It was really hard getting out of bed this morning. Don’t know if it was the comfortable bed, the dark morning, or the steak and wine I had last night. Yep, steak and wine on a weeknight! Bernard unexpectedly prepared a lovely dinner, accompanied by a glass of really nice, velvety smooth, red wine. However, don’t be fooled by this apparent romantic gesture (as I was) - just as I raised the glass to my lips and about to compliment Bernard on my perfect steak, Jack shouted ‘Dad, the game is starting!’ and he was up and gone like a flash. He did leave the bottle behind though...
Similarly, Bernard’s excited announcement this morning at breakfast that my next installment (fix) of Downtown Abbey has been shipped and will be here in time for the weekend (yay!!) just about distracted me from the boys’ conversation about tonight’s football game. Can you spot the pattern?? But its poor Ava I feel sorry for - at least I get wine and John Bates as consolation prizes...
In the end though, I did get up and ran* on the treadmill. (I use the term ‘running’ extremely loosely here, call it poetic licence). My training is progressing nicely - which means extremely slow / haven’t given up yet. Registration starts today for the Flora Women’s Mini Marathon (10k) - my two friends have agreed to do it again, and this will be our fourth year. I can enter as a Fast Jogger but hope to complete it in under an hour (easy to set such high goals so early on - there’s a 103 days to go and we all know that won’t pass asquickasablinkofaneye) which means I would be considered a ‘Runner’ next year!! (imagine - a Runner!!)
At the moment, I’m enjoying the treadmill - I don’t have to worry about the weather, it’s easy to follow the training programme, and nobody can see me (can you guess which is my main reason for running inside?!) But I’ve noticed it’s getting much brighter in the mornings and I have to admit I’m dying to get outdoors. Maybe I’ll just make a sign - I AM OKAY. AMBULANCE NOT NEEDED - and wear it when running in public? Of course, that’s assuming people see my tomato red face, heavy breathing, and sweat soaked shirt and think “omg, she’s having a heart attack” instead of “omg - that is sooo funny. That fat girl* is trying to run!!” ...
Again, I evoked my poetic licence here and referred to myself as a ‘girl’. Fat, I’ll admit to... Old, I’ll also admit to (albeit begrudgingly as there’s not much I can do in relation to the stupid ageing process).. But ‘fat’ and ‘old’ in the same sentence - c’mon! As Jack would say, that’s harsh...
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