This week, I decided to start running, three times a week, round the block. I put a little reminder into my calendar for three days a week, starting now, until the year 2016.
 
This is nothing serious, as I’m about as likely to turn into CrossfitCath as I am to win the lottery, twice, while wearing a duck outfit. But it has been a bit of a surprise to me.

There’s no weird compulsion behind this. There was no staring in the mirror, wondering why my thighs are wide, or pondering my protruding belly.

There was no weird self-flagellation or banning of cake in the house. I love my body, and I have no desire to change it. But I do want to be a little stronger.

This is not some weird revelation for me though. It came out of a desire to just have ten minutes to myself in the day. I realised, in conversation with my long-suffering boyfriend a few weeks ago, that it’s the most common complaint to come out of my mouth.

He must be so sick and tired of hearing it by now, that I sometimes wonder how he hasn’t started implementing the eyeroll every time I say it.

No, I haven’t read a book and found “The Secret”. Nor have I attended some very expensive seminar that told me I could be the best at whatever I did, if I just listened to this set of tapes twelve times a day.

Anyway, I digress. I don’t think my little traipse around the block is gearing me up for a half-marathon. But it is getting me out of my head for a little bit every morning, so I can start the day properly.

You see, before, I’d erupt from bed and motor myself directly to my computer, determined to burrow through work and get a head start on the day.

I’d do this whilst directing my kid off to school, boyfriend off to work and – honestly - it just didn’t work for me anymore. I’ve ended up waking up, and immediately thinking about work.

Starting the day with that kind of pressure was not doing me any good.

It really wasn’t. I noticed myself resenting everyone around me, because I just wanted ten minutes to myself in a day, where I wasn’t “Cath-I-need-this-by-5pm” or “Mom-do-you-know-how-to-spell-giraffe-and-when-is-dinner?”.

I am, by nature, a sedentary girl who is more inclined to be behind a monitor than on a treadmill. I constantly excused myself from doing any exercise because “oh who has the time?” I ran out of that mental excuse when I timed myself whilst browsing 9GAG the other night. I so have the time.

My morning run-jog-oh-shit-I’m-dying-okay-I’m-home takes me ten minutes. That’s all. And that’s all I want it to be. I don’t want to compete, I don’t want to win anything. I just want those ten minutes to myself.

And I think I finally found them.

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