Smugness comes before a fall. Every time. I really should have learned that life-lesson by now. It never ends well when I start getting smug about anything at all. As soon as I do, life smirks to itself and throws a slippery banana skin in my path.
Anyway, I mention this now because of running. Since I wrote months ago about how much I dislike running, I’ve been doggedly forcing myself out of the door to run at least 2ΒΌ miles, four times every week. Yes that quarter matters thank you very much, in the same way that the quarter matters to a small child when they say, “I’m 6ΒΌ years old.”
I still dislike running. It still hurts. But I grudgingly admit that it’s brought health/energy benefits and I’m definitely getting faster. I can even run up hills without concerned bystanders offering to phone the paramedics. Result!
Can you see the teeniest bit of smugdom beginning to creep in? Really it shouldn’t, because I’m not all that. When there are no other people in sight, I’ve been known to pause and cling to a lamp-post, cursing and wheezing heavily, only to set off again as though nothing is wrong as soon as I hear a car coming round the corner. And just in case you’re imagining some vision of designer lycra speeding past, my running kit includes baggy grey tracksuit trousers of such perfect hideousness that the Stoic Spouse has banned them from the house. His stoicism goes a long way, but not as far as ugly sportswear.
So on Sunday, I went for my usual run. I was thinking about the blog and about y’all as I ran, and mentally composing a post about how this ridiculously mild winter is making nature go a bit bonkers.
This post was going to be erudite. It was going to be fascinating. And I am not at all delusional.
I mean, look! There are daffodils in early January!
By the way, you can probably already see the photography deteriorating as this post progresses. I’m a shaky camera-holder at the best of times, and mid-run is not the best of times. You may wish to cling on to something solid whilst you view the rest of this post, to avoid yourself from feeling seasick.
Anyway, unseasonal daffodils! It’s an abomination! What’s going to happen to them at Easter when they should be flowering? And what’ll happen to all the bloggers who are waiting to write posts about all the lovely spring flowers?
Yes yes, I’m getting to the bit where I make an idiot of myself, honest. Gotta set the scene, my friend, gotta set the scene.
So… it was unseasonably, unreasonably, unfeasibly mild, and if you’re in the UK then you’ll know that it’s been raining a lot (enough to flood people’s homes in the north, unfortunately). It’s not reached an apocalyptic scale here down south, but it is a trifle soggy underfoot.
Despite all this, I was having a pretty good run. (See? Smug.) So I decided to add in a detour up to the allotment so that I could show you its progress. At which point I met the biggest of all puddles, the mother of all water accumulations, the emperor of all soggy toddler-magnets. (Free parenting tip from TTY: Want your toddler to come back from wherever they’re currently trying to run off to? Pour some water on the ground and call it a puddle. They won’t be able to resist. You’re welcome.) Anyway this puddle was like the nearest one in the photo above, but worse. There was no space down either side. I was wearing running shoes, not wellies, and thus could not just cheerfully splash through it, although with hindsight that’s exactly what I should have done. Ah hindsight, my old friend: I do wish that you wouldn’t always show up so late.
The obvious solution, I reasoned, was to sort of sidestep along the narrow edge of the lake puddle, hanging from the branches above and trying to ignore the brambles that were clawing at my clothes. What could possibly go wrong?
Anyway, it all went fine.
Oh wait, no: that was just my fantasy. It didn’t go fine at all.
So there I was, swinging from tree to tree like a drunken monkey. No matter that a family of dog-walkers appeared at that moment. No matter that they got to stride through the puddle in their comfy wellies whilst I grinned manically at them from the bushes as though this was totally normal behaviour. Do you know, they looked at me almost as though I was being odd.
You can probably anticipate where this is going, can’t you? It’s going downwards. Because when you’re hanging from a tree, the only way is down. Rapidly. But hey, at least I had a soft landing. In the puddle. Which turned out to be surprisingly deep. And cold. And wet. And humiliating. Who’d have thought? And no I don’t have a photo of this happy event.
The family of dog-walkers must be credited for their heroic attempt not to laugh. Note, I merely say attempt. I swear that even the dog was sniggering. You can’t really blame them. I did land rather spectacularly splashily on all fours in muddy water at their feet. In their shoes (sorry, waterproof, fur-lined wellies), I’d have struggled to stifle a titter, too.
