Run! Run! Run!
Up the hill, past Eddie’s house. Eddie is walking back from the Village Shop, and flashes me a sympathetic smile. Run! I plod onwards, motivational running music (John Denver) blasting from my MP3 player. A familiar red van approaches – it is the Postie. The Postie leans out of his window and shouts something; I cannot quite make out what it is, but it sounds a bit like ‘HAHAHAHAHA.’ I run on.
Len the Fish is walking his dog as I reach the crossroads where I turn towards the duck pond. Unfortunately, he is heading the same way as me. This gives me a dilemma, as I haven’t seen Len the Fish for ages, and would like to say ‘hullo,’ but if I stop then my legs will fall off.
I jog on the spot for a moment, whilst I attempt to summon some breath to explain this to him; in the end I manage to emit my ‘hullo’ and run on. Len the Fish laughs good-naturedly at my running – he knows nothing. I press on, past the duck pond. The ducks laugh good-naturedly at my running.
Before too long, I am home. Tired, but content with my achievement.
“The thing is,” I tell Big Andy later on, “Child #1 now wants to wander up the road to the playing field and play cricket and stuff, and I find that I am wheezing and exhausted and out of breath. And then we reach the playing field, and it goes downhill from there.”
“Anyway,” I continue. “I am determined to lose weight and be a bit more healthy.”
The following day, I go swimming with the rest of the family, despite the fact that I hate swimming and can’t really swim. I force myself to do two lengths, one after the other. Having played bowls the previous night, this completes the triathlon – my own personal iron man challenge. I can feel aches in my shins, my arms, my bowl-delivery hand. But it will be worth it.