Je suis fatigué

What better time than to write another blog than whilst visiting my parents in their home in France. Let me just say we're not posh or rich, they just sold up in England and followed a dream to France. We should all try it some time, the dream following bit. It's done wonders for them.

It's been a relatively lazy (and boozy) few days visiting them to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. But I decided at some point this afternoon, enough was enough. I think it was just as I felt my thighs take on the consistency of sourdough and cream cheese, that I bolted to the bedroom to change my clothes. I decided to go for a run.

Now this in itself isn't an odd thing other than the fact that I haven't been for a run in five years. I know it's five years because in 2010, I finished the London Marathon. And since then my struggle to run has been gradually becoming more of a struggle. If you've read my other blog you know I've had an awful time with a Morton's neuroma, which following surgery has developed into arthritis. Perhaps it was always arthritis coming on but no one could see the horse when they could see a Morton's zebra. But I digress.

Running hurts; it isn't excruciating pain (I'm not stupid...well not that stupid) but it's definitely like toothache in my foot. Sometimes the covers in bed on my fore foot creates pain but what the hell, if sleeping hurts me why not live a little. And yeah and it's starting to hurt the right foot too. I can't bend some of my toes but I will not let that stop me occasionally wearing FM shoes and exercising, I just have to modify it sometimes ie: a wedge heel not a stiletto and walking plank jacks not regular plank jacks.

As number 1 of my 45 at 45 is to 'run another marathon' I decided I needed to start sometime. Today was the day. Let the running commence. I was out just under an hour and I did a nice run walk combo, saw some buzzards, a very large barky dog, got hailed on but also the sunshine smiled its pretty, buttery face at me. All in all, a pleasant experience.

I dodged muddy puddles, saw signs warning me of 'le chasse' and turned tail as soon as the scary grey clouds rolled in, but I did it. I ran and I feel confident that my October marathon is doable if I start slowly and 'build up to beefcake'. Or more realistically 'build up to beanpole'. I already have a beefcake like ass.

It may be the late nights and free flowing booze but suddenly, je suis fatigué. Bed time at 9pm, so rock and roll. This getting fit and doing stuff may be harder than I think.


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