Everything looks like a cow

For some strange reason, although I was up early yesterday, spent the day out and about or inside packing, and completely knackered by the evening and falling asleep reading my book in bed, then I couldn’t sleep and kept waking up and was even woken up by the cat being sick and the bread machine doing it’s thing and so at 6:30am I get up before my fake sunrise comes on and before the bread machine has finished doing its thing and as I’m not aching after yesterday’s pitifully slow three miler, I decide to do another run.  Woo, get me, Miss Finely Tuned Athlete.

I clean up the cat sick and go into the bedroom to get changed into my running gear and I realise that yesterday when I carefully picked out enough clothes, including running gear (on the assumption that I’d do two more runs this week) to last me until Saturday as I packed away all my other clothes (two bin bags full for the bin, four bin bags full coming with me), I didn’t keep out any running socks and so I’ve got to wear normal socks to run in and then I’ve got to decide whether to wear the ones with monkeys, sheep, cats or cows on and I decide on the ones with sheep on and my Garmin gets a signal in record time and I leave the house at 7:30am hoping the postman doesn’t come in the next half an hour as I’m expecting three more parcels of stuff I bought via eBay and I hope I don’t have to wait all day for the postman as I need to get to the sorting office before 1:00 when it shuts to see if they’ve had my parcel from Saturday returned there yet and I don’t want my tenant getting all my parcels and parading around in my new sunglasses, whilst drinking out of my new cow mug and making jewellery with my new beads.

Ladybird Book of Farm AnimalsI go to the marshes via the boring way first this time and as I go towards the bridge another runner’s coming towards me and I think, aah, another hardcore runner, running early in the morning, I bet he says hello to me, the hardcore runners are usually the friendliest and he does indeed say hello to me and I say hello back, so he knows I’m also a hardcore runner and not just a red-faced shuffling thing and I get through the bridge and I think I see cows and then I think no, they’re not cows because a) the cows aren’t due back until July; and b) they’re horses and I think I’d better get the Ladybird Book of Farm Animals before I move so I don’t go up to horses and say moo and look stupid in front of the Country People.

And then I’m back to thinking about what to pack next, as I’ve still got a desk to sort out and the entire contents of my kitchen to pack and I think I could pack all my dishes and stuff and just use one plate and knife and fork and wash them up every day and then I think HUSH!  WHAT AM I THINKING? DO MY OWN WASHING UP? I don’t think so and then my thoughts turn to Juneathon and I wonder if Joggerblogger/[rich] will mind if I take over if he can’t do it this year and Hauling My Carcass has asked what the Rules of Juneathon are and so here’s a quick rundown and I will be reminding everyone later in the month and cracking the whip then.

Juneathon rules
Run or exercise every day
Blog about it

Easy, huh?

And then I get home and my hair’s all over the place and I think maybe I should get a hairband like the new doctor in Eastenders wears when he’s out for a run (which seems to be most of the time) and I think no, he looks like a dork.

Distance: 3.03 miles
Time: 34:20
Pace: 11:20 m/m
Calories: 255
Cat sick: 1
Fresh loaves of bread: 1
Pairs of sheep socks: 1
Hardcore runners recognising me as a fellow hardcore runner and not a red-faced shuffling thing: 1
Horses: lots
Cows: 0
Plates I’m going to wash up myself: 0
Rules of Juneathon: 2
New dorky looking doctors in Eastenders who do nothing but run all day: 1
Foo Fighters
Duran Duran
Electric Soft Parade
Cardiacs & Affectionate Friends

A fashion guide to the countryside

As you may have noticed, I haven’t blogged for a while and you also may have noticed that the last time I blogged it was about how I didn’t run the Reading Half Marathon, only turning up for the important bit, i.e. the drinking beer and eating pizza bit.

As you may also know, I have a move to the countryside coming up and whilst thinking about things like letting my house out to women with kids (kids?  In my house?  Eek.) and telling the mortgage company and the insurance company and the TV/broadband/phone company and the Inland Revenue and the gas and electric companies and countless other companies (do I need to tell the man in the local off licence to tell his kids not to expect any Christmas presents this year due to Santa’s profits being hit?) it occurred to me that I’m going to need some posh new running gear so people in the countryside don’t think that Londoners are a bunch of scruffs.

So what do I buy to impress the countryside people?  Do they even care?  If I buy green will I look like a tree and run the risk of having a dog wee on me?  And what size do I get?  I’m going to have lots of running time on my hands (or should that be feet?), so will I run so much I’m going to shrink to a size zero?  Ooh, I hope so.  Or maybe I should get a size 14 as, as well as having lots of running time, I’m also going to have lots of time to explore the new fridge and its plentiful supply of chocolate that I know lives in there.   Or maybe some hi-vis gear due to the fact that I’m going to have to run on the road (or lanes or whatever it is countryside people call that three foot wide long bit of concrete they drive down) and risk getting run over by a tractor.

Maybe I’ll just stay here where it’s safe and there’s less likelihood of being weed on by a dog or run over by a tractor.  But then where would my excuse for buying new clothes come from?