Run Forrest Run!

I went running at 7.30am today and I need to show off about it.

*Pauses and waits for 90% of the readership to leave the post*

Seven-fucking-thirty.  Amazing.  I don't normally even surface until 7.35 on a school day. Stu was asleep, Sebi was fast asleep, only Zak was awake to applaud me in my efforts and he only managed a swivelled eyeball away from the Ipad to shoot me a confused look before returning to shoot something in Angry Birds Star Wars.

I didn't even have breakfast.  A banana and a pint of water and I was off.  For the first 0.2 of a km I was full of it.  Look at me.  Really.  Look at me.  Running the streets of St. Albans whilst the masses still had their curtains closed.  Then at 0.3 of a km I got hungry. Really hungry.  Eaten-a-big-fat-plate-of-pasta-last-night-and-stretched-my-stomach-muscles-and-then-decided-to-go-running-without-brekkie kind of hungry.  Arse.  I'm stubborn though and I carried on the route I had planned trying to remember who it was that told me I would burn serious calories for the rest of the day with this early morning burst of fitness.

I realised I had become a member of a club I had never asked to join.  You tend to exchange a smile with opposite-direction runners whenever you are running.  From them, I think, it is normally an encouraging smile or a smile of camaraderie.  From me, it is always, always, me laughing at the pair of us for putting ourselves something so horrific for the sake of beauty.  The 7.30am jogging club has a different kind of smile from both sides: we are all seriously fucking smug.  I can be smug while it lasts, I can't imagine it happening again this decade if I'm honest.  I normally run after school drop off but the tropics of St. Albans are ensuring that even 8.45am at the moment makes me an unusually sweaty Betty.

All this showing off and how far did I run I hear you ask?  1.75 miles.  I reckon there must be some kind of Bermuda Triangle hiding somewhere up Jersey Lane.  I felt like I ran for miles and was out for ages but no; 18 sodding minutes and 1.75 miles.  Arse, arse.

As I drove past McDonalds at 10.30am I toyed with the idea of a Large Quarter Pounder with Cheese Meal.  After all, (a) it must definitely be lunchtime as I had been up for so long, and (b) a 1.75 mile run first thing must surely cover those calories and then allow me lunch as well?  Luckily, as it was so bloody hot, I couldn't face the Maccy D smell today otherwise my healthy day could've drifted into minus points quite early on.  As it is, I've rewarded myself with a couple of wines in the pub with my Daddy and a couple more with my hubby.  I would imagine that the other early-rising joggers are already tucked up in bed with a carrot juice ready for tomorrow's outing.  Good luck to them.