Tuesday

Considering my previous sporting non-achivements, running is such a strange thing for me to do. I was lousy at sports as a child; my weak left eye meant that catching or batting or throwing was a bit tricky, and my excess weight meant that even if I had caught, hit, or thrown the ball, I was generally too out of puff to do much else. I did practise Judo for a while, and I seem to remember I quite enjoyed that, until true teenage moodiness kicked in, and I gave it up in order to stay in bed.

But there again, maybe running is the ideal 'fitness activity' for me. It's a very individual sport; even though I run with the other half, in the end it feels like its just me against myself. On a good run, on a good day, I feel like I could run forever (or at least until my shoes gave out) - just set off and never stop. Perhaps this is something common to everyone who runs and has seen 'Forrest Gump' too many times, what do I know?

I didn't run forever last night; it was instead my 'usual' 6.6 mile run. I meant to run it anti-clockwise last night, thereby saving the evil hill until last, but I forgot and by the time I remembered I didn't feel like turning round. It seems a lot longer that way. We belted round the first third, slowed down a little for the middle third and then upped the pace for the end, so much so that I think we scared a few pedestrians, who for once actually moved out of the way - although when I think about what we probably looked like, I'm not surprised.

It took us 48 minutes, which is a 7.53 per mile pace. We've run quicker (7.16 per mile), but I'm pleased anyway.

In other news: my socks turned up. They're perfect. Thank you Kate!