Round the World Fail...

This weekend just passed saw plenty of running in Wellington, including the half marathon, but I wasn't a part of it. Despite insufficient training in April and May I was still resolved to grind it out, but things did not go according to even this shoestring of a plan. I knew the lead up to the 21k would be tough because I had a trip to the UK planned from the 4th to the 14th of June, during which it would be hard to fit in any running in at all. However, on the way back to Blighty I did have six hours between flights, and the interwebs told me that Changi airport has a gym. With this in mind I made sure my hand luggage contained all the things I needed for some running, including, of course, the ugly shoes.

However, this plan became susceptible to change because Rach had to book flights back to the UK with me at the last minute and through the strange mists of international travel ticket booking she was on a flight out of Singapore three hours before me. Flying into Singapore together we decided to see if I could get the earlier flight. We weren't hopeful but we had nothing better to do than hang around an information desk. To our surprise I was able to switch flights, and for free! Which was a lot better for me time wise, although my heart and lungs may never forgive me.

Still, I thought I'd get some running done while in the UK and really I should have, it was abject foolishness that stopped me. I was knackered all the time but I could have put in a couple of twenty minute runs, as it was I don't think I even walked for 20 minutes. I was driving a lot while I was over there and running would have been a great counter to the knotted back, but I failed to act.

Over the course of the week I was in the UK I had a wicked cold come on, which really slayed me on the way back, and I didn't have as long a time in the airport so, once again, the shoes stayed in my bag, primed, ready to go off, but ultimately unused, unloved. Back in Wellington I pretty much worked and slept for a week, jet lag and the cold that killed Wellington (seems I contracted it before I left NZ, and not from the snotty guy sat next to me on the outbound journey, like I told everyone) leaving me with little energy and just enough sense to realise that running in the wet might rate as a stupid idea.

So, the ugly shoes have been halfway around the world and back again without being used once. In fact, the closest I got to running was watching a documentary on the plane, about three guys running across the Sahara. I feel shame but I still haven't been running for an age. In fact, the last time they got used for any real exercise was when I tried wearing them for fencing, and they were pants for that, or at least I like to blame them for how bad I was that night. Running though, is this the end? Will I ever run again? Will I ever do the half marathon? Is this the end of the ugly shoes? Will I have to change the name of this blog? Tune in next time to find out.

The Smell of Success...

With the onset of winter in the southern hemisphere stench has become a bit of an issue. With reduced sunlight our house has become significantly more damp, meaning the ugly shoes are a breeding ground for smell, or whatever bacterial thing it is that creates the smell. Last week I made the terrible mistake of wearing them to work, where I became so overpowered by the honk that I went out to buy something to deodorise them before any of my colleagues complained. Instead of going to the chemist or the shoe shop next to it for something proper for doing the job I reverted to the mindset of a teenage boy and bought some Lynx. Despite profuse spraying I failed to allay the odour but I did make the office smell like, and I quote a workmate, a “sixth formers changing room”. Although I think Lynx must have changed its formula since I was at school, as the cloud it creates is no longer quite so caustic to the back of the throat.

So now the ugly shoes live outside and can only be worn for exercise. Which is good for the eyes and noses of folks around me but I miss having the option to walk into work in them, they are very comfortable for the locomotion.

I also have a blue hooded top, which is completely wrecked. There are holes in the sleeves so large that my elbows stick out. This makes it an excellent top for exercise though, and when it’s raining I like to wear it with the hood up and pretend I’m Rocky. Although he clearly had enough self respect to have a hoodie without holes in the elbows. There’s probably not enough space on the intertubes to list all my deficiencies in comparison to Rocky here, so I’ll stop before this turns all Spanish Inquisition. Anyway, my hoodie got wet, with my sweat I think, and I left it in the laundry, which is a damp and musty room itself. Then I wanted to go out for a quick run, so I put it on the radiator to dry it out. Well, what a weird smell that created! It completely stank out the bedroom and I had to do some emergency airing before Rach noticed.

Yes, smell that people, that’s the smell of effort; I’m paying in sweat, and so is everyone else.