Running Man

I think it was Einstein who said something about the definition of madness being doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. He may well have been talking about jogging. I’ve been doing it for months now, with the expectation of some improvement but I’m still just as rubbish as when I started.

Admittedly my warm-down has progressed from thrashing around on the floor like a beached porpoise and trying not to vomit to propping myself up against a wall and cursing heavily. The run itself, however, still consists of limping along with the sort of graceless movement that you might associate with a man who has just taken a cricket ball in the sensitives, while being drenched by rain, hail or snow.

Still, it must be doing me some good; so in the words of a wiser man than I, ‘jog on!’