapo for being too cruel: "If you can't touch your toes, lad, I'll cut your b***s off so you can't touch them either!" "Thank you, Mr ***'; you're ever so kind!"
Fast forward, away from Blondie, The Police, The Jam, big hair, shoulder pads etc through half a lifetime and, like a bad cut from "Back to the Future", I'm in Epping Forest with a jumble of emotions that I don't think I've experienced before.
I read a fair few of the older posts over the past few days so the Armchair General in me *knew* all about hurting calves, shin splints, pushing through the pain. I had that all covered. In theory.
In practice and In no particular order, these thoughts went through my head:
- "It's 6.00...... AM!!!. There's only one 6.00 in my house and this isn't it."
- "What is this ******* music they're playing."
- "If I use this route again on Tuesday, I'm going to have to get a disguise."
- "No way was that 90 seconds."
- "No way is this 60 seconds. I've paused it; I must have."
- "I've lived here for 20 years. There was definitely no hill here yesterday."
- "B**ger me, not only was it not there yesterday, but it looks like the Matterhorn."
- "If Laura were here right now, I might actually be capable of murder."
- "Don't stop! Imagine Alan Carr is chasing you with foam roller." (I took off like Billy Whizz at that point)
- "Holy moly, I think I just heard my grand dad asking me to step into the light."
There was an unexpected side effect which is probably best shared only with Mrs DiabolicalLiberty....
It wasn't pretty out there today but the feeling of elation at having done it made it worthwhile.