With it being around six months since my last post, I thought it was time to reignite the blog.
With the Olympics now far behind us and New Year’s resolutions fading fast, I thought I’d share a little nugget of news: I completed a 10k run.
Anyone who knows me or who has previously read this blog will know, that while I’m no couch potato, I’m no athlete either but I’ve always marvelled at people running marathons. I’ll confess – the most I’ve ever run is for a bus a number of years ago at school. I hate the feeling of your organs moving around in your body; the whole movement feels unnatural, but regardless I decided to set myself the unenviable task of training for the Dubai 10k.
The morning of the run finally arrived. It was so foggy that I couldn’t admire the buildings as I was trotting along but it was also a fresh 10C which I was thankful for at the half-way point, as I continued to puff my beetroot red cheeks, sucking in the cool morning air.
Throughout the run I strived to stay ahead of this sprightly young couple who, it seems for laughs, had decided to push their newborn baby around in a buggy, while I fought tirelessly to stay ahead of them. “I won’t let that baby beat me!” was the mantra to my poor husband who, in a show of support, had decided to run with me.
The last two kilometres were a killer. I got a stitch in my side and despite being around 200 metres from the finish, the baby overtook me, leaving me crushed with defeat. I tried not to let it dampen my spirits and instead turned to the positives: at least I’d beaten the woman pushing her poodle in a buggy. Dubai 10k really is the place for odd participants.
I collected my medal and wandered off in a stupour to recover from the ordeal. It was such an amazing experience but one I don’t care to repeat and I can safely say I’ll be crossing ‘marathon’ off my to do list. I do geniunely now have so much respect for anyone who finishes a marathon, because it must be so incredibly hard and they have to put up with the real nutters in fancy dress!