I planned to go out for another three miler at 6.30, but Rod was held up at work and as I sat waiting in my kit the snow began falling and the beer began calling (Innes and Gunn Rum Cask).
With a will of steel I resisted – and at 7.30pm I opened the front door to the Arctic chill and set off.
“You wanna be starting something?” I was surprised to hear Michael Jackson singing in my ears, but it got me to the top of the hill. By this point the freezing air was burning my lungs and every time I swallowed I tasted metal. I was flagging, I was soaking, it was dark, the short cut home was coming up…. And then, of all people, Pitbull started his nonsense. “What the hell?” I actually said out loud and then remembered, this was the song I’d used to teach the Spanish subjunctive.
“Qué no pare la fiesta” – Don’t stop the party – in which the verb parar, to stop, is used in a sense of wishing, so it takes the subjunctive ending in the third person.
I missed the short cut while thinking in Spanish and carried on towards the steps. On a whim I turned down them and ran up and down three times. Don’t believe me? Watch the video
I walked for a minute then ran fast all the way home.
Twenty minutes of exercise but man did I feel it.