Sometimes I wonder at why I say some of the things I do....you know the kind of things, the ideas that sound good at the time they are uttered with enthusiasm but that you just
know you will regret almost as soon as you hear the words leaving your mouth!
Over the last few months, as a result of my lack of gainful employment, I have turned slowly into something of a mouse potato, my general level of fitness and strength have diminished accordingly and I spend my nights frustrated, bored and sleepless because I'm never properly tired.
Don't misunderstand me, as a child and teenager I was a competitive gymnast and I was always extremely fit but once all that stopped, the umpteen years in a gym was enough for me to consider that exercise wasn't something I was about to do for fun any longer! Subsequently I mostly did physical jobs which maintained my strength (hey, how many 7.5 stone women do you know who can lift 40kg routinely all day long in the course of their work?) and I considered that was enough to prevent me turning into a sloth.....not for me the weekly work outs and all that Lycra malarkey!
But then came the mouse potato era of late and I stupidly mentioned to himself that perhaps I should 'do something' to keep myself a little fitter, the only other thing I had excelled at in my formative years was distance running and in one of those 'I'm feeling unusually positive' moments I very stupidly mentioned that perhaps I could start jogging. Mistake!
A while later mention was made of why I wasn't running yet? I needed a suitable excuse...and fast. One came in the form of a lack of running shoes and lack of money right now for spending on such luxuries. Money was put in my hand. Damnation! I duly attended the local shoe shops....nothing decent was to be found, least of all in a size 3. Phew! The whole shoe thing is a nightmare at the best of times with tiny feet and what's more, the whole running thing might have seemed like a good idea at the time but the status of mouse potato has it's attractions and the motivation to
actually do anything about it, had
long since disappeared.
I was safe, no shoes, no running!
Wrong. 
Two days later a courier knocked on the door with a parcel for me, inside of which was to be found a pristine pair of Nike running shoes...it seems himself had taken matters into his own hands having listened too long to my excuses and instead scoured the web for appropriate, decent quality, children's sized foot garb..... my by now increasingly vain efforts at avoidance were foiled yet again when they also fitted like a glove! Goddamn.
A final and desperate excuse for maintaining my mouse potato lifestyle also failed me dismally. The argument I presented, that my lovely new shoes were far too nice and white and cute to get muddy and yukky and nasty, was scorned and derided and met with mirth!
Any day now it would seem I am off pounding the pavements and river banks!
Please let it rain......
what? you can run in rain??
