 |
| Looks so innocent, doesn't it? |
Oh, I DO it, but I don't enjoy it. The only reason I do it is so I can eat and drink. The only reason I do so MUCH of it, is so I can eat and drink a LOT.
It's not that I don't WANT to enjoy it - life would be much more pleasant if I did. Trouble is, the whole time I'm exercising, I'm thinking to myself, "I'm exercising. I'm exercising. I'm exercising. This hurts. I'm hot. I'm exercising."
I've heard people get an endorphin rush from exercising. I've yet to experience this. Well... there WAS that time I beat Sunny Hill in a sprint finish in the school cross country, that felt pretty good. (Mainly because she was the first girl to finish though. Does that make me sexist?)
No, the only thing that seems to get MY endorphins rushing is the smell of melted cheese. Sadly, there's a significant fat content associated with melted cheese. Cue; more exercise. See the vicious circle I find myself trapped in?
In a desperate attempt to make my exercise regime more bearable - if not enjoyable - I have tried to vary it up as much as possible. Some days I lift pointless heavy objects. Some days I get choreographed high-impact aerobics moves completely wrong. Some days I stretch myself in every direction for 45 minutes and then lie on the floor trying not to go to sleep for 8. On Tuesday nights I play badminton - really averagely.
Then one day a week I go for a run.
Again, let me clearly stipulate; I don't run for the enjoyment of it. To make my 8kms more tolerable, I rely heavily on my iPod playlists and the pleasant views offered around the Orewa Estuary cycle/walkway.
You'll notice most of my exercise choices should take an hour at the most. This is another reason I loathe exercise as much as I do; it's just such a monumental waste of my time. Those 60 precious minutes are another hour I could be melting cheese on stuff. Vicious, vicious circle.
Like anyone though, my carefully plotted out exercise regime is thrown into chaos once I leave town to go on holiday - especially if that holiday involves the excess of available chocolate Easter does.
Unfortunately, running is the most portable of my exercise choices. No matter how many suitcases, beach towels and boogie boards we've packed, I can generally find space in the boot for 2 sneakers.
This meant Good Friday morning found me pounding the streets of Mount Maunganui for a change. We have family in Mount Maunganui so it's not unusual for me to go for a run there. Usually it's a bit shorter than my regular route (I AM on holiday) but perhaps a bit harder, given I often do the second half along the beach.
However, this particular Good Friday, things took a slightly unexpected turn.
For those of you unfamiliar with Bay of Plenty geography, let me give you a quick rundown... Mount Maunganui on one side of the harbour, Tauranga on the other, quite an impressive road bridge between the two. Now, in a relatively new development, pedestrians and cyclists can also span the harbour via a boardwalk attached to the old rail bridge at the other end of town.
I've cycled the 2 bridge round-trip before. I didn't seem so far. Ha ha ha ha ha. What an idiot. I woke up on Friday morning feeling really good. This only happens to me about 3 times a year so I thought I'd make the most of it and extend my range a little. Or, as it would eventually turn out, a lot.
I figured it'd be more scenic to start with the road bridge and end with the rail bridge. I figured many things. Most of them I got wrong. Starting with the distance TO the road bridge in the first place. Seems a lot shorter in the car. Funny that.
No matter, no matter. Once I got over to Tauranga, the jog along the waterfront was both pretty, and more importantly, about the same length I was expecting. The rail bridge leg of my journey proved further than anticipated which was perplexing, given I've crossed it both by bike and on foot before. Perhaps the previous kilometres run made the bridge stretch out a little. No matter, no matter.
The part of this run I had completely miscalculated was the distance between the rail bridge and civilisation, in this case civilisation being the Bayfair Shopping Center at the South End of Mount Maunganui. I have no idea how I got this so wrong. Neither maths or geography have ever been my strong points, but given I had actually cycled this road before, how could I have forgotten it so utterly?
By the time I'd left the bridge, I'd already exceeded my usual sub-60, approximately 8km route by some considerable margin. No matter, no matter. Just keep running, Bayfair must be right around the corner... any minute... maybe this next corner... hey, there's a signpost... maybe that'll say how far it is...
BAYFAIR FOUR POINT TWO KILOMETRES!!!
It was at this point I knew I was in trouble.
But what can you do? Only two options really; walk home or run home. For me, the equation was simple - running would be quicker, then this whole nightmare would be over.
The rest is a blur of various joints screaming their protest, bleeding nipples and the desperate (yet, ultimately fruitless) hope the Domestic Manger may have started to worry about where the hell I'd got to and come to pick me up.
That didn't happen of course and eventually, many MANY k's later, I staggered in the door to find everyone had given up on me and buggered off to the beach. In spite of this, I had survived. I'd run further than ever before, completely by accident, and lived to tell the tale. Still no detectable endorphin rush, just a vague sense of satisfaction and a burning desire for a hot shower and a lie down.
I "MappedMyRun" later on, but I think there must be something wrong with their calculations. Nobody runs 18.2kms by mistake... especially not me.
 |
| Behold! The damaging stain a bleeding nipple can leave |
No comments:
Post a Comment