Pimp my blog or book or boys for that matter!

OMG let me tell you all about my run today…I set off from work and got run over!

Ha, only kidding but I did come close to bonding with a Stagecoach bus as apparently, regardless of the road closures in Pontypridd, buses have priority over pedestrians or runners alike.

So, after my dance with death I jogged (as I do) to the park, stretched and made my descent to failure once again.

Now, did I tell you about the amount of hormones I’ve had banged into my by the lovely GP? If I didn’t, there you go. I have been rammed with hormones and swabs and tests blah, blah, blah. I was told I had loose stools to look forward to and not that I wanted to shit myself or anything but if you’re told something’s going to happen you sort of gear yourself up for it, right?

Nothing happened to my stools other than; they arrived like they normally do. You don’t shit, you die and all that.

Now, what the lovely, smiley GP didn’t warn me about was the horrendous wind I would experience.

I was practically projected round my first lap of Ponty Park this afternoon. Not that I’m complaining…well, technically I am. Because as you know, I run with headphones in, I block out the world and its not like I don’t feel myself farting or anything but I certainly don’t hear it; unfortunately for me, other people did.

How do I know this, you ask?

Simple; the look on the poor, innocent, passer by’s faces.

I wanted to shout; its not me it’s the effin hormones, its not me its that bastards prescription, its not me, its my effin tummy!

And as if my seasonal wind wasn’t bad enough, when I hit my third mile, my right ankle did this weird wobble thing which sent a bollocking horrific pain up my calf.

Not another poxy injury, was my first thought. My second; ‘Yes! I can give up now.’ And then it hit me…I was doing that thing, you know, that giving up thing.

‘You are a knob.’ I told myself, out loud. ‘You are not only a knob, you are a lazy knob! Get a grip.’ I swear I saw a squirrel punch the air at that point.

I carried on. I found what I can only describe as a beautiful rhythm and carried on for a further two miles, giving me a nice mileage of a five miler.

I was pleased. Five miles for me mid week is kind of good going, if I do say so myself.

On the other news front, my novels been put out there into that wonderful world of the Kindle. Yes; Scrums and Bananas, as from about midnight tonight will be on Amazon for a measly £1.85! Bloody bargain if I do say so myself and a bit of a hoot to boot! (See what I did there?)

For those of you who’ve read it…get on Amazon and write a bloody review please! (Nice ones will be rewarded in heaven I’m sure.) For those of you who are yet to experience the delight that was my first novel…DOWNLOAD it now. I have a husband and a step dog to feed and a bit of a Guinness habit that I’d like to maintain after this bloody half marathon is dunzo!  

So, I was kind of bouncy as well as kind of pleased today for at least an hour, anyway.

I’m still not loving my being employed situation, not that I’m not grateful for the wage at the end of the month and all that jazz that comes with job security, just feeling a bit jaded by the whole process. You see, what I want ideally, is to be at home, writing, day in, day out. But only readers can make that happen. Believe me I’ve tried the whole praying thing, the wishing thing, even the think positive thoughts thing but nothing puts a plan into action like begging, or pimping I suppose, so buy the book kids!

Back to the running/jogging, you’ll be pleased to know I’ve abandoned the plan completely and am now going to concentrate solely on building stamina and mileage at my own pace and sort of my own time.

Obviously with the Cardiff half looming the ‘own timing’ thing has a bit of a pressure timer on it; but with four weeks left I should be in with a chance.

Shouldn’t I?

She says with a tremor in her voice.