After my limited attempts at running last week - I only managed to get out once, was determined that this week I'd be back on track with three runs. Having run (fuelled by cake, scones, pastry and Prosecco on Monday I knew that I had to run again today and Friday (as I have yet another busy weekend ahead).
I awoke around 6am still feeling tired, and decided that perhaps another 10 minutes in bed would have me feeling a bit more spritely.
However I must have fallen back to sleep, as the next time I looked at the clock it was half past 7. So I told myself to shake a leg and get on with it. No time for faffing, or so I thought. I would just get dressed and out the door. I’d got yet another new playlist to try out, so I was keen, and my Mojo waited patiently on the doormat while I got myself ready.
One cup of tea downed, it didn’t take me long to slather the feet in Vaseline (just in case it turned into a long run) and get myself clothed. It might have been better had I taken a minute to look out the window…
There I was finishing off my warm up stretches in a thin vest, leggings and my running shoes, feeling toasty. Then it was on with the running belt and I was raring to go.
I took one step out the door, turned around and to come right back inside. It was frrrreeeezing. What was I thinking?
What I was thinking was, “Where the bl**dy hell have I put my door key?” SO not only was I freezing, I was also locked out of my house. I’d even locked my Mojo inside, so what chance would I have of completing my run. After what seemed like forever, but was in fact a few seconds of cursing my next door neighbour arrived back from dropping his son at school. Fortunately my cursing had been quiet as he is a vicar, and I didn’t want to cause offence. He asked if I was OK. How could he ask such a stupid question? Did I look OK? With a red nose, goosebumps, body almost going into convulsions due to the extent of my shivering did he seriously need to ask.
Without me having to say much more he disappeared (which was a good thing, as I was on the verge of developing Tourette’s ) but returned post haste brandishing a key. My spare key. I could have kissed him – but a) I could hardly move with the cold and b) I didn’t want to get the neighbours talking. He unlocked my door then wisely retreated before I could change my mind on the kissing thing.
I was back inside in no time and caught sight of myself in the mirror. No wonder Fr Mike had backed off so quickly. My chest was showing tell tale signs of the cold, but having had a mastectomy, I had only one “organ stop” protruding from my vest. How embarrassing… 😳 (I’m not sure when I’ll ever get used to having such an uneven rack.) Anyway, shrugging, I put on my plastic overshoes to save me removing my trainers, and did a sprint upstairs to fetch a jacket. I then had a fumble around in the shoe cupboard to get my headband for my ears, running gloves, reacquainted myself with my Mojo and opened the door to leave.
Yes, I could have just gone ahead and shut the door, but in the nick of time remembered I needed my key… phew.
At last I was on my way, striding along with Fun Boy Three serenading me with Our Lips Are Sealed, as if to remind me of my avoidance of swearing at the vicar (or having the neighbours see us in an embrace). It was a circular route that I hadn’t done in a while, with the option to extend it if all was going well. My Mojo decided that I could go further, especially with some choice tracks such as The B52’s (Rock Lobster and Love Shack) to keep me going. 🏃🏽♀️
I didn’t manage any speedy kilometres – my last run must have been a fluke - but my planned 5km turned into a 10.5 km in 1hour and 1.37 minutes, so I was pleased with that. ☺
Back after a two week break
Week 5 Run 2 - Fail and trail rage
Wk8 R2. Done
Boosting my mojo
