Four is the magic number (today).

Four is the magic number (today).

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7iypCOIGCk

Last night I dreamt of trainers and otters. The trainers probably because you can actually see my big toes through the netting of my once very expensive daps and the otters…well, I have no idea why there were giant otters wearing baseball caps legging it through my mind, probably that bloody mini magnum, I’m now gutted, I consumed?

I had some good news in work yesterday too. Having worked for the company for an appropriate amount of months I’m now entitled to a staff welfare grant. What’s that I hear you ask? Basically, in a nutshell, my company will wing me a hundred pound cheque to spend on things I deem appropriate for combating stress!

Stress; working in a homeless hostel?

So, me and Scotty boy took a little trip up to the retail park where I scoured the sports shop for some running gear.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no Gok Wan, and whatever Scotty boy likes to think, he’s not either, but the gear on offer is slightly dire to what I was expecting, and it’s probably not best to get me started on the prices of the bloody crap that is run wear!

I took approximately three million items of various black lycra, that all looked ridiculously, well, ridiculously shit if I’m honest.

‘I look like a chubby kid in a tracksuit.’ I told Scotty boy sadly as I paraded up and down a very narrow, very unflattering corridor. Scotty boy found this very amusing so in the end I showed him my, still white from holidays, arse! 

In the end I settled for a thirteen pound long sleeve top that is, wait for it, reflective and quite flattering.

‘Pop your pin in please?’ the ‘retail not so assistant’ kid said. To which Scotty boy had a full on panic forgetting the code to his new card. To say the shopping trip was unsuccessful would be a slight understatement. I think my poor fiancée burned off more calories than I managed in my three point thirty seven miles.

So, back to the plan and today is my first four mile run which I’m going to complete straight after work in the pretty settings that is Ponty Park.

I’ve brought my stuff to work and as I was faffing about panicking last night about the bloody knee strap and water bottle, I forgot to put my trainers in Scotty’s humongous kit bag.

Forgetfulness resulted me in lumbering back down my estate for the bloody daps at stupid o clock this morning, very nearly missing my lift to work.

I’ve often run in Ponty Park after work, the ten K (six miles) I completed in March for Sport Relief was six laps of the park. (I managed that comfortably even after indulging in way too many Jack Daniels and Cokes the night before)

It’s a nice lap with only a tiny, and I mean tiny, gradient at the one end. You’ll often pass squirrels and service users alike on the route. It’s always nice for a homeless person to witness me bounding up and down, not unlike a chubby idiot in a tracksuit, after you’ve spent the day telling them not to take drugs!

Now, I’m not overly fussed on lapping, my brain starts to play little tricks on me. For example; on my fourth lap, my so called smart matter will attempt to convince my legs that I’ve actually only run three laps. Or, another risky little game it will play, is to try and convince my legs that they have had enough, ‘Go on, give up, go on, give up!’ it’s a battle of wits with the lapping system I tell you!

I’m feeling really optimistic today though and to tell the truth I’m all ready feeling the benefit of having a structured plan in place. I love a bit of structure, me!

I also got wind, via the pain in the arse that is social networking, that a bitch of a girl I know from way back when is participating in the Cardiff half in October. I’d like to complete the run looking better, fitter and faster than the mare, if possible.

I believe this is what’s known as incentive? Or could possibly be spitefulness? The lines of judgement are slightly cloudy as I tie my laces up.