Yesterday I went for my first run of the year. And by run I mean borderline leisurely stroll along the waterfront. I also took a selfie to mark this momentous occasion, because after almost 3 weeks of my only physical activity involving lifting my arms to my mouth, I felt it should be recorded in Instagram history.
Although I deeply despise all things sporty, I do love a brisk walk in the morning. It’s a solid 30 minutes of time to myself where the only thing I do is think of a sh*t load of random thoughts and say hello to strangers as they walk by.
Our neighbourhood is predominately filled with older folk who like to walk their fluffy white dogs first thing in the morning and families with teenagers who, judging by the looks of pure joy misery on their faces, I’m imagining have been told to “get outside and take the damn dog for a walk!”
So whenever an older person or a semi-surly teen is walking towards me, I look them in the eye and greet them with a fairly enthusiastic, “Morning!” to which I usually hear a “Good Morning! How’s this weather?!” (older folk) or a “um, hello” (teenagers…who obviously has been instructed to not make any form of eye contact with weird old birds who think going for a 30 minute walk is somehow going to magically burn off the 4,372 extra calories they may or may not have inhaled during the Christmas break.)
So you can imagine my surprise, when yesterday a young 20 something came walking towards me. She was pushing a pram with the cutest looking baby sitting in it, quietly taking in the world that was zooming past with each long stride his mother took. (I’m assuming she was his mother as I don’t live on Wisteria Lane and as a result, nannies aren’t exactly a thing in my neck of the woods!)
She was also dressed in a skin-tight tank top and very short shorts, kind of like the ones Pam used to wear, but a million times more fluro and there was really loud music blasting from her iPhone. To say I was envious of the look she was rocking would be an understatement!
As she walked towards me, I was all set to dish out my old lady greeting, when she beat me to it with a very friendly (and rather loud), “Hey! How’s it going?!”
I’d like to say I had time to respond, but sadly for me her 20 something legs were working at a much quicker pace than mine and before I knew it she had literally whizzed past me in some sort of young, friendly, fluorescent haze!
“Bloody hell,” I thought to myself. “I’m old enough to be her mother. How depressing is that? Where the hell are all the old people with their fluffy dogs? They always make me feel much younger when I’m out for my walk and holy crap what is with my kneecaps? They are aching like a mofo. (Mum, if you’re reading this, that means Moderate Fool, but it’s probably not something you’d want to say out loud at one of your lunches with your golfing pals.) And FFS, why did I come the long way? Now I have to walk up that big hill with aching knees. This is really a less than ideal situation for all concerned. I’d much rather be at home right now, sitting on the couch drinking a coffee, but no. I’m here, in the sweltering heat, trying to get my fairly hefty 41-year-old body up this god damn hill. “
And right at that very moment, my random thoughts about caffeine and old lady kneecaps were cut short when the sky decided it was an appropriate time to pour down with rain!
I somehow managed to get myself to the top of the hill, slightly out of breath and with my clothes soaked through thanks to the fat raindrops that insisted on hitting me for a solid 2 minutes.
When I looked up to make sure I was finally walking on a flat footpath, I noticed two policeman standing on the side of the road. One was chatting to a bloke they had obviously just pulled over, while the other was staring straight at me.
Now I know I’m known for slightly stretching the truth every now and again, but trust me when I say this particular officer was ridiculously good-looking. And he was looking straight at me. For the entire time I was walking towards him. Which, if I’m honest, was a little bit weird.
I wasn’t sure if I should trot out my “Morning!” greeting or not and as I approached the officers, I decided against it. I mean they looked quite hot busy with old mate who had been speeding and I didn’t want to look like the local nutter who went around bellowing at local law enforcement, so I gave Hot Officer Number One the handsome young policeman a smile and walked the remaining 100 or so steps home.
And it was then, as I walked through the front door and caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror that I realised the t-shirt I had worn on my first run walk for the year WAS ENTIRELY SEE THROUGH THANKS TO THE F*&KING RAIN THAT HAD PELTED ME HARDER THAN A NERF GUN ATTACK AS I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT UP THAT GOD DAMN HILL!
Old lady blogger who likes to scare the living daylights out of random, handsome police officers by accidentally starting her own wet t-shirt competition at 7.30 in the morning OVER AND OUT.
Ever gone for a walk and come home in see through clothes? Somehow I have a feeling that’s only ever happened to me….
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