Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Why I will never be a good jogger

It occurred to me this morning, as I jogged around the local park, that I will never be a jogger.

Hmmmm, what's that you say? Wasn't I jogging as I realised I would never make a good jogger? Well, yes. Of course. I mean, most of my realisations and "good ideas" come to me when I am jogging. I had a whole list of reasons why I was not going to make a good jogger by the time I had finished my run. And I was absolutely convinced of it by the time I had stopped, too.

Here, I'll give you the list I made and we'll see if you can guess what it was that so thoroughly convinced me:

• Location?  No, I am spoiled for choice about where I can go, including a grassy well-lit oval that's good all year round, no matter the time of day.

• Improper sports bra?  Well, yes. But no. I can get around the issue by wearing two. So that's not a good enough reason.

• Shin splints? Hell yeah. That's a good reason right there. Anyone who doesn't know what shin splints means obviously doesn't have the problem - let's just say, it is cross-eyed, blinding pain down your shin bones and aaaargh... I get them if I walk too powerfully. But I've discovered if I walk/run on grass, I'm good to go. And go. And go. So, no. This isn't the reason.

• It makes you stinky? Well, of course it does. But it's a goooood sweat. An invigorating sweat. And it's not a good enough reason for me not to jog. Pffft!

• Lack of music? I could always rectify this problem by taking the iPod out. I just forget and don't get organised. So, no. It's not that.

• I don't own any Lycra?  Nahh. The lack of spandex or purpose-bought running gear is not something I find makes me feel lacking at all. I can get by with a pair of long shorts and a manky singlet. Who's going to see me at 6 o'clock in the morning, anyway? Especially at this time of year? Let's face it, if I wasn't such an endorphin junkie, I would be tucked up in bed like the rest of you.

• I despise getting up early?  Pah! Poppycock! If any of you think it's this, you don't know me well enough. Early morning is my faaaaavourite time of the day. I feel cheated if I "sleep in", such a waste of that superb new-day vibe you get from being up and conscious before 7am (preferably before 6am! No, really!)

Look, all these things have merit on their own to be considered. But even put together, they are not nearly enough reason for me to stop persevering with the jogging.

No. There is one other thing that has me very close to stopping.

It's that gangly, boundy, slobbering, enthusiastic, hopeful eejit that gets under my feet in the hopes of getting my attention that does it. And I'm not talking about Steve when I'm trying to clean or cook in the kitchen, either.

Jazz. She is the singular cause for me jarring my body, doing quick leaps, dodging and just generally probably looking like I can't run a straight line to save myself to anyone watching from afar who hasn't spied the 50-odd pounds of flesh wrapped up in a chocolate brown fur coat that insists on placing tennis balls in my path. And then after she does that, she runs backwards - not terribly fast, as you might imagine - looking at me with those hopeful, pleading eyes.

I've half a mind to leave her at home. I can't, though. I simply cannot cheat her out of her chance to sniff and explore the world outside the gates. But maaaan, oh man, am I close.

How ever would I break it to her?

"Ball? My? Ball? You want? My ball? Ball? PLAY BALL? BALL????"

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