I have a confession to make – particularly to those of you reading who know me personally. This is not something that it’s easy to admit. I’m afraid my friends might not understand how I could change like this. They might desert me, but I have to face up to what I have done, right or wrong.
I’ve taken up regular exercise.
There. I’ve said it.
Running. I’ve taken up running. Just a few times a week, for a few minutes. A quick run around the block. Well, okay, not an actual quick run as such. More of a slow dawdling jog.
After seeing others trying running recently, I decided I’d try it out. Normally I have an aversion to any form of physical exercise, but I discovered that running isn’t too bad. It’s enough to get the heart started in the morning, to build up the muscles a bit, and to get my t-shirt covered in sweat, all before the morning shower.
And to my surprise, I have actually felt motivated to get up and out of the house at some ungodly hour of the morning to go running. It’s a bit like when I started working fulltime – I never really believed that something that sounds so miserable before you do it could actually be quite… is fun the word? Maybe not. Perhaps satisfying is a better word.
So serious am I that on Saturday morning we zipped down to a local shoe store and bought some proper runners. Although alarmingly expensive, they should do a better job of keeping my feet intact than the crappy old runners I’ve been using. Though actually, given how much cash you hand over for them, they should just about do the running for you.
