Day 16: How an event from yesterday could have gone.
Nothing happened yesterday. I'm not exaggerating. I stayed home all day waiting for my ASOS delivery.
"It's not coming," I said. I was making a shepherd's pie for tea, pressing the mash down over the meat with a fork.
Of course it did, when I put the pie in the oven and went out for a run.
I walked for five minutes, then started the repetition of ninety seconds jogging, two minutes walking until my phone vibrated 'End of workout' and I walked back to the house, ringing the doorbell as I tried to get my arms and head out from my sweaty hoody.
I never thought I'd become one of those people who goes running, let alone enjoys it. It is hard work when you're as unfit as I am, but once you get going you get such a rush from it. I have found it to be good for when I am sad, angry, annoyed, bored and happy. It suits all moods. You just have to do it and see. Pace yourself and work your way up. Push yourself. It will hurt.
I'm training myself to run 5km. I should be there by November. It's not for a race or anything, just to improve my fitness and help boost my mood. Sometimes Sarah comes with me but she often has work and is too tired. Work can be a terrible thing. The one benefit I have had from being unemployed is that I am a lot less stressed now. There is more time, and space, and quietness and I can do more of the things that matter, like relax, write, read, cook and plan adventures. I think a lot of people could do with more than twenty five days off a year. We work too hard, but we like it too much to stop, or change anything.
There were some boys in the park yesterday. I don't know why but I changed my route because of them. They were busy playing football so why would they look at me anyway? Perhaps I wanted them to. A lot of my friends have gone away now that summer is over. I met some great people at the food festival last weekend, but generally, Abergavenny is not the place to be when you're aged 18-30.
I counted four steps for each breath in and out. It makes it easier to control my breathing and ensure that I don't start panting and throw up on the side of the road. I haven't cried from running yet.
Every ninety seconds I slowed to a walk and looked around to see what was happening. There were dog walkers and a group of teenage boys mocking me running. I spat on the ground after they passed.
I picked up the pace again. I ran out of the park and uphill towards Mardy, passed the spot where an ex-boyfriend had kissed another girl while I had been on holiday, then through some housing estates of which I recognised from old school friends. I ran up to my old school, through the gates - they remained open until the gym closed at 10 - passed upper school hall where assemblies took place, past my form room above the main reception, past the tennis courts so pristine and untouched, and down onto the pathway between the field and the astro-turf. I saw year ten and eleven and first camera phones and holding hands. The bus bays where we lined up at every fire drill. I ran out through the other exit and glanced up at the house I had stayed in at the weekend. I ran down the road we had walked up to get there. I saw us laughing and swaying and laughing and laughing. I ran on the edge of town and then I was back at the park, nearly home. I walked the last bit, like always. It had been ten minutes, and the workout was finished.