My running shoes are, rather embarrassingly, 2 years old today.
Following a fairly monumental relationship breakdown, I found myself on a honeymoon for one. I’d spent what should have been my wedding day playing at someone else’s wedding, earning a nice fee to be used for a brief holiday to try and get myself back together after my own wedding was cancelled with 7 weeks to go.
I had always wanted to go to Bath, and a particular hotel in Bath, and seeing as life had gone incredibly wrong in a short space of time, I decided this was the moment. It was eye wateringly expensive, but I’d earned the money and my goodness me did I need a couple of days hiding from reality.
I’d looked at going abroad, but for obvious reasons wanted to avoid soppy couples and too many romantic sunsets. I also only had a few days to spare, as I was booked for weddings both weekends either side of my week off. In the end, 3 days in Bath seemed like the perfect option.
It was blissful at the Royal Crescent Hotel. I slept, I read, I soaked in the spa. I slept some more, in a room that made me feel like I was in Pride and Prejudice. I walked frequently from my room to the spa, in the pouring rain.
I had a Reiki treatment where the therapist put her thumb over the chakra between my eyes and everything literally melted away beneath me (it didn’t last but it was wonderful at the time). I had a wonderful massage (the best I’ve ever had in this country). I had an industrial strength body scrub and afterwards was very cross that there was no one else to feel how divinely smooth my bum was. I did a 3 day detox where I ate nothing. Normally this would be torture, but I felt that as everything else had gone so wrong, not eating would be a walk in the park. It was a Beyonce-esque Lemon Detox programme and it was fabulous.
On my way back to the station, I popped in to Running Bath, having decided that this would be the year I started running. I had my gait analysis and tried on 3 pairs of shoes. As is so often the case, the first pair fitted perfectly. They were silver, which was good. Unfortunately they were also pink, which was bad. Things got in the way, and apart from a couple of trips, I hardly used my new running shoes until early this year.
Now I’m out between 2 and 3 times a week in them. I still hate the pink but I am loving the journey they are taking me on. I have had a variety of times in them, ranging from the truly lung-busting to (occasionally) the truly sublime. The latter happens more and more often.
I have 3 weeks left here in Essex. Soon they will be getting a regular soaking in the hills of Scotland. They won’t last forever, and while they may be pink, I will be sad when they need replacing.
On another note, I’ve had a stonker of a cold this week, and sadly missed out on my first open water swim on Wednesday night. I can’t say I’m particularly looking forward to swimming in the brown water of Clacton-on-Sea, but the following did give me some hope…. Unexpected playmate