Well, this is awkward. I don't blog more than ten words in over a week, and now I'm asking you a favour? Who the hell do I think I am? Don't I know you're busy people?
I know. But the thing is, I need you. At least, I'm hoping it's you I need, because you're my final hope. Something needs to get me off my couch and into a pair of trainers, and if the prospect of raising money for charity won't do it, if Penny's excellent running advice won't do it, if the sight of this weekend's sunshine glinting off my pale, wobbly thighs won't do it, then some good, honest public humiliation had better do it.
Otherwise I'll be dragging myself round this 5k on my hands and knees, and it won't be pretty.
I'm running the Race for Life in less than three weeks. The last time I engaged in one of these half-arsed athletic endeavours, I kept you fully informed of my progress. Every worry, every blister, every illicit pizza fantasy.
You might be wondering, then, why I didn't mention this year's race earlier. Why haven't I been updating you on my training? Where is the thrilling blow-by-blow account of my ongoing issues with my sports bra? Well, I think we can all guess the answer: I've done bugger all training. And the first third of the run is almost entirely uphill. And did I mention it's in less than three weeks? Aarrgghhh.
So I'm putting it out there - I'm doing a run. This run. And the favour I'm asking of you is this: if you happen to see me anywhere on the internet moaning or lounging or whining or eating pizza instead of trying to run up and down some hills without throwing up, I need you to give me a virtual slap in the face. I mean it. Okay? Thanks, folks. I'm counting on you.
(If you really want to up the guilt levels, you could sponsor me. It's for Cancer Research UK, so, you know. Every penny, etc. No pressure, of course. Right now, I'd rather have your encouragement than your cash. And by "encouragement", I mean VIRTUAL SLAPS IN THE FACE.)
{Pink couch by Gabe Aceves via Ruffled}
