“Just one more,” is my mantra
As I near my breaking point
Just one more and I can rest
And ease my creaking joints
Breathless, broken, sweating
An hour of constant pain
At the end of which I wonder
What exactly do I gain?
The answer comes soon after
I pick myself up off the floor
And crack open the biscuit tin
When it’s never ‘just one more’…
Part 2 of my confessional about how I’ve become a less interesting person over the years and it is time to focus on a perennial lie on my CV – the claim that I enjoy long distance running. To reflect that fact, this is a longer-than-usual post. A marathon of a post if you will. Don’t say you weren’t warned…
I’ve never enjoyed long distance running. I can’t think of anything I’d rather avoid than running of any description to be honest.
I’m not built for it for one thing. Until settling in the town of Reading in 2013, I led something of a nomadic existence. I’ve lived in a few places in the UK and I even lived for a few years in Paris (more of which later). The one thing that moving around means is changing GPs. And every time you change GP you have to go and have a medical. Consequently, no-one is more aware than me that I am, according to my BMI score, obese.
It’s a horrible word, obese. I often wonder if it’s specifically designed to make you feel bad about yourself. Cos if someone describes you as obese, then you’re going to want to do something about it aren’t you?
And I would, but I think it’s fair to say I’m also quite fit.
I’m no Olympian but I do exercise a reasonable amount. Continue reading Stuff I Used To Do But Don’t Do Anymore (Or How I’ve Become A Less Interesting Person Over Time): Part 2 – I Just Kept On Running (Or I Did For A While And Then Gave Up…)