I want enough time to creosote a shed on a pen. That all. No trips to the local Mecca of shopping the Trafford Centre, no spray tans, no plasticky spade shaped fingernails, just a break in the weather and two out of three children cooperating so I can spend an hour or two doing something I'd like to. I'd also like the opportunity to wear my brand new trainers that were specially fitted for my stride and which have been waiting six months for me to test drive them. A combination of the weather, hills and sick children have prevented my progression as a runner. These things, my "interests", are a tenuous part of my life. I have the interest but not the opportunity. Taking up running at my age needs to be a measured approach from both mine and the public's view. It must be a scary encounter having a three stone overweight very short pensioner lumbering towards you, blue in the face, tongue rolling out and eyes protruding. I wouldn't like to experience it so I'm mindful of others. Meanwhile my trainers linger like pork sausages at a bar mitzvah (and probably smell like them too!)
Posted via Blogaway
No comments:
Post a Comment