This is the culprit*. Well, okay, perhaps not this particular individual, but one of her pouchy pals, certainly. Possums are bigger than cats and – I never thought I’d hear myself say this – they have even less shame than cats. The pesky varmints aren’t even bothered by water, so lying in wait for them with a spray gun isn’t going to deter the little blighters.
Do you ever have the feeling that something is wrong, although you can’t quite put your finger on what, exactly? I have a sense of vague foreboding. Not at all sure why.
Two friends of mine ran the City to Surf on Sunday and both did extremely well. I ran it last year and thought I did okay, but now I know their times – especially the girls’ time – I’m beginning to wonder if I was actually running it backwards or only using one leg.
Okay, so I hadn’t run at all in about 3 weeks (which is why I pulled out and didn’t run on Sunday, no point in killing oneself just to reach Bondi afterall), but even when I was regularly running 3 or 4 times a week I could never go very fast without having to stop to catch my breath.
Maybe its my funny heart? It skips beats and thumps and jumps oddly, even when I’m not running. And it races along at 190 bpm when I run – again, even when by rights I should be reasonably fit because I’m running frequently. But then my resting heart rate is apparently very slow.
I’m a freak.
Or maybe I just don’t push myself hard enough and consequently never really get fit.
I’d like to join some kind of beginners running group, but I can’t afford it at the moment. Maybe I should get my heart checked, too, just in case this isn’t just a lame excuse.
* Thanks to petrichor on Flickr for the photo!