The trouble with moving to a new land is that you lose that easy familiarity with your surroundings and are forced to embark on a whole process of rediscovery.
Exciting for the most part (like being on holiday!) but sometimes it would be rather nice to know where the best independent bottleshop is, or the best takeaway, or closest place for emergency groceries – why yes, I am an old lady.
I’ve used this unfamiliarity as an excuse to explain my complete lack of exercise (other than climbing the very many, many internal stairs) since … consulting my beloved sportstracker … 8 May when I ran 4.02km.
For the past 2 months sloth has been my watchword. My fave yoga teacher has a class early enough on Thursday evenings to impede my ability to attend, and running? – with no excellent harbour view? Please! Excuses, excuses.
Today I was totally over my sloth, busted out the running gear and the most excellent Prodigy and set out.
I am so accustomed to running on the flat that I found the gentle hills (some being >45o) a little confronting and was compelled to walk for a wee bit on occasion, but hey: 4.23km is nowt to be sneezed at.
The shins are a little achy, but I feel as though I may be able to keep this up.