“Are you OK?” one of them asked.
This was when, with my dignity lost in the water around my feet, I resorted to extreme Englishness as a strategy and apologised, just in case I’d inadvertently splashed any of them, and asked if they were OK. Jeez, I couldn’t have been any more of a national stereotype if I’d worn a bowler hat and offered them tea.Β Still, it’s not as bad as the time I was polite(ish) to the scumbag who unsuccessfully attempted to mug me. “I say dear chap, do please refrain from stealing my handbag.” OK I’m paraphrasing – those weren’t my exact words.
Anyway, once again life has slapped me round the face with a wet haddock and reminded me, Don’t bother getting smug.
So I hope you’ll understand if the photo of our broad beans and onions at the allotment is unlikely to win any artistic awards, OK? It was the best I could do in the circumstances.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve earned some knitting-time.
Loved reading this! x
Thank you. (It was quite fun to write, too.)
hahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa, sorry I am sitting here in my lovely warm house just gwaffing at you! I can so picture, your words speak volumes my dear. Hope you are suitable dried out and had a refreshing sip or two of the red and enjoying your knitting x
Well I’ve NEARLY dried out, but it’s only been a week or so since it happened, so it’s early days. π
Well, yes, I did actually have a chuckle at your expense. Thanks. π At least you’re out there doing your best. I’m lucky to get 10 minutes of yoga in.
Glad I raised a smile. I’m impressed at your yoga, by the way.
poor thing, (and yes, I’m sniggering, just like the dog). I’ve been there. I am so Irish(okay, American of Irish and German descent, likely), that I once picked a fight with the sidewalk and lost a portion of a tooth. I was even trying to be generous on the walk with the dogs I confused. And once, while wandering along the shores of Lake Michigan, stepping out onto wet rocks to get better photos of a light house too far in the distance for my poor camera, I met the bottom of the lake very quickly. Fortunately, it was not so deep there and no one was directly in the area to witness. I was also lucky enough to have a change of clothes. I believe the camera did an odd imitation of this scene in which it caught the bottom of my bag hitting water;-). We’ve all been there. Tonight, I’m going to safely knit and later complain about knit 1, purl 1 repeats;-).
Oh dear. π But as you say, we’ve all been there. π Hope you stayed safe with your knitting. And thank you for sharing your stories.
I bet you had a nice hot bath when you got home, eh!
Oh yes indeed. π
You definitely earned knitting time!! What a great post – not that you got wet but in how you took us through the story.
Thank you. And I confess that whilst this was happening, there was a tiny bit of me thinking, “Well at least this is good blog-fodder.”
I told you nothing good ever came out of running. Not sure if I have told you about my cycling shame. I was once lured into cycling for fitness. My brother gave me his special lycra and spandex gear (as he was no longer stupid enough to wear it) and more importantly (apparently) his “clips”. Clips are a way that you no longer have to rely on keeping your feet on the pedals as they are welded to the pedal by a clip thingo on your shoe (forgive me for not knowing the name, my history with clips was painfully short as you will find out if you keep reading). I thought I was the bees knees cycling my 40km a day in my spandex and thumbing my nose at the fuel guzzling trucks looming past me on my rides. Turns out karma was storing up a real good life lesson for me. I arrived back in town after a particularly long bike ride and turned to ride past the park to go home and realised that the park was FULL of scruffy, tattooed and most scary bikers. I decided to get off my bike and walk past them so as not to attract attention. I would sneak past them without them even noticing me and then scuttle back home. Alas, I had engaged the idea prior to engaging my brain and I completely forgot about the clips and my feet no longer being the boss of the pedals. I went to remove my foot from the pedal and it didn’t move. I then went to put my other foot on the ground to stop the bike from falling over and it, too, stayed on the pedals. As you can imagine, both feet on pedals and leaning over, isn’t the most dignified way for a 30 something woman to be listing near a park full (a bloody rally no less!) of scruffy bikers. I fell over sideways. They all looked. They all started roaring with laughter. It took me a good 5 minutes (that felt like 4 hours) to unclip my turtlesque feet from the clips, clack my way to pick up the bike and with all the dignity I could manage hiding under the heartiest blush I had managed for years, I “took myself away home”. I discarded the clips as soon as I got home. The lycra went not long after. The bike riding went quite quickly after that. Fitness has knobs on Ms T!
