It’s a Wednesday evening in
mid-June and I am running. I’ve been running for 20 minutes and there’s still
another 10 to go, but I’m not giving up. My heart is racing but I keep my legs
moving because I’m nearly there. It’s only at this point that I really start to
think about what I’m doing.
I am running. Me. Running.
Anyone that knows me well would
know that sport and I have never got on. PE lessons were always my most dreaded
time of the week, I have next-to no interest in team sports and until recently
I hadn’t consciously exercised since I left school. However, that has changed. I
always admired the people with gym memberships (or those that actually used
them, at least) and I think part of me always wanted to be one of the “sporty
people” but I knew that I wasn’t one and that it would hard work to make myself
become one. I was one of the girls that stayed inside and read books, not
exercised!
