Oh bugger, the sun's out

I am told that in some distant future point so far away that I can't tell if it's even really there, I will find that I love running. Apparently one day a leisurely jog through beautiful countryside will be - and I quote - "bliss". So many people have said that this will be, that I have to believe it may. But until it is true, I must suffer the miserably skewed perception of the beginner runner when it comes to beautiful views and sunny days.

When I got up on Saturday, the sun was streaming through the window and the house had a lovely sense of Spring about it. My first thought? "Oh, bugger, the sun's out."

You see, when it is cold and rainy the less able runner has some assistance. Rain and frost keep a person cool, they keep the shade of puce in the cheeks down to something that is slightly less alarming for anyone else out in public. In warm weather, I watch people hover over their mobiles, wondering if this is one of those times to actually intend to call the emergency number (if they don't have proper signal, they sometimes look quite excited at the prospect of seeing if it really works). I try to smile reassuringly at them, or wheeze a breezy "Hello! Lovely day!" as I zip by. And then they wonder if, in fact, I am recovering from a stroke.

And when it rains, I can legitimately run in Steve's mansize raincoaty thing. I haven't yet learned what they are technically called - very thin, waterproof tops that cover me up past my bum as well as performing a secondary job of keeping me dry.

One of my daughter's friends saw me out running one freezing cold day and said to Lucy "Was your mum wearing a fleece out running today?" You bet your primary school ass, I was, lady. It keeps me warm and covers me up.

I feel terribly self conscious about running and anything I can do to minimise the amount of time and energey I use feeling like I might have to stop as much because I'm embarrassed as because I am knackered is a good thing. Even if that means that people look at me, note the cloudless sky, and wonder why I'm wearing a runner's raincoat. On reflection, perhaps they think I have run so far that I've come from another weather zone. Next time, I'm going to splash myself with water before I leave.

And as for beautiful countryside, well, sod that. I'm staying in a beautiful part of Yorkshire in June, celebrating a friend's birthday with lots of other lovely people. We've chosen a beautiful cottage, we're ignoring that thing the Queen's doing, and it will all be completely wonderful. Except on the Sunday of that week, my training plan tells me I'll need to do a FORTY FIVE MINUTE RUN.

Forty five minutes in less than a month's time?! That would feel insane if it was just a case of plodding round my usal Fenland-flat nicely tarmacked route. But everyone knows there's hills in Yorkshire. Every time I think of my lovely holiday, I go "Ohhhhh!" (happy face) followed instantly by "Ahhhhh" (wince) as I remember the run.

Anyway, I can't stop here gassing all day. The sun's gone in and the hail's started. Perfect weather for a run.




Don't forget - I'm doing this for a reason...