Sounds a bit melodramatic I know, but I've been in such a bad place recently. Overeating, too much wine, too little exercise and so on. I've put on weight and I feel weak and, frankly, old.
So this morning I was working out if I should go for my traditional walk, or walk into work later, when my sensible brain kicked and made me go for a run, no excuses.
And so out I popped and ran.
There was a time just over 1/2 way through, after all the hills had been conquered (they're very gentle hills but feel like mountains, what with the extra weight I'm carrying and the lack of puff) when I needed to walk. My lungs were straining, even if my legs felt OK. But I told myself it was punishment, that it wouldn't last forever, that I'd feel so very good for having run all the want. And I was right. It was awful.
4.42km
6m 48 per km
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