*stands in the kitchen in my running gear*
Christ, these shorts are tight. Feel like Daisy Duke. Need
to sort a playlist first. Rage Against the Machine? Too rocky.
Rocky?
Ah, the Rocky soundtrack. Never fails. I can feel the
calories burning off already.
*spends 20 minutes building a playlist*
Where are my running shoes? This house is a shithole, I’m
surprised we haven’t misplaced one of the kids yet. When did I last wear them?
Feel like I’ve not exercised since puberty.
As usual, they’re in the porch. And yes, they stink. No
surprise there. Smell like cheesy puffs. That porch is filled with spiders, I
bet they’ve all crawled into my shoes. Little bastards.
*puts shoes on in*
Bloody hell. I’m knackered. Arthritic hippos move with more
grace than me. Shall I not bother?
No, I’ve got to do this. I’m growing tits here. Best do some
stretches first. Although you’re not supposed to stretch cold muscles are you? But
I have just run down the stairs so I’m sure it’ll be fine.
*does some stretches*
Christ, this is hard work. My buttocks feel weird. Is that a
good thing? Probably not but can’t put this off any longer. The time is now.
I’ll just download that running app.
*downloads app, checks Twitter, goes on Facebook for ten mins*
Okay - headphones on. Music playing. Out into the night air
I go. Friggin hell it’s cold. Suddenly very aware of my nipples.
Let’s start off slowly, build to a mediocre pace before
finishing with a brisk walk.
*dramatically goes over on ankle*
FRIGGGGINNNNELLLL!
Christ that hurt. Bollocks. I’ve been out the house 10
seconds and I’m injured already. Surely this is fate telling me to go home.
I could just walk round the block actually. Perfect excuse
to go home, this.
But you’re outside now, let’s give it a go. Turn the music
up and get moving, come on.
*Eye of the Tiger plays loudly through headphones*
Wow. I feel fantastic. I’m gliding across the floor. I’m in
the zone, man. Maybe my fitness isn’t so bad after all. I have been running
around with the babies after all, and pushing that pram must count for
something.
I should do this every day. Imagine how good I’d feel then?
*dog runs across road and tries to attack me*
FOR FUCKS SAKE WHAT IS HAPPENNING?!
Just stand still.
They’ll go away. They can’t see you if you don’t move. Hang on, it’s a Poodle,
not a T-Rex. Maybe they’re chasing the smell from my running shoes. This has
been a terrible idea.
Don’t smile at me, control your fucking dog! Oh he’s ‘just
playing’ is he? Well that makes everything fine, doesn’t it? Next time I fancy
waltzing into the greengrocers and punching a few people in the neck I’ll
explain to the police that I’m ‘just playing’ shall I?
Dick.
Although that’s given me a fair old adrenalin rush that. They
should use dog attacks to scare long distance runners into world records.
Getting a decent pace here. Maybe I should join a running
club. Do this regularly. Competitively, even. I love it.
*hits the bottom of a slight incline*
OH. MY. GOD. I’M. DYING. Can you catch asthma?
I must have done two miles though.
*checks running app*
0.6 miles? Bloody hell. That can’t be right. Need to get
this phone looked at. Maybe I ran at 88 mph and went back in time?
Think I’ll just head back. There’s that dog again, better
cross the road.
At least I’ve done it now and let’s face it, it can’t get
any worse.
*car drives past through big muddy puddle and soaks me*
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