OUCH on your behalf! By the way, the Yarnharlot.ca has written of similar accidents with clips. Exercise is rubbish. π
I walk the dog for just over an hour a day now and that is a tremendous mix of anaerobic and aerobic exercise. By the time I get home after a walk/drag with Earl, I KNOW that I have taken my body places that I don’t usually manipulate.
Sounds far more impressive than my puny runs.
I practically need therapy after each walk.
Oh, you poor love. No, no, I’m not laughing, really I’m not…..it’s just a little hiccup. Excuse me – have to dash. Can’t keep a straight face any longer……sorry…….
Are you SURE that’s not a smirk I can see on your face?? Because obviously it’s NOT FUNNY!! π
I’m extremely impressed that you continue to do something you don’t like, on a regular basis, and with such an ambitious schedule. I’m glad you’re reaping the health and wellness benefits, and hope you’ll look at this unfortunate incident with good humour.
Last month I fell over the top of my knee scooter, just a month after foot surgery. I landed on the sidewalk, foot in the air, then managed a reasonably graceful landing by rolling on my back to protect the bandaged foot. My husband exclaimed “what have you done now?” which should alert you to the fact that he’s picked me up off the ground on more than one occasion. He brushed the leaves out of my hair, and I thought it best to simply go back inside to continue healing from the privacy of my couch.
Onward.
Ouch, on your behalf. May 2016 be your year of no accidents whatsoever. (I have a similar friend. Every year or so, I get a phonecall from the local Accident and Emergency dept, asking me to pick her up after her latest broken bone…)
Meanwhile, I’ve been too distracted to even begin reading that book. Must get on with it.
Thank you for that. I will aspire to no accidents this year. I’m slow now because I have to be. I should continue in that vein. I sat next to a woman at PT yesterday, who is now recovering from knee surgery AND a broken hip. She was feeling better after the PT, went outside to water her plants wearing slippers, and slipped on the pavement. Two months later, she’s now rehabing that same knee and a broken hip.
As for your friend, she’s probably my sister from a different mother. I can relate.
As for the book perhaps wait till you have a bit less going on. It will be there on your shelf when you are ready. You’ve been dealing with a work trauma and that must take a lot of emotional energy to process. Be kind to yourself.
That poor woman at PT. Some people have horrible bad luck.
That was terrible luck. She had such a good spirit about her, though, that I’m sure that is helping her through.
It is a bit funny! Haha. Poor you! Haha ? . Once as a teenager I went on a walk with a new boyfriend through woods, over fields, nothing I wasn’t well used too. Only I was in shoes and not my usual wellies. We had to circumnavigate a very large puddle / boggle. I lost my balance and without thinking or remembering my non wellie status, plonked my foot down in the boggle to keep my balance! For some still unknown reason my resolution and perceived aplomb afterwards impressed new boyfriend!!!!
Fabulous! One of those moments when you just have to adopt an I-meant-to-do-that demeanour, which it sounds as though you achieved perfectly. Thank you for sharing the tale. π
I had to laugh and empathise at the same time. In my first year of teaching (wayyyyyy too long ago to disclose exactly when), I took a trip of bright eyed, bushy tailed treasures to the seaside. Who was the only person to fall in a rock pool? Yep, that would be me….. Funny thing was the kids were very sympathetic and very concerned for my welfare, but my colleagues were no help whatsoever for laughing….
And in those days I didn’t knit so it took me much longer to recover.
Oh dear. Of course that had to happen when you were surrounded by your students. If you’d been out for a pleasant walk alone, you’d have kept your balance perfectly. Sigh. I hope your dignity has recovered!
Ah yes, I have also encountered that puddle on the way to the allotments and very nearly took a bath (or perhaps a swim?) myself. I hope it was only your pride that took a bruising! π
It’s a beast of a puddle, isn’t it?! Glad you haven’t succumbed. And yes, it was only my pride that was injured.
Oh dear, oh dear, I am afraid I am laughing. Would the twinnage have laughed or jumped in with you in sympathy? If they had been present, that is.
