I meant to rest up today since I’ve been feeling sick and run down all week (and no, I’ve not been poking myself in the neck except to establish if that’s where it hurts… and if it still hurts…) but I walked home from work and the weather was so nice and I really, really wanted to go for a run.
I’ve got this image now that half the people reading this are nodding their heads cos they know what it feels like to really want to get out and run, and the other half are shaking their heads and thinking I’m crazy.
Anyway I figured since I wanted to run, as opposed to feeling like I have to because it’s on some schedule or training plan, then I must be well enough to run.
I popped down to Princes Park and did intervals – 1 km very slow, 2 kms not so slow X 2. My goal time since my fitness is shot to shit was 14 mins per 2 kms. I ran the first km and thought I’d die. I really, really had to stop for a walk/drink break so figured I’d not make anywhere near my goal. Then realised the timer was still running so I should get running too. I hit the 2 km mark at 13:50! So a bit of a walk/jog break then another 2 kms. This time I did it in just under 11 mins. That’s damn good and is making me think that my whole “I’m getting slower and less fit” thing is all in my head and I should just ‘nad up and get into it.
On the way home, we (my sister went to the park for some outdoor lolling time) called in at the fave cafe. I’d said to the owner the other day that I needed to work to buy a bed and she told me she had one she’d give me. It was kinda awkward – I don’t really need a bed, mine is a bit worse for wear but definitely sleepable, I just have a specific bed I want. Then I remembered my sister didn’t have a bed at all, just a mattress and base on the floor. So we took the head and base home and went back today for the rest of it.
I think you need to get the full visual of this = busy cafe during dinner + Kathryn, red faced, sweaty and in tee-shirt and running skirt lugging bits of bed through the place. Oh yeah, I got all the weird looks.
Then it got funnier. We started putting the bed together. I held the side bits while my sister bolted them in. Without meaning to, everything that came out of her mouth was like a line from a porn movie –
“I can’t screw it”
“Higher, higher, to the side.”
“It’s tight, it’s really tight… no it’s slipping out.”
I’m like dude, shut up, the housemates are going to think we’re having an incestuous lesbian sex orgy (god that’s going to get the google hits). We could hardly get it done cos we were laughing so much.
Then she’d blocked me in so I couldn’t get over to help her lift the mattress. She goes “I can do it myself, just watch me” so I sat on the couch to do just that. She was determined to do it herself but the thing would hardly budge and kept ricocheting to send her bouncing around the room. We finally got it together (the bed and ourselves) but it’s in the doorway! She reckons she likes it there cos it’s close to the telly.
Anyway I reckon I got a load of incidental exercise tonight, from the laughing if not from the lifting.