Day One. The first run (read jog)

I wouldn't say I'm one of those people who can just casually set out and run a 10k run. Run for ten kilometres?! I've know plenty of people who are that sort of person, I'm sure you do too. They have the gear, the athletic physique, the general healthy glow about them. They're all very impressive. Not that I'm saying I'm unhealthy - I'd like to think I'm in alright shape; I try to keep an eye on what I eat - unless its Friday night curry plus a couple of glasses of wine night - I'm a member of a gym, which I actually go along to at least once a week. Ok, the 'at least once' usually consists of a weekly Zumba class where I can follow the instructor's impressive moves, to some funky music (there are mirrors, so you can't just do exactly what you want) - but the thought is there - I keep an eye on my weight and I like to be active (sometimes I go on the cross trainer too). 

However, I've now casually agreed to do a 10k run in July. Sounds easy, huh? A nice run through central London; the website looks great 'see all of London's top sites as you raise money for charity' type thing. Raising money for charity, brilliant. Of course. Seeing London's sites? Excellent. Running the whole way? Well, that's the plan..

So this afternoon an email pinged into my work inbox: "Fancy a jog tonight? x" My boyfriend, knowing I want to start the whole running 'training' off soon. Glad of the encouragement, I agree and change into my leggings and trainers as soon as I'm home. That's the first thing. The trainers, I've owned for literally years. They have been my faithful foot friends through astroturf hockey matches when I was about 16, the odd netball matches, some sports at university, tennis and jogging since university. I've had them for a hundred years and they are almost part of my anatomy. As I pulled them out of the airing cupboard, with the 10k in mind, I look at the layers of encrusted mud engrained into them and think 'Could it be time for a new pair?' for a brief moment. Then no, the brief moment has gone and I sling them on. Ah, my old friends. Those, a pair of  leggings, and my orange t-shirt. Brilliant.

The jog tonight actually went alright. Ok, so I had to stop from time to time - it was the first sunny day of the year - I wanted to enjoy it! And we ran down Bermondsey Street which actually looks really nice. I was nicely warm and my breathing had definitely increased twofold by the time we got back home. This is a good thing, right? I'm slightly worried in hindsight that at points in the running I couldn't actually see clearly. But I think that could have been a bit of hayfever, rather than signs that I was about to pass out from sheer exhaustion.

According to my boyfriend's new app (there's an app that can track your route, see how fast you've run and how far, and how many calories you've burned - technology these days continues to amaze me) we'd run about 3k in 20 mins (ok, so on my part that included some quick walking, but only in places). I think this could be the start of me becomming one of 'them' - one of those super running types; what do you think?

About to jump in the shower, drop my trainers off, and cool down.