Tag Archives: Nike

Whirlwind

I’ve walked like I was shot in the arse today, it’s not a great look let me tell you.

race for life 2013

race for life 2013

It has been a jam-packed few weeks and I’ve absolutely loved having some of my nearest and dearest around more often, especially while Geordie is away. I’ve travelled down to Devon and Cornwall (fell in love with Bideford fish and chips and Padstow beach) and back up again to Whitby (I’m still too terrified to go back into the Dracula experience). I’ve been to watch moto gp track training, I’ve sewn ball gowns and of course I have eaten way too much cake to even think about losing any weight for ‘Summer’ (whatever that is?) I’ve shared the momentous occasion that was Baby Isaac’s Christening (you remember my cake eating partner in crime Rachel…well her son Isaac, who will also grow to adore cake) which was a 9.5 hour bouncy castle-fest. The sun shone for the gorgeous little one on his special day and a good time was had by all.

Yesterday I ran the Race For Life 5k in memory of my lovely friend Rebecca, support of my wonderful school friend Emma and in hope for a healthy future for Fraja and my own two beautiful little girls. My mind was set on taking off and sprinting the course, Paula Radcliffe style, while my ever supportive running partner Danielle had a more realistic approach and pondered whether to carry her phone to take a picture for if/when I fell over! I had so much fun doing comedy power lunges and moshing during the warm up, as we made the most of being child free for an hour or so. We made a point of high-fiving a bunch of kids and a few marshals which ultimately lost us valuable seconds at the finish and has cost me the use of my legs for the last 24 hours. Unfortunately the sun was blazing at the start (that’s my official excuse) and I limped around in 31:02, greeted at the finish line by my eldest with these pride filled words…… ‘Aww Mum I thought you were gonna win it?’

Lessons I have learned in the last few weeks are as follows;

Always do the warm up and take it seriously instead of taking self portraits impersonating Sonja-from-Eastenders’ fitness dvd.

Do not get a stomach bug the morning of the six-hour car journey home from Devon….

Always have nappy bags in the car (for vomiting into) should the above situation arise.

Mini Pizzas are the best sustenance at a Christening…..all 9.5 hours of it…just keep eating and you will not get drunk….much.

And above all else, surround yourself with lovely people who make you laugh so much your stomach hurts, eat cake and be happy. Life is too short.

 

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Work It Baby

In light of my fitness epiphany yesterday I had a quick look through my wardrobe to find the remains of my sportswear. Co-ordination is still a key issue for me, despite the fact that I am going to sweat profusely and resemble a tomato by the end of the session. Ordinarily I stick to my faithful Adidas three-quarter length leggings, Nike sports bra and one of Geordie’s hundreds of long sleeve running tops. There is a bit of a monochrome theme going on, excluding my black and purple Nike Air Alvod 9, and I feel comfortable having tight-fitting pants but a loose top to run in. Geordie however runs like a tramp, not physically but in the complete lack of any style whatsoever. The last time we ran Sefton Park in Liverpool he started a full-scale row as I refused to go out of the house with him, he was wearing light blue TWO stripe shorts that don’t even belong to him, odd socks that I’m assured were white at some point in the past, a half-marathon finisher’s t-shirt (very commendable) and a pink Nike drinks bottle. In hindsight I suppose I could have used this horrific crime to fashion/sportswear as inspiration to run like hell and distance myself from him, but I couldn’t get as far as the front door in case someone saw me with him. Eventually he relented and changed the shorts!

Call on Me (Eric Prydz song)

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have willingly been to various aerobics, zumba and boxercise classes and spent more time comparing myself to others, feeling like a frumpy idiot than concentrating on the end goal. I have had to endure women my age in neon green leggings and leopard print leotards with matching hair band, pretty sure it wasn’t the video shoot for Eric Prydz Call On Me and it definitely was the local leisure centre class run by an elderly but super-fit lady. One of the hardest parts of getting back into public exercise for me is feeling confident enough in my work out clothes to go out in the first place. I’ve been guilty in the past of slagging off those gorgeous skinny mini’s who make running 10k look like a skip around Tesco and those who had achieved the mecca of female fitness, definition not muscles, think Michelle Obama‘s arms! Where as now I can fully appreciate that it’s not done over night, there really isn’t any quick fix and in the words of the late, great Roy Castle, dedication is what you need. If I see anyone out running/jogging now my first thought is always ‘Good on you’ because they’re already doing a damn sight more than me, regardless of what they are wearing.

I have dusted off my Adidas THREE stripe and have blanketed Twitter, Ebay and GumTree looking for a child bike seat in preparation for the 5X50 Challenge, if I’m getting fit my kids are coming along for the ride.

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Forever Young

All my life I’ve been 9 years and 5 months older than my sister which has never been more grieving than now as I am rapidly approaching 30. I met her in town the other day for coffee and was taken aback by how trendy she looked. Now don’t get me wrong, she’s a gorgeous looking girl, had more hair colours than I’ve had jobs and looks good in a bin bag. But, never has she shown such a passion for all things bang on trend. I was……don’t tell her…..Jealous!

When I was a teenager and she was still getting excited about Pokémon and light-up scooters I used to take her to town with me shopping pretty much every Saturday, which I like to tell myself is where her current burst of enthusiasm for Topshop originated. However I’m pretty sure its got more to do with being at uni and having control of her own money. I used to make my little sister model my textile creations during my time at college, she spent many an afternoon standing on my mum’s dining room chairs while I pinned, nipped and tucked at couture creations. She spent most of the time whining because I would accidentally stick her with my inexperienced tailoring. That’s not the worst of it, I would let her put her hands on the sun beds while I tanned, I got brushes stuck in her hair trying to volumise it and made her leaflet the local neighbourhood with me so I could afford a new Kookai dress for a night out. She was like a sponge, taking it all in, scouring through magazines with me and my school friends. She probably should have been more concerned with the adventures of Scooby Doo, but was instead forming opinions on Daphne’s purple and green dress combo.

The biggest mistake I made at this time was to fall into debt. My obsession with all things on trend lead to a store card, which led to a credit card, and wearing an outfit once and once only. We’re talking ten years ago here so I wasn’t paying Primark prices. The only thing I ever saved up for was a pair of Vivienne Westwood pirate boots, I wore them once and sold them on Ebay for a quarter of the price. I would think nothing of spending a couple of hundred quid on clothes that would probably never see the light of day. As long as the minimum payments were manageable then…yeah I will have that Karen Millen dress thank you very much.

Whilst I would never attempt to take real credit for my little sister becoming a fashionista, I’d like to think there is a bit of a legacy there. She has definitely learned from my mistakes and hasn’t fallen into debt for the sake of a pair of sandals or maxi dress. I’m sure she’ll buy the odd item, wear it once and bin it, but if she’s not paying for it in ten years time like I am, then the legacy lives on. I’m just taking a little longer than expected to get my head around borrowing clothes from her and not the other way around. Not sure I can still get away with Nike high-tops and a Back to the Future T-shirt?

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One of my favourite memories of us growing up together is of buying a Posh Spice (Victoria Beckham for those who are post-Spice Girls) inspired little black dress, which now I think about it was actually dark blue and made from hideous fabric. It was a fashion no-no, boobs and legs dress and it barely covered either. I stuck it on, threw back the curtain and invited her critique. With wisdom far beyond her 9 years and 5 tender months her words were….

‘Mum’s going to kill you’

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