Sunday Morning River Run

I love that feeling when you open your eyes and think “Urgh, Monday!” Then, slowly it dawns on your sleepy brain that it is in fact, SUNDAY! And what’s more, when this happened to me this morning, it was a sunny, Sunday morning…the best kind.

Closing my eyes against the bright sunshine streaming through the skylight in my room, I smiled to myself sleepily: it was early, I had the whole day ahead of me to be lazy and wallowy – as I stretched in my warm bed, I could almost hear dear old Lionel singing just for me “Easyyyyy…easy like Sunday morningggggg…” and then…

Aaargh! My eyes sprung open as I remembered what I’d told Stressed Husband  as he raised his eyebrows at me while I wolfed down my second bowl of Vienneta ice-cream that evening “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter ‘cos I’m going for a run tomorrow morning…starting my Spring diet and fitness plan.” I know he was just about to choke his laughter and say “What? Again?!”  But he saw the look in my eye and the ice-cream perched on my spoon like a missile about to be fired – and he thought better of it. I couldn’t exactly go back on the run now, could I? I couldn’t bear his smug face looking knowingly at me over the Sunday papers…So, out of bed I flopped and upended my undies drawer to retrieve my old, grey sportsbra – not so much perky Sweaty Betty than saggy old Sweaty Bag Lady without a packet of Vanish to  brighten up her whites.

Ipod in place (I must remember to put on one of those electro funk play lists especially for exercising, because Barbara Streisand and Michael Buble, may be lovely, but they make me want to sing and I keep getting funny looks from passers by. Well, I can’t hear myself can I? Got my earphone in.) I set off and here’s who I saw on the my Sunday morning river run…

Whizzy Whitehaired Man – He is super speedy and can’t be a day under 75. His lithe old bones and  shock of white hair zoomed pass me and it wasn’t just me that looked on him in wonder, everyone smiled as he raced by, all hoping that we’d be as fit as his age. Bouyed up by his speediness, I picked up my pace as his white head faded into the distance, and I spied…

Swishy Ponytail Vixen – Now, she is what I aspire to be (but I haven’t got a time machine to make me 20 years younger) but  youth aside, her blonde (always blonde) ponytail, high on her head swishes and glints in the sunlight like a shampoo advert and she looks amazing in her skin tight lycra leggings and bright, cropped running top. Her high tech running shoes cost a fortune and her boobs probably did too. Perlease! Her butt is peachy perfect, so don’t tell me her pneumatic breasts are natural?! Thinking that her pinky and perkies have been bought and that her real ones dangled to her knees is the only thing that stops me from crying at her Barbie perfectness as she slinks past me…swish, swish, swish…Despondent, I almost give up until I spy…

Love’s Young Dream – Aaawwww – they run in sync, sharing their water bottle and smiling at each other as they jog so close they could be Siamese twins. They don’t seem to get out of breath and the way he touched her bum as he guided her tenderly past a mound of dog poo, I understood why. They are fit as fuck because that is all they do! They are in the first throes of love and the lust that comes with it is all the keep fit they really need. *Sigh* Unexpectedly, my eyes begin to tear at the memory of Stressed Husband and me at that stage of our relationship. So, pulling down my sunglasses from on top of my head to shade me from the glow of Love’s Young Dream and to hide my tears, I stumble upon…

New Dad – Bless him! Newborn in a sling at his chest, mini batman (about 5) scooting off in front of him and little pink princess (2ish) having a tantrum, refusing to get back into her buggy while dad tries to get a jog on to keep up with his little batman and stop him from bumping into ramblers and puppies. I smile kindly at him as I near and imagine he’s giving his tired, worn out wife a much needed lie in by taking the kids out for a couple of hours. I hope she’s making the most of it – those kids are a real handful – I remember it well. And I make a mental note to pop a packet of chocolate buttons in my pocket next time out jogging because New Dad is having no luck tempting his little pink princess into the buggy with a packet of raisins. I smile to myself remembering my own children’s tantrums (I can smile now they’ve passed) and on I go….

I’m starting to feel like stopping. The sun is lovely, but I’m hot and forgot to bring my bottle of water and I can feel a stitch coming on. Michael Buble is telling me that He’s Feeling Good because it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life…but I feel like quitting, until I spy…

My Diet Starts Monday Mums – A group of three women who are just like me! A little bit weighty, not too bad though for over 40, red-faced, puffing with effort and wearing an ensemble of M&S joggers and comfy big t-shirts. As we pass, we smile at each other in a friendly, knowing way…and I  imagine they are thinking along the same lines as me: “Just get this bloody jog over with and I can get home for a nice chocolate croissant and then a big roast with a few glasses of wine for lunch.”


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