Running with scissors

So today was the BIG day. There was a pep talk at Camp Paula for the big event.

Today was the day that we would actually start running.

Body and I were reluctant but knew, like ripping off a band-aid, that it had to be done and running shoes was so excited I almost had to get the nappies out (yes there was pee involved).

So after a few km in, I told the gang it was time and the running began. At first all was well. I was singing the Chariots of Fire theme song in my head and imagining big things, there was just a few minor problems...

Now at all previous training sessions there has only been walking and as such training attire was perfect: tracksuit pants, t-shirt and semi-sports bra. It worked...well until I started to run and then all hell broke loose!

My tracksuit pants wouldn't stay up - apparently the elastic wasn't quite up to the challenge of any sudden movements, so I looked like a sixteen-year-old boy with my underwear hanging out (not a pretty sight given I wear Grandma panties). T-shirt seemed to be up to the challenge of running but underneath was another story. Bra straps were constantly falling down and I felt like I was going to knock my eyes out at any moment and turn up to work with two black eyes (imagine explaining that one). I don't think my poor boobs had had so much action in years.

So after a great deal of yelling and screaming it was decided that tracksuit pants and bra were no longer part of the marathon and would have to cheer from the sidelines (more therapy needing to be booked).

(Note to self: Must get proper running attire but NOT silly little running shorts - butt will make a guest appearance otherwise and I don't want to scare the children.)