I have started running.
Be calm, this is not a sign of impending doom, the moon has not turned to blood and to the best of my knowledge no two-headed cows have been born the past week. Stock markets won’t dip and no-one will run into the streets rending the clothes from their bodies while shouting their protestations to the heavens but for me it’s a pretty big deal. I don’t really do physical exercise. I’m a pasty little English nerd not so much picked last for school football teams but the subject of arguments over who had to be saddled with me. I’m the last person you would expect to voluntarily sweat in the name of trying to be healthy and I have always been particularly adverse to running. I have some pretty solid reasons I feel (it’s undignified, I’d look stupid, don’t have the energy, in that order) but they all seem to cower before the main argument for exercise. The ever-growing and unavoidable fear of getting old.