My last post detailed just how exhausting “lockdown” had become for me, and it felt that way. But then yesterday I watched my elderly dad teaching my children to play cricket in the park – a game he’s played for perhaps eighty years and taught for over fifty – and my mum looking after us all, again something she’s been doing for over fifty years, and I realised, this game’s all about the long-haul. There’s no room for moaning; if you want to be fabulous, you have to keep buggering on. So today I decided not to faceplant into my duvet and instead got up at 6 am, did a few hours’ work to catch up, took an ice cold bath (woo hoo!), and then fuelled by T Rex, Billy Bragg and Pink Floyd, ran the hill run that, 11 months ago, split my shin – followed by a LOT of stretching, another ice cold bath (screaming beasts, two in one day!), followed by warm red wine and strawberries.
Today, my shin did not split. It’s a weird thing to celebrate, but I’m chuffed.
Next up, cuddles and mountains, in that order.
2020 isn’t about turning 50, it’s about being halfway to 100.