I dragged myself to the appointed meeting place yesterday morning, only to find that the crusty running club had loped off without me. I didn't wait around or bother feeling affronted (I was warned to be punctual) - I hopped back in the car and drove home. Before you could say 'sweatband' I had changed into some shorts and headed out for my own run, 15 km of pure torture in the burning sun. After a hearty brunch cooked by my husband, I was still wondering why I do this long-distance running lark. The only bit I enjoy is looking at my sports watch afterwards and seeing how many calories I've burned. And then I go and shovel them all back in again.
All in all, it's been a very accident-prone weekend. I have sustained several minor injuries. Not wishing to bore you with the details, let me share the best example: narrowly avoiding impaling myself on a bamboo cane in the greenhouse. I leaned down to my tomato plant to pull out a few weeds, forgetting in my haste to pluck the offenders that plant was only staying up with help of sharp stick. Now have nice bruise on sternum - never had one of those before. I mean the bruise. I am going to have to be careful from now on. I have always been clumsy, but seem to be reaching new heights recently.
As we are taught to deal with other afflictions, I shall take things a day at a time. Tomorrow, I will move slowly and deliberately. I will make no sudden movements. My body language will be modelled on a giraffe surveying the savannah. Apart from the bit where they stretch their neck out for the highest-growing leaves.
No comments:
Post a Comment