I’m going to be a granny in around two weeks. TWO WEEKS! That’s fourteen days till I start feeling old, wearing floral hats and shaving. (HAH – ‘start’ shaving. Denial is a wonderful thing when you let it happen…)
Happy as I am, I’m not sure I have the right hair colour to be anyone’s gran. I remember both of my grans and they were definitely grey by the time they got me. And I’m nothing like them! My Scots gran was knocking in fence posts with a sledgehammer at the age of eighty (I can’t open ketchup bottles without breaking a sweat) and my English gran used to talk to herself. Did she? I don’t remember that? Yes, she did.
So, all of sudden – not influenced at ALL by the mountain of January diet and exercising TV adverts that are being crammed in my face faster than all those mince pies last month – I have this urge to get strong and healthy. Hell, I might even RUN down the lane to the pub. Except I realised a long time ago that my body is not built for running. Don’t believe me?
I once attempted a jog round the block. I had on a brand new pair of trainers and a set of in-ear headphones blasting out the suitably upbeat dance tune, ‘Encore Une Fois!’ Oh, and some clothes, of course. You can’t be too careful.
Almost immediately I felt that first spurt of acceleration, (thanks for pushing me out the door, Mr Hill) the left earplug bounced straight out. Have you TRIED running with earplugs in? Have you tried getting to the end of the road listening to several choruses of Encore Une Arghhhh? (Encore Une Fois – incidentally – means ‘once again’. As in, once again you’ve jogged your left earplug out.)
So, this has led me to the conclusion that I have the world’s smallest eardrums. There’s at least a gap. I mean, I do have problems going under water with them open. Oh, and I hear stuff too. Yep, definitely a gap. But they’re small. Too small for running.
There were also other things that bounced out every few paces. I’m not going to say what they were, but it isn’t in the least bit about being too small for running. And what is it with that jogging bottoms roll-down-to-reveal-belly thing?
Just me then?
In short, all that running did was undress me and make me self-eject European dance music! No, I’m definitely not built for running.
But I know someone who is.
*Insert cleverly disguised link to friends London Marathon blog page here. It’ll be seamless! They won’t notice*
*don’t forget to delete these notes to self*