Today I have a headache, which is making it difficult to concentrate on my writing. I could call in sick. Can do anytime I like. I don’t have a boss, a deadline…I actually don’t really even have a job. So sure, I could call in on 100% sick leave too. It’s just that it’s even harder to get published if you haven’t actually written a book.
I have four days of early mornings coming up, so in an effort to be able to cope with said early mornings, I am going to try to get an earlier night tonight. I feel like a kid again in the last week of the Christmas holidays and mum is trying to get us back into routine for school. I hated that week. The reality of a new teacher, of maybe not being in class with your friends. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I’m glad I don’t ever have to go through it again.
None of which has anything to do with running, the original purpose of this blog.
Today I ran up and down my parent’s steep driveway, interspersing my sprints with situps and pushups. All of which would have been fine, if the people who bought the house next door hadn’t decided to move in at exactly the same time. There I was chugging and lugging my arse up the hill while four generations of new neighbours interspersed rearranging the living room furniture with having a good laugh at the girl next door. I had my iPod on, listening to the Russians, so I’m not totally certain of what they said, but I imagine I made a rather pathetic sight. The driveway is neither very long nor particularly steep so it would be hard to justify the amount of energy I seemed to be exerting.