A Rush of Blog to the Head

On Tuesday evening I went for a run

My first in eight weeks, I’ll admit it was fun

I know that I’ve grumbled and said in the past

That running is shit, but that wouldn’t last

People said “It’s addictive, becomes like a drug”

And I think I might’ve now caught the bug

So, for something I’ve always said that I hate

I take it all back – because now I feel great.

*

Having not run in ages, I suffered with nerves

As I undressed after work and noticed my curves

I donned my compression top, so I’d look my best

(it constricts my belly, and flattens my chest)

It’s bad enough for ladies spotting my wobbly bits

Without getting jealous of these massive tits

I’d rather they focused on my legs and ass

Craning their necks as I go flying past.

*

I put on my shorts and my snazzy blue shoes

My bright yellow top so I’m easily viewed

(The driving in Sandbach is generally shit

and it’s bad enough running without being hit)

I needed music, so grabbed my mp3

Did some warm-up stretches and went for a wee

And then I was ready, so despite feeling crap

I opened the door and set my Strava app.

*

I left our estate to the main Sandbach road

Plodding along like a bright yellow toad

But I felt pretty good and soon realised

I was enjoying a pastime I’d always despised

Although if you are local and happened to pass

(no doubt craning your neck to check out my ass)

You might have noticed me put on an act –

(look like I was dying, to be more exact).

*

I started to realise my speed and physique

And the fact that I’m clearly at my fitness peak

Could attract some attention and cause a backlash

Upset other runners, or make drivers crash

So, I slowed down my pace and limped as I ran

To make you all think I’m a wreck of a man

After months of not running, it wouldn’t be fair

To be the world’s greatest athlete, make others despair.

*

I pretended my breathing was laboured and strained

My limbs were on fire, my energy drained

I rubbed my right hip and clutched at my chest

Faked pain in my knee, looked fairly depressed

I started to cry like a little lost boy

When they were really tears of unbridled joy

I pretended I was struggling and generally unfit

(which is why I stopped and walked for a bit).

*

After all, I realised my pace was so brisk

The 5k world record was likely at risk

But what was the point if my time wouldn’t count

No medal or trophy, no podium to mount?

I couldn’t see Guinness sending someone to mine

To be waiting with a stopwatch at the finish line

So I delayed my record to a future run

And continued the act to fool everyone.

*

I slowed to a walk, then for any sceptic

I heaved in a hedge and faked getting sick

If you went past, you just might have seen

I brought up something quite sticky and green

But that wasn’t phlegm, the performance was fake

(it was actually my earlier enzyme shake)

While you may have spotted me heaving and pale

What I actually produced was some digested kale.

*

I then struggled on and developed a cough

Told a few passing motorists to kindly ‘fuck off’

(that part was real if you happened to see

since the drivers in question had tried to kill me)

I reached the half-way point at Sandbach train station

Then waddled back home like a wounded crustacean

A few more times I walked for a bit

To maintain the façade I was generally shit.

*

Despite my performance, a sprint’s in my genes

So nearer to home I gave it the beans

Flew down our road and at the finish line ducked

Then nearly keeled over and claimed to be fucked

The truth was I’d smashed it and really felt ace

Despite the anguished look on my face

I unlocked the door and stepped in our house

Ready to be met by my proud kids and spouse.

*

I’d run over 5k and despite a few rests

I was delighted – a personal best

(ok, that’s not true, as the furthest I’ve run

was nearly eight miles in baking hot sun)

But my first run in weeks was still a good test

and back then I didn’t have this belly and breasts

I felt pretty awesome, so I’ll admit that I lied

When I told the boys that I thought I had died.

*

Ok, I was limping and holding my back

And I’m sure I felt sweat creeping down my arse crack

My breathing was laboured, my cheeks had a blush

But that was just from the endorphin rush

If you saw me in pain, I was only lying

I bloody love running, it’s my new favourite thing

In fact, I’ve already planned my next run day….

I should be good to go again some time next May.

*

Thanks for reading x

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