Not the priestly kind – I don’t hold with that nonsense at all – I apologise to those that do, but confessing to someone no better than you, as a conduit to an unknown power that be, who seemingly can absolve you of all sins, is not my scene at all. Nonetheless here is a confession, no forgiveness or absolution necessary.
I don’t really like myself very much, in fact I’d rather no-one see me when running. The last time I liked me, was about 30 years ago, when I was not necessarily fitter, although I might have been…, but when I was skinnier and certainly tauter than I am now.
I don’t actually like to be touched, I get tetchy if I eat too much and tetchy if I don’t. I love fish and seafood, but if I overindulge, then there’s hell to pay. I’d rather be hidden away from view, and I don’t understand how people can celebrate me. If a sneaky arm gathers around my waist, I admit that I flinch. With lots of talk in the media about women’s right to wear, I admit to full camouflage in bright running colours, in the hope that others see a sporty me, and not the me, that I know I am.
So why ‘fess up just now? Because the day of reckoning has arrived, that’s why – the mercury is rising ever higher, ever earlier and frankly putting on clothes is a pain in the bum. Specifically, tight, lycra bound running clothing, seems a total anathema to me, when all I want to be wearing is silk, light as gossamer, preferably with inbuilt air conditioning. As this clothing doesn’t exist, except in my imagination, I have to do whatever I can to lessen the clothing load.
With great apologies to my tum, who clearly does not want to be seen in public, and ignoring her very recent confession, I took the bull by the horns and wore just a crop top and shorts combo for my run today. The JCR podge is less than it used to be, but definitely still there. Reading the newspaper and listening to the radio, it appears certain sectors of society are agog about Beyoncé’s love of her fupa. Good news is, I don’t have a fupa, just a supa (slightly undulating podgy area) and today it got aired.
I apologise to the good people of Le Marché, who showed extraordinary restraint in their response to a supa Inglese on display. (Which actually is quite a good play on words, because there is a very rich creamy gelato called Zuppa Inglese; presumably if one eats too much gives you the aforesaid ‘supa’). In recognition of the horrors that the uncovered corned beef type stomach wobble on display, might wreak on Italian polite society, I was out early to avoid too much scrutiny.
Up Mill Lane, mercifully no-one there to witness the wobble, and then the usual loop to Villa Bali and its grounds. There was party there last night, going on into the early hours and I think some youngsters had stayed the night. They looked a bit ropey and worse for wear – they just followed my progress with their eyes. Not a word was said, but my tum, was trying desperately to stay hidden, through the means of using arms and water bottles in a desperate trompe l’oeil performance art piece. Leaving them behind, I came across Lord Kitchener doing his usual loop. He looked and nodded, – I’m guessing he’s way too polite and proper to comment on me taking my podge out for an airing. I continued my run, hoping for a change that I wouldn’t bump into Anouska and Albino – humiliation would have been completed, had they been there.
A short cut was in order, so I took the Royston Vasey ridgeway to chop out 2km of my normal run. It’s a steep slope downwards and my calves and shins ached on the way down – but mercifully no-one witnessed my supa wobbling her way down. Through Royston Vasey and I met my first oncoming cyclist – hallelujah – he had a ‘supa’ too, and he was displaying it loud and proud. With his cycling top fully unzipped, the world could see his glory and also his boob band heart monitor strap. It’s a sexy look! We exchanged glances – me looking at his (let me call it a) dad bod and he looked at my red-faced ‘supa’ – we said Ciao. Sometimes no more needs to be said, especially when in my case I was hoping to be running incognito. Onwards to fish shop village, and my tum’s desire to remain hidden and anonymous was about to be tested to the limit, as I ran through about 8 people standing outside the coffee shop. Further on in the shade, I passed two dog walkers with dog buddies who went crazy when I ran past. I can’t be sure it wasn’t my ‘supa’ that scared them, but they sounded very angry indeed.
Next up, Bin Lane, luckily for me it was still quiet and I passed one young, cool dude – he said Ciao and didn’t seem to glance stomachward – for that I was grateful. Bin Lane passed without further ado and then I turned onto the all roads lead to Rome road, where my supa Inglese did garner some glances, including one car driver who was waving frantically. Now I have no idea whether he was gesticulating in horror, swatting a fly, waving at me in friendship or was car dancing whilst driving. What I do know, is that the embarrassment of having my tum on display, meant I was focussed on that rather than the kilometres being achieved. Nonetheless, although I ran supa Inglese style I also carried my tee shirt for decency when I entered the cafe. Those good people of Le Marche definitely didn’t need to get an upset stomach by seeing mine, over their well-earned breakfasts. And I did smile when Beautiful South’s ‘Perfect 10’ came up, just as I was gulping down my brioche.
And Mr JCR just informed me when he returned home at lunchtime, the temperature was up to 42 degrees. That’s more supa on display I think – perhaps not on a Sunday though…
(On reflection I wished I’d chosen my ‘sweetie mix’ playlist, as that would have suited today’s theme)
One Day Like This – Elbow
One More Time – Daft Punk
Three Little Birds – Bob Marley And The Wailers
I Can’t Help Myself – Four Tops
Five Years – David Bowie
She Will Be Loved – Maroon 5
Morning Train ( 9 to 5) – Sheena Easton
Perfect 10 – The Beautiful South
10 Lovers – The Black Keys
Swords Of A Thousand Men – Tenpole Tudor
People In Love – 10cc
21 Seconds – So Solid Crew
12 – The 1975
Fourteen Rivers, Fourteen Floods – Beck
Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen – Neil Sedaka
Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks
18 Til I Die – Bryan Adams
19 – Paul Hardcastle
In The Year 2525 – Zager and Evans
30 Minute Love Affair – Paloma Faith
I’m Gonna be (500 Miles) – The Proclaimers
80’s Joint – Kelis
99 Red Balloons – Nena
Average Pace 7:34 (mins/km)
Elevation Gain 21metres
Kms Run 1337.97
Kms to do 680.03