Getting back into things is hard. I’d love to tell you that we had an amazing run at Bolton Abbey this morning, that it felt effortless and easy, that everything came together and that I loved every single second, every single light, fast step. But that’s obviously bollocks.

I hated it.

From the very first step I hated it. I was out of breath before we’d even made the first slope. I never really settled down. It went something like this. The ‘Me’ segments were of course all in my head other than where it says (out loud).

Me: Two minute running is a long time!

Me: can’t breathe

Me: walking’s good, I can walk

Me: how can I be this tired after 2 x 2 minutes?

Me: Oh FFS

Me: Don’t like it

Me: urgh

Kath: Look a woodpecker

Me (out loud): hmph

Me: Wow not even half way, nowhere near half way

Me: I’m sure something hurts

Me: downhill, yay

Me: Wanna stop

Me: Might ask Kath

Kath: Make sure you’re taking it all in, it’s such a gorgeous day

Me: Fuck off

Me (out loud): Yeah

The Aqueduct comes into sight…

Me: Yay, half way but oh fuck stairs

Me (out loud): I’m really struggling

Kath: Do you want to walk a bit longer

Me(out loud): no

Me: yes yes yes yes yes yes yes but fuck off and stop being so bloody reasonable and nice

Me: there’s that bastarding hill soon

Me: oh look there it is, the fucker

Kath: do you want to try this in sections?

Me (out loud): yes

Me: I don’t want to f-ing try it at all, I’ll just curl up and cry here thanks

Me: I’m going to puke

Me: or pass out

We manage the hill and the downhill and the end is suddenly in sight

Kath: Coffee and bacon sarnie at the end?

Me (out loud): Yes please

Me: Race Ya!

So yes, I hated it but I have enjoyed having done it ever since we finished. It was a hard won 3.34 miles at a painfully slow place but it’s a start (again) and Kath was right, it was a gorgeous morning to be out.