I've been musing on the concept of exercise lately

This is because I've somehow wound up taking up running.  Thanks to the wonder that is Zombies, Run! I've been working my way through a couch-to-5k program and surprising myself with the results.  Not just in terms of how much further I'm now capable of running after five weeks of training, but also in terms of the fact that I'm five weeks in and still interested in continuing.

I'm not a sporty person.  I lack co-ordination and grace, I'm suspicious of the kind of enthusiasm implied by physical activity, and I was raised to favour intellectual achievements over sporting ones.  And it's only now, having somehow fallen into going for a run, that I realise how far my education fed into my prejudices rather than encouraging me out of them.

Like I said, I'm not co-ordinated.  Nor am I built for speed.  There was no way I was ever going be a natural athlete, no way I could be top of the class at PE in the way that I was top of most other classes.  Where I think PE lessons failed me is in never giving me a way of seeing any kind of improvement.  Regardless of the sport we were doing, I was flailing around at the back somewhere.  Sometimes I wasn't even entirely certain what the rules were, or what I was supposed to be doing.  And because we never seemed to do much in the way of organised training, I could only measure myself by comparison to other people.  And I was always, always down at the bottom.

Now I'm running.  I'm running alone, after dark so no one can see how awkwardly I run, how red my face is or how often I have to stop and walk for a bit.  There's no one to measure myself against, except me.  I may never trouble Mo Farah, but I could leave me from three weeks ago for dust.  That lardarse could hardly run for thirty seconds without gasping for breath.  The difference really is remarkable.  There's only three weeks left in the training scheme, but suddenly that 5k is looking reachable.

I'm not expecting to win any races.  I'm not even expecting to take part in any races (although this one always looks oddly fun - who doesn't want a free fish?).  Mostly I just want to be able to run for the bus without almost dying.  For years I thought that was, if not impossible, then certainly something that would take a lot of effort with no real enjoyment.  I'm still trying to get my head around the idea that it might actually be fun, but there does seem to be something quite satisfying about pounding along the pavement with heavy metal in my ears and zombies on my tail.

And of course, there's something even more satisfying about getting back home and into a nice hot shower afterwards...