I didn’t want to make dinner tonight, so I bargained my way out of it by saying I would take the dog for a run. I shouldn’t have done that really. It is fucking cold outside. However! I didn’t have to make dinner! And due to the aforementioned cleaning rule, I don’t have to clean the kitchen either! Sometimes life just gives you lemonade.
Oh, apart from the whole “run with the dog in the cold” thing, which is more a lemon than lemonade. If you’re interested (and you’re not) I’m doing the Couch to 5K thing, which in theory takes you from a sedentary couch-loving life (it doesn’t mention the internet but I’m sure it’s implied) to a sporty 5 kilometre running machine in nine weeks. Some American fellow has made free podcasts of each week of the program on iTunes, which are set to really uninspiring techno background music, but they tell you when to run and when to stop. I like the stopping. The dog likes the stopping too, as he gets to sniff and wee and turn in circles and stuff. Unfortunately he doesn’t pull me along during the running bits, useless animal that he is. He trots along without a care in the world, while I labour along beside him taking great heaving breaths and shuffling along like a zombie. (I do this in the dark, for added zombie effect. Also see above: it is fucking cold and WINTER, which means it’s always dark.) However I’m up to Week Four (don’t ask me how many weeks it took me to get to week four; I don’t want you to feel embarrassed for me) and that has multiple five-minute runs and I RAN THEM. ALL. I am a FITNESS GOD. I don’t know what that makes my exponentially fitter dog; the Creator? Thor? Maybe I am just one of the minor gods. That sounds about right. I’ll need to practise my smiting before I can work my way up the god pantheon.
Not a god. Not a superhero, either, despite appearances.