So, back in furlough and still running. The most shocking thing? I quite like it now. I’m still in secondhand gear. Most of it fits – someone, just not me. Everything from the waist down is too long. (Alright, that’s quite enough of that!) I thought I should buy some running tights as winter approaches. It is not a good look. They are skin tight over my gargantuan calves, I can barely pull them up over my thighs and I cannot run in them unless I pull the waistband up to my chest. I keep tripping over the gusset. I tried it. I most certainly cannot leave the house like it. So, I continue to run in the gear that I have worn since I started the whole malarkey and, since most of it is black, I am grateful that I am currently able to go out in daylight hours. (The silver lining I have been searching for.) Especially since the village streets have returned to a Dodge City-like serenity. Nobody is venturing out. I cannot help but think that this is because they see me coming. All over the village dogs are crossing their legs, knowing that they will not be taken out until after I have lumbered past. Cleaning up dog piss from the shagpile is preferable to bumping into me for most dog owners.
Yet, despite my tendency to look like Harold Steptoe, I am actually running further than I used to, faster than I used to and generally feeling far less like I wish death would take me in the process. I have developed the ability to let my mind wander – to stray a little from the concerns of preservation of life – and all that I really wanted to say today is that over the next four barren weeks, I will continue to run and, should any cogent thoughts enter my head, I’ll let you know. Mind you, I’ll probably let you in on any other old tripe that washes up as well.
These extra blogs will, of course, only happen to the 2nd December. Don’t you just love a Lockdown?
Today’s favourite running track: Badge – Cream