Minimum Bounce Marathon

Flushed with my recent success in the swimming pool, I decided to branch out into running. I have always harboured an urge to do a triathlon, being fine with the cycling and fine with the swimming, but always struggling with the running. I'm not built for speed.

Enthused by the marathon taking place this very morning, I dug around in my wardrobe and found my jogging bottoms, retrieved my mangled trainers from behind a shoe box and, very relieved, found my M&S 'athletic minimum bounce' bra at the back of a drawer.

I took off into the park at a steady (and exceptionally slow) rate. It went OK at first, but then I started to pant heavily. I was very pleased to see other runners with headphones on, so a) I didn't have to waste precious breath with a greeting and b) they couldn't hear my cheyne stoking. A bit further on and I was starting to struggle, and tried to distract myself by wondering who was sitting in the low flying aeroplane overhead. Disappointingly quickly, I was fighting the voice in my head saying, 'give up now, why don't you just walk, walking is nice, walking is gooood, just give up'. I decided to just keep my eyes on the next tree, then the next tree, and so on. There are a lot of trees in the park. After ten minutes I was pleased to remember that I had been listening to my favourite 'angelic' music with younger son, and had explained that this was what was to be played at my funeral. With my heart thumping away in my chest, I inwardly applauded my forethought and began to plan other aspects of my funeral. There wouldn't be a dry eye in the house as the letter I had written for the occasion was read out (note to self to write this, although when do you find the right moment to pen your own funeral address - when drunk? When happy? When depressed?). Luckily, this line of thought had taken me quite a few trees further on. My left knee was complaining a bit, and I was getting fed up with my chest shaking up and down in spite of the promises made by the foundation garment packaging. It was quite disconcerting that my stomach was also shaking quite a lot too - that never used to happen. Another mental note to self to get the ab roller going again.

I eventually made it to the wrought iron fence with important looking newell post that I have to tap with my hand before I can stop. I felt quite smug as I went through my stretches like a proper runner. I hoped I had created the impression that instead of having just jogged a mile, I had circumnavigated the park at impressive speed. I'm not sure anyone was fooled.