A few weeks ago I decided it was time to suck it up, put on my post-pregnancy parachute panties and dig out my runners. I was dreading it! No one likes doing something they suck at, and there was no denying that after a year long hiatus with my running shoes, I would most definitely suck! But I wanted my regular panties back, not the ones that were big enough to cover the hole in the ozone layer; so run I must.
It wasn’t always this way. Four years ago, I would never have called myself a runner. I could huff and puff my way through the odd 5k fun-run but a runner, I was not.
Then we moved to Paris in 2010, and after leaving my family and friends, quitting my job and landing on a new continent, I felt I needed something to keep me busy, challenge me and clear my head.
Running became my friend in a country where I didn’t yet have any friends that spoke my language.
