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last year

Built for comfort, not for speed!

Walking in the woods I guess I’m lucky, most people don’t believe me when I tell them my age, so the face is holding up OK, but I’ve let the old bod go a bit, I’m built for comfort, not for speed.

However, I know that exercise is good for me so I have taken to an early morning walk whenever I’m not getting up at o’crack sparrow to go to a networking breakfast.  Just five minutes (brisk) walk away is a little wood with a bridle path so I tramp up there enjoying nature and wondering if those big plants are wild rhubarb (they’re not), and noticing that a horse has been this way recently (quick sidestep).  I’ve gone as far as I think I want to and turn for home.

This is where my enthusiasm gets the better of me.  It’s just a gentle slope away from me and nobody is around to laugh at my efforts – and jogging burns more calories than walking, doesn’t it?  A little gentle jogging can’t do any harm and will make me feel virtuous and healthy.

If, like me, you are built on more generous lines (eat your heart out Renoir, you were born too early) any kind of jogging cannot be described as gentle.  Firstly, there are bosoms!  My sports bra isn’t up to the task of restraining the bountiful breasts – boing, boing.  Not quite in danger of a black eye, but you get the picture.  Then there is the back – all that poundage puts undue pressure on it at the best of times, leaping up and down results in cries of complaint from the muscles.  My knees and ankles were designed for a fit size 12 – not an unfit size oh … biggish, you know.  After a hundred yards everything was shouting ‘stop!’

But I’m nothing if not determined and trotted on.

Another couple of hundred yards and I was more gasping than breathing.  However, I was being very careful about where I was putting my feet – uneven ground and equine droppings are not good for even the fittest and healthiest of us!

I must have struggled on for at least 500 yards, then slowed to a stumble.  Fortunately, bridle paths don’t feature mirrors as part of the scenery, but my guess is that I had turned a delicate shade of puce.  Then the man down the road appeared with his dog.  I straightened up and picked up the pace (just walking though), pride does not allow me to appear gasping and groaning in public.

“Hello, dear.  How are you today?” he asked.  I’m not sure if he was just being friendly or was worried about the colour of my face.

“Good!” I answered as I marched past with something resembling a smile (but might have been a grimace), if only he knew.

My body was in shock.  It was as though it was saying ‘please don’t do that again’ and I’ve been taught that you should listen to what your body is telling you.  I think mine was saying something about a healthy bacon sandwich and a comforting cup of coffee.

Perhaps I should wait a while and work up to it slowly before I try that again!

 

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Lesley Morrissey

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