I don't mean to brag but I've been running not once, not twice, not even three times but four times this week. That's four times that my wobbly bits have been squeezed into spandex and dragged along the nearest flat road (reached by half walking, half crawling up a semi-mountain, this is
Haworth after all.) That's four days I have spent
scanning the sky hoping that it will rain and therefore excuse my lame efforts
at running. That's at least four prayers of 'Dear Lord, I think I'm having a
heart attack. Please let me be wearing my non-holey knickers just in case the
paramedics need to be called."
It's also four days of basking in the 'I went for a run last night' after-glow. And it's this glow that is keeping me going... well, that and the fact I've promised myself chocolate on a Friday if I run four times a week. Oh yes, Kit-Kats, Curly-Wurly's, Maltesers, Mars-Bars, Galaxy, Snickers, I'm not picky, I love them all equally.
In total, I have clocked a rather magnificent 16 miles. Some of those might have been spent power walking, some of those might have been spent making a new playlist on my ipod but hey, I did it. Now all I need to do is tell the good people on Daily Mile so I don't register another big, fat zero come 2015... oh, and buy some chocolate of course.