Why did I think it was a good idea to do one half marathon every Sunday in March?

I am drastically underprepared, owing to that horrible cold at the beginning of February. I think it’s going to be a disaster. And a slow one at that (the weather forecast is not exactly favourable for tomorrow. Wind. Rain. Yuck.)

Moan whinge worry. And all of this is voluntary. I wonder about my sanity. Sometimes. 


It has been a full weekend

I’ve run both days (10 miles Saturday, 2 miles today) in panicked preparation for Molto March Mezzo Marathon Madness. I don’t feel quite half marathon ready, but I will get round.

Here I am after my mid week run.


I have done seven loads of laundry. The supermarket shop. Changed the sheets (always an epic undertaking as the mattress is so heavy). Sorted the guidemin. Sorted a lot of Brownie uniform to work out what’s saleable and what’s not. Worked out how to mend the toadstool. Made chilli and soup.

It’s Thinking Day, so we shared badge tab photos. I need a third boob, really, to wear all of mine at once.


I have helped shift stuff to and from the division stores. Prepared for thinking day. Done the supermarket shop. Read most of the paper and concluded that I have busy woman syndrome.

And, as a direct result of that assertion, plonked myself on the sofa for a couple of hours to watch Carry On Nurse and knit. Probable worthwhile. The week was full… Meeting leaders, going to GOSH, moving brownies clobber, running 8 miles in sheer panic about the half marathons, catching up on laundry and going to yoga with Mary Portas (her hair is vibrant). I didn’t say hello. I merely concluded that my yoga studio really does have famous people there. I never really believed them until that point.

Here. Have a knitting photo.



Here is a picture

Here is a picture of a wind chilled woman. Who has finally conquered a red run for the first time in 8 years. Who on her first attempt down it panicked and fell over, and had to be picked up by her instructor. Who then went up, later on in the day, on her tod, as the light began to fade, and skied down in control, without crossing her skis, or falling over, or bursting into tears.

Here is a woman who took great pleasure in screaming at the top of her lungs “Up yours [The Anthropologist]!” while she skied and enjoyed herself and unblocked a pretty enormous mental block.




Today I went wheee with more control

Also, I sang a lot. Scooting down the hill going through most of the Bond songs I can remember. Makes for a more relaxing ride.

We also started a game of “hunt the lemon”. But we didn’t get very far.

Then the weather turned nasty and started throwing snow at us. Icy stingy nastiness so we stopped and bought hot chocolate. Much more civilised.

We are pondering the next trip. But first I’m going to ski down to my lesson tomorrow morning. Turns out my instructor skis on the Freestyle Moguls team for GB. There’s a nice picture of him upside down on his website (bless, he doesn’t seem to have updated it since he was 17…so about 5 years ago! I thought I was nearly old enough to be his Mum…).

Here. Have some lemon photos.







Today I went wheeeeee!

Just as the sun was setting, the nursery slope was entirely free of small children and tentative adults. So I went down as fast as I could and I shrieked aloud.

More photos?

Why not. The haul of goodies came from the supermarket last night. I got sock yarn in the supermarket.

N is gently zizzing next to me. And vaguely waking up when National Geographic channel tells us something interesting. Like how to crack a safe.









We are in the snow

I have decided that Skiing is quite fun and all previous panics and worries about it are entirely due to the bombastic teaching style of the Antropologist.

Here. Have a panorama if I can make it work.