The Milk Tray Man

Yesterday, I was extremely hardcore and burnt off almost a pizza’s worth of calories (that’s 1,000 to those of you who don’t speak pizza) by cycling 3 miles to the gym, doing a 45 minute spin class, followed by 25 minutes on the rowing machine, 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer, 10 minutes on the rowing machine, then cycling back home 3 miles, via the optician who told me I had cholesterol on one of my eyes and need to go to the doctors to get checked for high cholesterol (which reminds me I need to go across the road and register at the medical centre).

So, after yesterday’s extremely hardcore effort and spending the rest of the day in a nicely weary-from-exercise state, I wondered how I’d feel this morning.

I felt great. And I wanted to go for a run. So, as my feeling-great-and-wanting-to-go-for-a-run days are pretty few and far between these days, I thought I’d better get out there.

I looked in my gym-and-running-kit-drawer and BAH! I didn’t have any tights with a pocket to put the door key in as the ones with a proper pocket are both in the wash and the ones with a crap pocket are waiting for me to sew up the hole in the front that I noticed was there just before I went into a body pump class, thereby making me spend the whole class wondering if everyone could see my knickers.

But then I remembered my full-length Ron Hill tights that I don’t really like wearing because a) they’re not the comfiest of tights; and b) I look like a dork wearing them but decided it was either a) look like a dork with a pocket to put my doorkey in; or b) look even more of a dork with a key tied to my trainers.

I decided to look like Dork A.

As I got out the door, I realised I was dressed head toe in black with my long-sleeved black running top, my dorky Ron Hill full-length tights and my black gloves that I’m still wearing because it’s still cold here in countrysideland and so I set off looking like the Milk Tray Bloke or whoever it was that climbs through windows and stuff delivering chocolates to sleeping maidens, although in Ashford, it’d be more likely to be a burglar climbing through a window to be greeted by the sight of a chav unconscious on the floor after being rendered paralytic by too many blue drinks in the classily named local nightclub ‘Hustle’.

I run round my usual three mile route which takes me along the road for a bit, then along a scary track for a bit where I saw what I thought was a small white dog then realised it was a medium-sized white carrier bag and got to the dumping-trollies-and-other-rubbish bit, then over the bridge where they’re building a new housing estate called ‘Bridgefield’; imaginatively named what with there being a) a bridge; and b) a field, then down the non-scary trail and past the sheep, then down the hill until I got back and saw that I’m still really really slow and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to post my pace without deep embarrassment again.

Stats
Distance: 3.01 miles
Time: long time
Pace: slow
Calories: 287
Eyes with cholesterols: 1
Doctors registered with: 0
Dorky tights with pockets for doorkeys: 1
Runners dressed up as Milk Tray Men: 1
Housing estates with imaginative names: 0

8 comments

  • Haha, you never fail to make me laugh with your blogs. I’ve spotted white dogs which are actually plastic bags before…

  • Love this post, cheered my Thursday afternoon right up! 🙂

    I take pleasure in looking like a dork when out running, when else would I get to wear bright pink and neon green at the same time?

    HBx

  • LOL – A hardcore dork!! Your blogs are so descriptive I can see you running in my head – well a picture of you running not actualy you running in my head cos that would be wierd, and a biological impossibility… Anyway how do you get cholesterol in your eye? Do you stick chips in them??

  • Hey, what’s wrong with being dressed all in black & nothing wrong with ronhill pants either! That’s what I wear all the time. 😉

  • oh, my! i had no idea i looked like a dork when i put my key in the laces of my running shoes which i do not do anymore because i don’t run in running shoes anymore i only wear them when gardening in which case i’m wearing pants (usually) with pockets perfect for keys and other assorted items that would look silly tied to my shoes. thanks for the fashion tip. and, btw, as you know, i DO speak pizza! mangia!

  • Good that you maintain the tradition of dressing in black. Round here there seems to have been some sort of edict that all runners must wear hi viz

  • Running in tights? And tights with pockets? They’re definitely tights, not leggings or lycra bottoms? Or some such other pant?

  • Running tights, Naj. Kind of like leggings but different material. I usually wear 3/4 length ones but you can get full length ones.

    For men, too. Honest.

    http://www.wiggle.co.uk/ronhill-ladies-aspiration-contour-capri/

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