One Foot in Front of the Other

A few moments after 7am this morning the cogs of the internet firmament clunked forwards and filled the bedroom with the sounds of a local commercial radio station. I squinted at the clock and murmered “Alexa, stop”.

I promised myself yesterday that I would run today. A fleeting thought went through my head – whispering “let’s do nothing”. Unfortunately I’m very good at getting on with things – which explains how I then found myself stumbling around the house a few minutes later in pursuit of socks, shoes and shorts.

It was a beautiful morning, with steam billowing from back-roads as overnight frost gave way to trickling streams. I listened to a random playlist on my phone, and set a timer to do intervals for half an hour – running for a few minutes, walking for a minute, then repeating.

I surprised myself. I thought I might struggle more. I’ve put on quite a bit of weight during the last year – weight that needs to go. I’m not going to go on a crazy diet – I’m just going to stop eating so much rubbish, and get off my arse.

This afternoon will mostly be spent moving a bookshelf from my daughter’s room into the study (the junk room) – the room I live in throughout the week while working. It invariably ends up being the “destination of all things” in the house.

The bookshelves in the study once stood in my apartment – they are proper free-standing bookshelves – made of stained pine. They have out-lived the various fashionable IKEA shelves that have replaced them, and will probably outlive me. For the foreseeable future they will tower over the study, filled with a random assortment of bits and pieces until I can quietly file everything in the rubbish bin without too many people noticing.

Right. Enough writing about it. I better get on with it.

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