Tomorrow I have a date. Not with my husband. Being the sweet man he is though, he has given me his blessing to go on this date. In preparation for said date I have groomed myself appropriately. I have clothes freshly laundered and laid out in anticipation of my date.
One downside is that I won't be wearing make-up. My date will have to accept me as I am, dark circles under eyes and all.
Every time I think about the impending date (which is alot) I get very nervous.
Did I mention my date is with a Handsome Man? (who from now on will be referred to as HM) And he (legend has it) has a wonderful, ahem, physique.
But his looks mean nothing to me. No, really, they don't.
I want something from this man. Something that Husband can't give me.
Yes.
You guessed right.
I am starting group training with some other lovely ladies under the supervision of HM for my half marathon later this year. Whilst training for myself and Husband is going well and we are both motivating and pushing each other to do better, I've hit a hurdle.
I can't go fast.
I can run quite a long way. 12 km was my most recent distance. But being built for comfort rather than speed I can't up my pace.
And so, a sweet friend told me the secret.
HM.
He apparently trains women JUST LIKE ME.
And they end up winning marathons apparently.
Now I have absolutely no intention of a) running a full marathon b) winning anything.
But I would like to finish the forthcoming fun-run and half marathon later this year, before the organisers have reopened the streets to traffic, or I've endured the shame of DNF being printed in our local paper.
So tomorrow my sympathetic parents are minding Mr Small and I am going on a date with HM.
It won't be romantic at all.
But I am promised an increased heart-rate while on my date, and lots of rushing adrenalin. Which is almost as exciting.
But not as exciting as the possibility of kicking my husband's proverbial in the half marathon in August.
I haven't told him that bit though.