Running

I went for a run - didn't collapse, but at what point does a stitch actually become the first signs of a mild MI? I'm sure it should have gone by now.. It was duly apt that the tune on my ipod was Amy Mac and Run - the lyrics being, .."run until my feet no longer run no more.." Uncannily true, but I pushed through the pain barrier (albeit at snails pace) and finished. Next time I think I should eat first, I mean not right before, but at least more than a bowl of cereal at 10am. Am shattered, but almost too tired to sleep - if that makes sense? Running is not good for you - I've just decided. If I had continued to sit on my arse, I would not be feeling this way. There is just no dignity in running - the face goes red, the panting gets louder by the metre - as if you are bellowing through a microphone - and the annoying thing is - you can't stop if it gets too much. It's not like a game of tennis. In tennis, if you get tired, you can bounce the ball a bit longer, have a bit of a rest between points, wipe the sweat off your arm so your raquet doesn't slip away and people wouldn't guess, but in running - if you stop it's because you have failed. You can only stop when you finish, so if you pass someone in running gear, looking like a tomato; and they are walking - it's because they can't run anymore. So they haven't made it. Anyway, that's why I don't like it. Too much pressure. I'll still do it though, because running is the done thing. Everyone does it, it's just some look better than others. Unfortunately, I'm not one of the some - I'm the tomato. But I made it :)

So, I've sat on my bum for the last five hours, which, for me, is an achievement in itself because:
1) I haven't needed to go to the toilet in that time,
2) I'm normally running around all over the place, through choice I might add,
3) I've resisted the temptation to delve into the fridge and eat more Nutella out the jar - I bought it for some friends to have on their bread, Scandinavian style, however I've eaten it out the jar instead, like it's yoghurt or something.
I'm contemplating that old question of what to do with one's life. I haven't really gotten very far. I've made about 70 phone calls to various people, most of whom are annoyingly studying, packing, unpacking, working, or sensibly not answering their phones. So the contemplating continues in my head, thoughts continuing to bounce off each other like atoms and those other tiny things that I'm sure I learnt in chemistry. At the moment, to no prevail. I might go out for a run and get some fresh air. I run the risk (pardon the pun) of collapsing from exhaustion - ok, slight exaggeration - but I'm not much of a runner really. I did buy some lovely and unbelievably comfy running shoes, which to be fair haven't really been out much, so I guess I owe it to the shoes to go out.. It's all about the shoes, right girls?