I live in the centre of town, about 30 second´s walk from the park, which follows the river as it winds through the town, where you often see people jogging past wearing florescent tops and shorts. And now I am one of those people.
As a keep-fit strategy, jogging has many advantages: it’s cheap, you can do it at any time of day, you don’t need any special kit (well, not quite true-some good running shoes are essential) and it gets you out in the open air. The disadvantages are that when you start out and if you are not fit, and you are lurching wheezing purple-faced wreck, the general public can see you, and point and laugh. And the open-air is often cold and wet.
I don’t much enjoy the running, but I enjoy the way I feel when I have finished, when I have had a nice hot shower, and the muscles are throbbing in a pleasant way. It makes the fifteen minute slog through the horizontal drizzle worthwhile.
So why did I start running? Because I was getting fat (getting on for twelve stone at one point, when I’d normally weigh ten and a half) and just getting generally run down and feeling like crap. And I was approaching forty, so I thought I’d better do something now before it was too late. And I was fed up of having to buy new jeans as my waistline expanded.
I’m glad I started running, it’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever taken up, along with reading and playing a musical instrument.
What? Why Bother? 