The twinnage would have done both, I think, with great relish. Sigh.
I’ve just come across your blog & know I’m going to love it after this post, There were tears of laughter by the time I got to the end. I have had the misfortune of clinging to the side of a metal bridge when the path was icy to pull myself across & yes I did slip right at the very end xx
Thank you for your kind words, and welcome to the blog! (And OUCH to your own anecdote – hope you weren’t injured?)
Oh dear. Poor ol’ you. I always knew running was a Bad Idea – unless the bus/train is a lot nearer the relevant stop than I am. Going faster under your own steam is what bicycles are for.
Y’know, you have a great narrative style. Ever thought of writing a book, or even publishing a collection of your columns? You know, something to do now the Twinnage are off your hands for a few hours per day. Yes, I know, you had that marked down as knitting time!
I know: running is definitely A Very Bad Idea in very many ways. But at least you don’t get a sore bum, unlike with cycling!
And a sincere thank you for your kind words about my writing. Blogging is a lot of fun. I have my occasional column in Simply Knitting, but I’d love to move on to some more substantial knitting/humour writing. (Meanwhile I really must get round to sending off my non-humorous, non-knitting novel to agents/publishers.)
This is epic on a scale I could see myself achieving. +1 for having witnesses. I’m so glad you aren’t injured. From the very first sentence I was anxiously worried that you had, as that’s life’s fondest way of knocking me down a peg or two. I hope you had a glass of wine (or two) and a nice hot bath to soothe the bruised ego π
Thank you! And whilst obviously I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, I’m kinda glad I’m not the only one who does such foolish things. The only injury this time was to my dignity, although a broken limb might have healed more quickly…
I just know that if you lived beside me we’d be great friends. We have the same sense of humour. I haven’t fallen into a puddle in front of people but… I live on the Isle of Mull. I used to live in a house right beside the ferry car park. One day, when the car park was full because the ferry was due, and all the tourists were waiting and sight seeing from beside their cars, I decided to take my dog for a walk. Beside the car park is a little piece of waste land, with a boat slipway (for small boats) and a little bit of beach on either side. The dog was on his lead and he was in front of me, pulling as usual. We went onto the slipway and too late I discovered it was covered in black ice…. I gently began sliding down the ice towards the sea. There are no hand rails and absolutely nothing to grab on to. All I could think of was – I hope no-one is watching me. And being grateful that my house was immediately behind me because the only way I could rescue myself was to glide down into the sea and then step off the edge of the slipway onto the submerged beach and splosh my way back home trying to hide my face as I did so….
Yikes! Why do these things always happen at the worst possible moments? And thank you for such a kind comment. ‘Tis a pity we’re separated by many hundreds of miles and can’t compare humiliations in person. Sigh.
I knew I was in for a good laugh with your opening. The wrong shoes…can be problematic. But I’m glad you made it to the allotment–what gorgeous little beans you have–and in January!
Thank you on all counts. The broad beans are at rather an early stage, though. Dinner might be ready some time around April…
Just found your blog…what a good start , I’m still laughing! If it makes you feel any better I landed on my bottom yesterday on a nice rustic(muddy) walk….I had the whole family laughing at me! Hope you dried out quickly. I had to sit on a plastic bag on the way home in the car;( Barbara
Ouch! That sounds painful. I hope your body and your dignity have both recovered. Welcome to the blog. π
Oh my, Phil…I have not visited here in a long time, quite too long, you know…life and all…but it is just such a treat to read your “voice” which comes through so exquisitely and perhaps a bit painfully as I double over in laughter and wipe joyous tears from my eyes. You really truly have made my day with this ever so lovely account of a woman hearty enough to allow herself to be the subject of such laughter. I mean really…you are a writer every bit as excellent as you are a knitter. Thank you. Thank you for co to using to write your voice here about life, knitting, and the occasional hanging from tree branches!! Oi! Have a beautiful, on the ground, dry day!!
Gosh, thank you for such an incredibly generous comment. (Meanwhile I’m in awe of your artistic talent and skill.) This post was quite fun to write. And I confess that even as I was falling from the branch, a tiny bit of me was already thinking, “Well at least this’ll be good blog-fodder.” Sigh.
Um…that is supposed to read “continuing…” Not “co to using”…ergh.
π