Like many things in life, jogging is probably good for Carly. Her knees are up for it. She has the right sports bra, and some patched up, sort-of-ok trainers. But she can’t really say she actually enjoys jogging. All that talk about the endorphin rush at the end. No. Carly doesn’t experience that. Maybe because she only half-runs, when out on a supposed jog. She doesn’t run fast enough or for long enough for that elusive hormone blast. Carly does so like to be in control but probably doesn’t enjoy running because she cannot control enzyme release. And then she considers when she has tried to drink a milkshake with some cannabis or eat a biscuit containing it. No effect whatsoever. She wonders if she has a genetic mutation leading to maladaptive hormone release? It is more likely that she just hasn’t jogged hard or fast enough to get that rush. And the milkshake and biscuit were hash-light? Or maybe she is just deluding herself that she is actually jogging at all. And who needs cannabis to feel high anyway!
Carly will often bargain herself out of a run. She convinces herself that maybe she was going to cycle later? Or she did one of those very energetic 7-minute workouts to Tabata music with lots of swear words in it. She is no stranger to swear words. But actually, this workout takes nine minutes and that can sometimes be too long. She has found equally good ones that last 2, 3 and 5 minutes. All prime number minutes. Really, Carly admonishes herself. This is pathetic. It isn’t like Carly has run out of energy. Ever. Nope this just won’t happen in her lifetime. It is actually how she decides to spend it - this is actually the issue here. When she was younger, she worried that if she ran too hard and with great exuberance, she would knock herself out with her enormous breasts bouncing uncontrollably upwards. But for the most part, this is only theoretical as they are pretty much encased in leaden lingerie that cost a fortune. At least during daylight hours. Another ridiculous excuse. Like telling herself she will need to shower afterwards. But she never really gets that sweaty as she half-jogs and half-walks.
When Carly is off out on a jog an idea or thought will often, without warning, pop into her head. That really is no revelation. All humans have the propensity to think all the time. Carly knows this and has tried to quiet her buzzy mind with mindfulness and meditation. But she cannot allow her mind to be in a vacuum, however hard she tries. She is Carly. And she just cannot concentrate on absolutely nothing. She is a person of motivation and direction. So, when she is out jogging and a fascinating idea comes into her head, rather than banish it, this idea becomes the perfect excuse to slow down to a walk to consider it further. When you want to consider something seriously you need to see it from all directions, and how can you do this whilst going fast? Honestly, any excuse will do.
She is quite good at getting others to run. On Saturday afternoons she was in charge of her two younger brothers whilst her parents had their regular, weekend snooze. Sometimes they would watch a dull black and white film on BBC2. At other times they would practice and then perform a play. Carly would play the ugly character like Rumpelstiltskin; one brother was a princess and the other a horse. And if the weather was dry, Carly would march them up to the local library. She would make them run between even numbered lampposts whilst walking between odd numbered ones. This seemed to keep them amused for years! She had also run gym club in the morning when they would line up and do rolls and flips on her bed. And there were always lots of rounds of ’over-take, jelly-bake’ in the garden on bikes. And there was always the ’throw-your-shoe-the-furthest’ whilst swinging. Carly delighted in this as she always won. Not surprisingly as she is not only highly competitive, but she is six and seven years older than her brothers. Sometimes their sister joined in the plays. But she was adamant she had to play the queen or princess leaving the boys to be beasts of burden only. They objected to always being assigned these tedious roles. But not as much as Carly objected to how spoilt her youngest brother was. She had to eat all her food put on her plate. This wasn’t negotiable. But her youngest brother would lob most of his food into his pelican bib and still be allowed to have a chocolate penguin. How totally unfair, remembered Carly.
But this story is about jogging and not childhood memories marked by sibling rivalries. Normally Carly jogs when she is on holiday. It is part of her plan to allow her to sit around for the rest of the day. This is particularly pertinent when she is on one of her sedentary craft retreats. In Limoges, France she finds one circuit and sticks to it. Always clockwise. And always before breakfast. Otherwise, she will never do it. Elsewhere “The Jog” is tied in with a congratulatory-end-of-run coffee. This happened particularly on her sabbatical in Pushkar, Rajasthan in India. She’d run and simultaneously decide which coffee establishment she would visit at the end. This would help plan her route. One night she stayed at The Secret Garden. The circuit she chose was pretty small. It was a secret garden after all. So, she thought she would run around it 19 times. This is her favourite prime number after seven. But she became confused which round she was on. She had a marvellous idea and picked up one fallen amla fruit each circuit and put it in a pile at the end. 17, 18 and finally 19. Time to collapse in a heap.
Another time in India, on an aptly titled “Knit for Peace” holiday she found a local park and she increased her laps by one every day. She enjoyed changing her route by making the rounds clockwise, anticlockwise, figures of eight and any other configuration that took her fancy. So, her runs increased by 0.2km every day until she reached 5km. Luckily the holiday had finished at that auspicious milestone or there would not have been ample knitting time. Oh no! that wouldn’t suit Carly at all. Not one little bit. Knitting always trumps jogging. Especially if she is knitting for peace. Unlikely, muses Carly. She knits for herself!
For many years Carly would jog with her personal trainer every Monday morning. Come rain, shine, hail or snow, off they ran through Highgate Woods. They would jog slowly to be able to chat and break up the tedium of jogging with a raft of exercises deemed good for you! But at £50 a pop for a jog around the woods it was actually rather costly. Surely Carly was committed enough to do this alone? For sure the dogs would join her anyway, and this left lots of extra money for yarn (passion #1) and coffee (addiction #1). She wonders if she needs to deal with her coffee addiction. Maybe there is a group like AA for alcoholics anonymous or NA for narcotics anonymous? CA for caffeine or coffee anonymous? Maybe she needs something more specific. For those addicted to independent coffee establishments. How would the 12-step programme work? And what would her sponsor be like? Maybe she could combine it with JAA? Jogging avoidance anonymous. And KA? Knitting anonymous? No really, she doesn’t need any more knitting friends!
Maybe these pipe dreams need to be kept in check? And when on holiday she should continue with all three. Jogging before a full-English, knitting as a mindful pastime and one coffee a day. Surely one vice is ok? And she has to use her trainers if she brings them with her. They are her trusty pink footwear with their red embroidered spiders closing the holes made by her big toes. Recently, Carly went jogging on the Isle of Wight. She heard loads of birds, saw a gaggle of friendly dog-walkers, ran around a castle with a moat and saw three rabbits. In the purple mist. Good job she ran. Yes. It justifies slothfulness the rest of the day. Sort of!
