Thursday, 5 December 2013

NSV Thursday and all that jiggles

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I LOVE this link-up! Every week I think “I got nothing” and then every week without fail I remember something (no matter how small) that counts a s a victory in this long (so very very long) journey to health!
 
 
This week’s happened on Tuesday’s run. For this NSV to make sense we’re going to need a little bit of context, cue wavy out of focusness that always signals the start of reminiscing.
 
 
 When I first started running I ran off road, partly because I like nature (I am a tree hugger, literally) partly because its kinder on your joints but mostly because I was too self-conscious to be running where, heaven forbid, people might actually see me. I was convinced that people (including the ones driving) would see my wobbly backside huffing and puffing as I “ran” my way through the C25K and would a)wet themselves with laughter and b) scoff and demand to know what a lardy like me thought I was doing attempting to run (because obviously it’s for the thin people, you know the ones I mean, the ones that don’t have a spare ounce of flesh on them and that definitely don’t have any bits that jiggle independently of the rest of their body!).
 
Anyway, as I got better at running I switched my route to a local forest reserve where occasionally I met off-roading biker types, but as I consider BMX bikers certifiably insane I didn’t count them as “people”. Then I had to move home and my off-road route got a little busier. But I was back up-North where people are generally friendlier (true-story) and most of the time they were full of sarcastic encouragement. Then the stupid council decided that flood defences were more important than preserving my running route, how out of whack are their priorities?! This forced me onto the road, at first I was a bit nervous, people might actually see me running, so I carefully selected routes that would minimise the possibility of meeting someone else, not a hard task when you live in the middle of no-where, the area is riddled with tiny country lanes. Sure occasionally I would meet a car but normally they were too busy doing their best impression of race track drivers tp pay any attention to me, so little attention in fact that I often consider it a minor miracle that they don’t clip me with a wing mirror!  Occasionally I’d make eye contact with the other runner in the village (yes there is only 1, everyone else cycles, and they all insist on wearing lycra as they do it, but that’s a whole other story), sure I do sometimes worry that he’s going to lap me but mostly he seems too happy to pay any attention (seriously he always has the biggest grin, how does he not end up with flies stuck in his teeth?).
 
Which brings us bang up to date with Tuesday. I was out on my run, a little earlier than normal thanks to the ever-encroaching darkness so I met more cars on the way back into the village than I normally would. When I rounded the corner before the dairy farm I was met with a whole line of cars, stuck because there was a huge flatbed lorry parked outside the dairy with a digger on the back (presumably they needed the extra height?). It seemed although they were leaning over the hedge one side of the road, grabbing a bucketful of dirt and then swinging it across thro ad and depositing it in the farm yard. I’m not sure whether the cars couldn’t get past the flatbed lorry or if they didn’t fancy driving under the swinging digger arm, either way they were at a standstill. I ran past them all, paused by the lorry cab, uncertain as to whether if really was a good idea to run under the arm, as I was standing there trying to calculate the probability of encountering my death, the farmer leans out of the digger cab and yells “go on luv, I’ll wait”, so I didn’t have to run under the  swinging arm of death! SCORE! It wasn’t until 5 minutes later, and I was in the village proper, when all the cars that had been stuck began to pass me that I realised what I’d done. I’d ran past all those cars, full of people with nothing better to do than watch my slow progress, and not once did it cross my mind that they could be watching and judging me, instead I was thinking “so long suckers there is space for me AND the lorry, mwhahahahaha”.
 
 
And this folks is my NSV, finally realising that the world does not care about my running nor my jiggling behind!
 
 
I should go for a run, but as there is a severe weather warning and it doesn’t look like I could make it to the end of the street let-alone around the village, I’m going to give it a miss, what a shame (no, really, I’m actually disappointed). If I’m feeling terribly energetic later I might do an exercise DVD, or not.

 
Me hugging a tree (I was frustrated because it was too big to give a proper hug):

 
Ps can we all take a moment to appreciate the brilliance of the word jiggles. Jiggles. Go on say it out loud...... fun isn't it?


1 comment:

  1. Aww that is a great NSV! Running past carloads of people and not hiding in shame! You go girl! And not getting attacked by the death claw!

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