The importance of sensible shoes

I went off to my Nordic Walking group last night.

I started getting a niggling feeling in the back of my throat - it could have been the beginning of the dreaded lurgy that Mister had, but I chose not to allow that fact to provide me with a much too convenient excuse, and pike out.

It had snowed the week prior and so I was bundled in a million layers and wore snow boots for the occasion. Stupidly, I wore the same rig-out this time.

Last week I went in the beginners group, a group made up of mostly retired people, a fact that didn't worry me in the least.

I got to talking with many in the group and it was quite an enjoyable first experience. The walking poles were next to useless though, since we were keeping pace with the snail, but I had a good time.

Nevertheless, the instructor suggested I give the faster group a go. "Sure" I said, and happily made the move over to the darker side.

Once we were off and err...walking, the walking poles began to realise their potential; we were motoring down the side walks, burning rubber BABY!

Actually after a short while I began to grow rather uncomfortable swaddled in my tonne of clothing. Boiling heat was radiating from every inch of my being, sweat pouring down my face and my feet. Oh God...my feet. I think I could probably strike a match on them. Burn Baby Burn, that was for sure. I could definitely feel a blister developing on the sole of my foot. Snow boots substituting runners - what was I thinking? YYYYOUCH!

I persevered. Gritted my teeth, puffed, panted and groaned my way through the lactic acid build up. I winced and whined as I dragged my sorry butt up English Bluff and down again. We passed a pizza shop on the way back, a fragrant mix of garlic, herbs and hot fresh bread wafting, teasing, luring me by the nostrils, MMMMMmmm....FOCUS!

By the time we made it back to The Run Inn, I was speechless and tomato red. I staggered gingerly back to the car and slumped into the drivers seat.

One of the marathon runners wandered passed with a cheery relaxed look on her face. She smiled knowingly at me, she thought I was a runner too. I could tell. I composed myself for those few moments of telepathic communication we shared..."get a grip girl...it was a damn WALK", I scolded myself, after she was out of view. God I am unfit!

By the time I reached my front door, my entire body felt like lead. My feet burned, calves screamed in shock and for some reason my kidneys felt like the little silver ball inside a pinball machine must feel, after a few frantic games.

Once home I retreated up to the shower and thought about the experience.

Last week was relaxed and social - boy do I need social. This week was more serious. It was all about fitness - boy do I need fitness. I have a decision to make. Social V fitness; fun V hard work hmmmm decisions decisions....It is a no brainer really.

I once saw a quote, which has always stuck in my mind. I do try to live by it. It read:

The easy road leads to the hard road.
The hard road leads to the easy road.
Given the choice - take the hard road.

Fine then... I will persevere with the exercise road, and who knows...it might even lead to something social as well one day.

So with that, I hang up my blister-making-snow boots come walking shoes and drag out the old, neglected in the back of the cupboard, covered in spider webs, runners....no regrets.