I fed my piece of string quickly through my 20 year old stretchless fitness leggings hoping to hold them up this time, the last, I held them so tight around my tummy, like I was clutching a baby, desperately trying to keep them up. I had had visions of me running along with them round my ankles, like some kind of new ‘stretch exercise band’ – bloody hell I begin to reminisce, 26 years, 5 months ago, I had jogged for the last time. I was, believe it or not, nine months and two weeks pregnant, very desperate to persuade my first daughter to come out and say hello before being induced. Blimey I ran faster then than two days ago. So here I am at 61, encouraged by my youngest daughter, 24, (coach) to get fit, loose weight, be healthy (if I don’t kill myself running first) so I can be here for my grandchildren in time to come – why, I thought to myself, did I encourage them to have children later in life, after living their own… I might have to jog into my 90’s just to run round after them.
As I put on Winnie (our beautiful cavapoo, much loved asset of our family) her tail began to wag so excited, I on the other hand wasn’t excited in the least Suddenly we were at the park, how did we get there so quick. ‘let’s walk fast mum, and when I say, we are going to start jogging for 60 seconds again Okay mum lets begin….’ She sounded so calm and looked so lovely, how could I quit. After three seconds I was chocking for breath. ‘mum try not to swing your arms it’s using all your energy’ so i stopped swinging them up in the air like Mike Tyson. Suddenly my running almost stopped. ‘I c a n ‘ t, wheezingly I tried to speak’ and thought to myself, my arms are propelling me through the wind, like a swimmer, without the hands, I won’t make it, I thought to myself, I definitely couldn’t have said that out loud for another half an hour at least.
Oh no, up ahead, that dreadful lady who hates my happy friendly dog who shouts at me. How embarrassing, I usually hold my head high, listen to her moans and think nice thoughts and send out love, she must be terribly unhappy inside I always thought, to be upset with happy Winnie. How could I put my head up high now, I ran with it down, again like Mike Tyson, but he does it shield his face, I can’t hold my head up because I haven’t the energy. Getting closer, head goes up, stride gets longer, I spring along for all of a half a minute, just enough to get by her. That reminded me of walking past the very, very handsome Barry, when I was a kid. Head up, breasts perked upwards, shoulders back, swing on (like the women in suits) instead he pops into the coffee shop, slouch, breasts down, trodge back in place of the swing -peering through squinted eyes into the coffee shop as he hugs a beautiful girl. Back to Mrs Grumpy – bollocks I have to go past her again only next time will I be able to pull my back up let alone anything else.