Running and I are not comfortable bedfellows. This I learnt last night as I actually went out for a run, sorry who am I kidding, jog around my neighbourhood of my own accord and without PG running behind me with a cattle prod or in front of me with a big slice of cake dangled like the stereotypical carrot in front of a donkey. Part of me thinks that it’s a great challenge to conquer my dislike of putting one foot in front of the other as it’s great for toning the lower body and will give me an awesome sense of accomplishment however part of me (a larger part?) thinks I should just pack it in and not subject myself three times a week to something I really really hate. PG is a bit of a nutter about it all and seems to think I am some sort of machine in the making who will be able to join him on his mega runs. It would be quite nice to have a running partner however I am too slow and too lumbering for him to accompany me and he is too fast and whizzy for me to stand a chance of keeping up with him. Maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle, like say the pub?
Speaking of the pub, we went for a team lunch today to our local as after a few months of having a substitute team member we’re switching back to normal so had to have an unofficial baton handing over ceremony. I had a moment of revelation about sharing a picnic bench with two colleagues though as a) the wood didn’t bow and break as I lowered my arse onto it and b) my bum fit neatly on the seat between my colleagues! Huzzah! I did the thing of sitting sideways to begin with as I was convinced that my bum was still to chunky to fit but my colleague pointed out there was still plenty of room so I got brave and parked my arse properly. I can add that to my list of ‘things I can do now’…..