I’m sure you remember a couple of posts back, I was commenting on the silliness of the people taking part in the London Marathon. And while I still uphold that view - 26 miles is just insanity! - somehow I have taken up running.
I thought that by suggesting a walk, it would be a nice casual stroll with Mr C. Um, no. Somewhere along the line, the devil stole him and replaced him with the personal trainer from hell. Okay, I exaggerate and maybe I do feel a bit better for having actually done some kind of exercise, and maybe I do want to perhaps go out and see if I can do some more another day… still, I’m not happy about it.
I don’t run. I told him that from the start. I don’t run. Definitely not running, it’s not in my genes. Um, same time tomorrow, then?