Run-way too Slow

While most six year olds were spending their Saturday mornings watching Saturday Disney, my TV binges were always cut short mid-way through ‘Kim Possible' (a total abomination might I add), for a trip down to the local parkland, to quite literally be dragged by my dad around the cross country course. There were more tears shed in the short two kilometre shuffle, than there is in an entire season of 'The Biggest Loser'. You're probably questioning why my dad bothered with the whole affair. No doubt his patience was wearing thin and his competitive nature was taking a battering having to lose week after week. But a young parent determined not to raise ‘a quitter’ persevered, up until three weeks later, when my persistent tantrums proved worthwhile, and I could finally watch Saturday Disney right up until 9am. 

Whatever happened between then and now can only be explained by the fact that I was subjected to subliminal messages during 'Brandy and Mr. Whiskers'.  I'm no fitness fanatic. And if it even looks like it's going to rain, you'll catch me running to curl up on the heater sooner then you'd see me outside working up a sweat. But I must admit, I really do enjoy getting up a little earlier going for a jog and starting the day of right (even if everything does go down hill from there, starting with pancakes and extra maple syrup for breakfast). It's like I'm apart of a secret club consisting of morning joggers, walkers and their pouches. And the best part is that there is next to no one around, which means my beetroot cheeks, sweaty brow and impression of Kim K's crying face stays a secret. 

Whether it's 2km or 6km, you'll rarely catch me with a pair of ear buds in. For me running= thinking time; thinking of the ensemble I'm going to rock on Saturday night, what's going on with Taylor Swift and Calvin Harris? And who knew turtle necks would make such a massive come back? (Maybe I should keep my platform flip flops, they might be the next thing to come rolling back round the fashion cycle). My thoughts often drift to whether I'll make it to the end of the street, or if I'd be faster walking. So needless to say there are no epiphanies on my behalf.  

Are you a gym junkie? Yoga girl? Or are you like me and the runners are calling you? Whatever it is that takes your fancy, I hope you aren't missing out on precious Saturday Disney time, cause no exercise is worth that amount of devotion.