Saturday
28th May
Distance:
2:08 miles Time: 31.11 Avg Speed: 4.01mph Avg Pace 14.58min/mile
Calories
Burned 362 Calories
Burned TOTAL: 1404
Another
one of those ‘I don’t want to get out of bed mornings.’ I had a broken night
last night, not down to any pre get up stress or end of term burn out. No. the
son and heir went out with a friend last night and one thing I have learned
about my son over the years is that ‘I won’t be late mum’ is code for ‘I’m
going on a bender and I won’t be back before dawn!’ Now those of you reading this who are parents
know that it does not matter how old your babies get they are always your
babies and you always worry. So although I had not gone to bed until about 1.15am
and had fallen straight to sleep the inner mother does not sleep. When they are
tiny babies you wake just minutes before they do, as if some great internal
nurturing clock had synchronised with the rhythms of your sleeping infant, the
same is true of your adult baby. When he is out I sleep now, I didn’t used to, I
used to lie awake worrying and fretting for his safety, however my inner mother
woke at 4am (and after that I really did not get back to sleep properly) and I knew
he was not yet home but true to form about 10 minutes later I heard the
rumblings of a 34 year old man struggling to open the front door. Once in he
then heads to the kitchen, he is always a hungry drunk! This morning as I dragged
myself out of bed following the fractured night I was greeted by a scene from
Hansel and Gretel, there was a trail of cake crumbs leading from the bathroom
back down to the kitchen. I must admit I was very tempted to go and shake him
awake and ask if he wanted to come on a run with me, as he is also doing the
GNR, but being the caring, considerate mother I am I decided to let the little
lamb lie, besides which he is a moody sod when he is hungover and I know I would
have got a mouthful of abuse, so I let the sleeping dog lie. My Raison d'être had
stirred briefly as I arose but as I always do on a Saturday morning I left a
sleeping house.
In
the early hours whilst waiting for the drunkards return I had lain awake
planning a route and I had decided that I would not yet turn left at the top of
the street, for some reason my psyche sees a right turn run as more of a ‘breaking
myself in’ run whereas going left is a commitment to go further. I knew the distances
and if I was to head off down to Hyde Park and amble down Hyde Park Road, down
Royal Park Road then pootle through the Harolds and Mayviles I could then come
back up Cardigan Road and along Victoria Road and back home through the
Richmonds. This I did but at the point I would take the quick cut back to my
street I looked at my tracker and realised if I did that I would be short of 2
miles and I feel that I need to keep 2 miles as a minimum distance so I dragged
myself up the north face of Richmond Avenue and home. It is worth pointing out
here that my tracker tells me that the maximum altitude I reached was 476ft,
and as those of you who know the GNR know, IT IS HILLY, so I feel that I need
to build some climbing into my runs as last time I did the run the hills were a
big shock to my little legs that were used to relatively flat runs.
I
felt ok this week although at those moments, and there are many, when I break
out into a walk I found that my ankle pained me and running was more
comfortable than walking. I figure the reason for this is very simple. My feet
do not like flat shoes! Since a very early age, I think about 9 years old, I have
worn heels. I love heels I do not do flat shoes! There has been a whole furore
in the press this last week about women and heels in the workplace and how ditching
heels is the new burning our bras. Now I wholeheartedly support a woman’s right
to liberation, equality and freedom from oppression that is not in question but
I intend to support my gender with my hooters pointed high and my feet firmly
placed in my Cinderellas. I never burnt my bra in the 60s and 70s and there are
2 very good reasons for this 1) I am blessed with a comfortably rounded bosom
that requires a good level of support. 2) I can’t be doing with the feeling of
my boys swinging around unrestrained or looking anything less than perky! I pride
myself in the fact that even though my norks are a substantial size, have
breast fed an infant for 2 years and are placed on 54 year old body they are
not in a bad place and if I did choose to go braless or wear a plunging top
with ‘titty tape’ requirements then I could do it without them looking like a
bag of old laundry! But I will not burn my bra. 
Neither will I surrender my heels. I love my heels they define me. I am only 5’1¾”, that is not tall and I always wanted to be tall. I have girls in my class at the moment who, at 10, are already taller than me. So I wear heels to make me tall. I can still remember my first pair of heeled shoes. My mum had always bought me sensible Clarks or Startrite shoes but at the age of about 10 I was allowed a pair of Barratts shoes. They were brown Mary Jane types with inset shades of red and brown on the upper, the block heel was about 1½ inches and if I caught the light just at the right angle on the shiny polished church floor on a Sunday morning, I could catch a shadow where they looked about 6 inches. I would sit and twist and turn my foot in the light musing and admiring the long shadow, the die was cast and so began a lifelong adoration of heels. I will not surrender them. I always remember chatting to one of my neighbours some years ago, at the time she was well into her 80’s and she said to me
“Do
you know Janet I am just like you? I always wear my heels I always will they
make me stand up straight and hold myself properly, I don’t want to be one of
those old ladies who stoop” So Eva Cope I salute you, and like the truly
liberated woman that you were I too will always wear my heels and hold myself erect
whilst pointing my brassiered tatties to the sky and celebrating my freedom and
liberation.
For
now I will close as always by saying thank you for your support and if you
could please sponsor me at https://www.justgiving.com/Janet-Lewis3
for however much you can spare I and www.musculardystrophyuk.org would
be most grateful.
Thank
you
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