It's very snowy today - the back garden looks like a winter wonderland and in spite of being on a get fitter to improve my general health kick (it started last July and is paying dividends) I've decided to wuss out of walking down the hill to the gym this evening. It's too cold and slippy plus I have cleaned the house from top to bottom today (a proper clean as opposed to a quick wipe round with one of those disinfectant wipes) and tackled and completed the ironing mountain. So it's not like I've been sat on my arse all day. Though I have been sat on it for some of it.
I do feel a bit guilty though for wussing out of the gym though - even though I have lots of walking planned for the rest of the week, it's the same when I read a book at home. I ADORE reading, it's one of my favourite things to do but I still feel naughty doing it at home during the day - on the bus or the train, waiting for a chum to turn up whilst sitting in a cafe or waiting for an appointment is okay. I feel no guilt then - if anything a little smug as I am doing something productive with my time but at home when there's other things I could be doing - like sorting out the kitchen cupboards or sorting out the spare room (in spite of two bin bags of books being taken to Poverty Aid the other week but the room looks as depressingly cluttered as ever) but most of all it's the feeling that I should be 'outside'.
My grandparents had a real thing about 'outside' and 'getting fresh air' - something which unless it was raining (I grew up in South Manchester so thankfully this was often) you should be doing rather than sitting inside with either the television on or reading a book. 'You should be out there getting fresh air' was my Nana's constant refrain whenever she saw me with my head in a book. Unless it was raining and then there was still stuff you could be doing like tidying up....
And that has kind of stuck with me - I can read voraciously and without guilt on holiday but the only time I don't have a vague sense of guilt reading at home is either in the bath (carefully - obviously and not with too precious a book either in case it takes a dip - Jackie Collins are especially good for this) or just before going to sleep. Any other time - unless it's a Saturday afternoon and throwing it down I still feel I should be outside doing something else.....
I don't feel the same sense of unease knitting though - but then most of the things I am knitting are for someone else (currently working on a selection of knitted fruit for my Mum, the orange is a bastard to do so she is only getting one of those and a clementine instead) but I think I would if it was something just for me.
But back to the gym (which fingers crossed I will be by the end of the week anyway..) I had a fitness test last week and I ran a mile in 12 minutes and 29 seconds, not record breaking but it is a big achievement for me as last July I couldn't have run for more than 30 seconds at a time and when I take the test again in a few weeks I hope to be a bit quicker again. I feel loads better for it so I have no intention of wussing out on it long term and I might just read a bit more of my book before I watch Miranda later.
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