Being active is important to me because being healthy is important to me.
A walk in the afternoon, karate once a week, yoga when I'm feeling motivated (strictly lounge room yoga). Just recently, about three times a week I have started going for a run before I settle in to my studio to paint.
As a child I could run and run and run and run. As an adult, with a post child-bearing soon to be 30-something body, I can run in an emergency. I can run 50 metres flat out if pushed. I can run to stop a child walking out in front of a speeding car. But running for myself? For my health, fitness and enjoyment?
Hmm. Radical idea. (crazy)
Running is on my list, though.
That list of things I'd like to do and just don't. Along with selling paintings and having a website. If I can do those scary things - and I am doing them - then surely I can run a little bit?
The aim is to be able to run one kilometre non-stop. Not flat out, not a sprint. Just at a nice steady pace.
The first time I went out, cockily remembering running when I was 10 years old, I was astounded that I was ready to collapse on the side of the road after 75 metres and let the crows feed from my dying carcass. Down heartened, the rest of the circuit was an exercise in frantic deep breathing. It was obvious I needed some help. I needed a personal trainer.
I could have hired a professional, but lets face it - I don't want pay to go running with some super-fit "motivator" who was the guard at a prison camp in their last life.
And so I looked closer to home.
Unfortunately my dogs are not really runners. One is too old, and one is too BIG - so big that when he runs his technique is that of a hurdler with a pair of flippers on. I could have given up, but luckily I am a firm believer that for every problem there is a solution.
Affectionately known in the family as the "Polony", one of the Mower Men and the cutest tiny horse ever (in fact Fidget is a miniature horse), Fidget is the perfect answer. He runs very well - better than me, actually.
He loves to run. It is an important part of his day. A day with out a gallop round the paddock is a day wasted, in Fidget's humble opinion. And he is a brilliant motivator.
Put together a very small pony who's head is level with my buttocks and a keen desire to keep the herd moving and you have a personal trainer who doesn't talk too much, doesn't judge my body (it's so vastly inadequate for running compared to his that why on earth would he bother?) and gives me a well aimed nip on the backside when ever the motivation to move starts to leave me, and he works for carrots. . . What more could one ask for in a PT?