Friday, 13 January 2012
I looked alive this morning, and brought myself back to basics on walking, including bright and early starts. I harkened fondly back to out "early" walks, 10am and the like, and was up and at'em at 8.30 today, feverish to compensate for yesterday, and get myself back on the right track. Dad and Ed weren't even awake yet, never mind walking. A few days ago I described the joys of the afternoon rush hour (doom in double buggy form) and this morning was about to experience the morning version. The hustle and bustle hit me as soon as I stomped out of the end of our street, there were cars busses and people everywhere, but this was a different kind of busy. Gone were the Mums with their kids meandering around the pavements (and I do mean meandering, I refuse to believe that it is impossible to keep a buggy moving in a straight line, yet these people manage to make them weave and wobble everywhere; they should have their own lanes in the road or something, they could only be a hinderance to each other there!) there weren't even many exotic birds of jogging, the streets were teeming with commuters, rushing to Canary Wharf in smart suits, with work shoes shoved into their bags and trainers on their feet for better command of the terrain. The atmosphere of industry was tangible and I honestly thought I could smell success in the air. Invigorated by the energy I dived in and set off, arms and legs flailing furiously and a curious phenomena arose; as I marched up behind the first commuter (tall man, dark grey suit) he turned his head, probably alerted to my presence from my aura of "I'm putting the power in power walk today" rather than my loud panting and the slap of my feet on the pavement (I've had a few days off and had gotten all excited this morning and set off rather quicker than I could handle I think, usually I'm as sleek and silent as a power walking panther you understand) and seeing that he was in range of being overtaken upped his pace. Seeing this as a gauntlet being thrown down I too upped my pace, slap-slap-slapping my way nearer and nearer until we were neck and neck, I saw sweat appearing on his brow before I put on a final surge and shot past him, Yes! Eat my dust! I thought, triumph coursing through me. There was no time to savour the moment though, as another commuter was drawing in (woman, brunette, blue suit this time) I made short work of her and in this way rocketed round the route in a series of mini races. This method while speedy, is exhausting. As well as being an emotional rollercoaster (thinking "Will I pass him before he turns into his building or won't I, will I? won't I?! DID IT!") I had been increasing my pace to practically the speed of light, and made it home in 48 minutes, a sweat drenched mess. As the adrenaline wears off I'll probably have a breakdown later today, or you'll find me racing randoms in the street at any opportunity, trying to get abck the buzz. However should I descend from respiratory problems to rehab I'll keep you posted.