Or such is my feeling and impression. I'll skip the sad parts of my life as a blob (yes, I was a round one) and will get to a confession. I don't like running. Really. I never liked it. I won't event run to catch a bus. The idea that got me sold to Camino, which I mentioned in earlir posts, was the utter lack of running. Yst here I am - gasping my way through the decrepit streets of suburban London. All thanks to some Hungarian lady (don't trust Hungarians!).
Admittedly Nika sent me a plan on how to start the training. I did not follow it at all. Possibly I would have, but regular lifestyle doesn't quite work if you have a partner, a cat, a job and all the things you never consider being a young & em... a careless person.
So I admit. I ran. I ran like a gazelle. A very old, wounded, sick, three-legged gazelle. But it counts! On the upside I seem to be able to maintain this sickly tempo for about 20-30 minutes. This is as much time as I had over the past few days. I plan to up the ante next week or so as it seems that cycling to work throughout the last year actually gave me some stamina!
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