This time I ran on my own, in the dark. It was much harder on my own.
I developed a few leaks though so I obviously did something right.
I've decided that my fitness app's voice has a name: Morwen the Apathetic Android. She cheers me on at every interval change in a very robotic voice.
High. Intensity. Forty... FIVE... Seconds.
YOU... Got.
ThIS.
I did it.
I bloody well did it!
My cousin, who's training me, even said I was a runner now!
I have successfully survived my first ever running session.
Go me!
And go I did!
Admittedly before I went, I went to the shop and bought two large twixes and a packet of crisps which I consumed on the way to the park.
Why? Not sure. Cause I was very very nervous? As a last indulgence of the urge to binge? Cause I just wanted to? Dunno. Anyway I paid for it later
I have some.
They're squishy and feel like I have pillows on my feet, they're massive compared to my habitual sandals. So yes. I bought a pair of running shoes for to do some running with.
Yes.
Running.
With the bouncing and the sweating and the small children staring in wonder at one's decidedly un-gazelle-like form lumbering along the road.
Running.
May the gods have mercy on my soul for this will probably be my doom.
*insert dramatic pose of woe*
I'm an addict.
It's not for a vice that is socially acceptable or even one to which society feels any sympathy. No, I'm a drain on your taxes, a poor excuse for a human being, easily identified by the physical toll my addiction has taken on my body. Weak willed and vilified by the media. And I deserve it because it's all my fault.
I'm addicted to food.
It's been my coping mechanism for years and it is going to kill me.
