Went to Decathlon and bought a cheap pair of running shoes €15, some hideous but comfortable tights and a sports bra (best money ever spent – women with boobs take note).
Thought about running.
Thought about running. Felt guilty about having spent money on running stuff.
Called friend, who out of sheer monumental boredom, agreed to join me on her bike. We walk/shuffle/cycle along the esplanade in Barceloneta. This is strangely exhilarating despite the fact that everyone overtakes us. We discuss my future overindulgence in the sport. Its agreed I should definitely stop before I get a runner’s body – no waist, no butt, no hips and hard sinewy legs. We end the run hanging upside down from the climbing frame on the beach. A fantastic start!
I find to my utter amazement, no sudden death or injury has occurred from last night’s run. I am a little sore from swinging about the frame though.
The first runner’s wall – my friend cancels. Another friend points out that it’s Friday night on Carnival weekend. I go anyway. She gets worried.
Sore. A friend calls me at 12pm to see if I’m coming out. I’m already in bed. She hangs up in disgust.
Sunday morning. I wake up and glance at the clock. Its 8 am. I think ‘if I get up right now I can go for a run before I start work’. Then I think ‘who am I!!!!?’
This is almost exactly what we looked like, but with sports bras :