I tried to write this blog last night on my phone but it appears my dexterity in such matters leaves something to be desired as not once but three times I typed and lost. So let a brief summary suffice now.
I was deeply unenthused about running. I didn't even have the energy and "enthusiasm" to hate the idea. I just didn't really want to go. It was getting dark, it was cold (as I knew since I had been in the garden) and it was getting icy.
But I changed, put on for the first time my jacket as well as a zippy top and set off along the canal.
And I have to say my prejudices were confounded.
It was gorgeous with the sun setting over the canal, a narrowboat, a couple of swans and the ever-changing light. I thought I would do the one mile minimum and maximum, but actually managed 1.6 miles too. And it didn't feel too bad - obviously by a mile it was all heavy breathing and no more looking at the water, but overall it wasn't a vile experience. And so I learnt - again - my lesson, that how you feel before and in the "get out of the house" period is nothing on how you feel when you get out there.
Onwards and upwards* I suppose.
(*) or preferably not upwards really
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