Ooh a non-running related blogpost…(spoiler alert – it’s not really about mushrooms).

I really hate mushrooms as a food-type. They don’t bother me as part of biodiversity, I imagine they are useful for something – everything has its place. Mushrooms in food disgust me and I don’t really like to think of or see anyone eating mushrooms, it’s just gross to me. Maybe it shouldn’t be legal to put mushrooms in food.

What’s that? You love mushrooms and you think I’m out of order to want rid of them, it’s really none of my business what you eat and after all I don’t have to eat them?

Ah, but what if you keep putting mushrooms in food I order and try to convert me, or my (hypothetical) child sees you eating a big bowl of garlic mushrooms in a restaurant one night and wants to try them? So, you think they will either like them or not because that’s just how it is with foods like mushrooms?

I think you have a point actually. I don’t have to eat mushrooms and if you (or my hypothetical child) want to eat them it won’t cause the world to end or harm me, personally, in anyway. In fact, do you know what? Enjoy your mushrooms, I’m glad that you like them and they make you happy – watch out for the poisonous ones if you’re ever foraging, but otherwise have at it with your mushroom diet.

Mushrooms, marmite, tattoos, piercings, running (yes some people do tell us we shouldn’t do it and it’s bad for us!), equal marriage – whether you ‘like’ it or not, the fact that other people do will have absolutely no impact on you at all. It’s none of your business and it’s as inconsequential to you as whether I like mushrooms or not. Get it?

I’m celebrating equal marriage in England and Wales today, with Scotland soon to follow. Do you know what? It might actually affect me a wee bit – I might have a few more wonderful weddings to go to in the future! Let’s just start calling it marriage and not appending it with gay or equal, after all that’s what it is.

As an aside, I did a long run today and ended up ordering takeaway and guess what? Yep, my dinner had mushrooms in it; so I just didn’t eat them. I’m already over it.

Be happy, let others be happy and let us only concern ourselves with preventing actual harm instead of criminalising love.

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International Happiness Day

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International Happiness Day

Nothing is ever perfect but it’s international happiness day so I took a moment to reflect and all in all I really do have a great life. Scotland is such a beautiful place and I get to live here. I’m not fast but my legs work and I get to go running, which I love. Every run is a gift and not to be taken for granted, not everyone gets to run. I have great friends, not just my running friends although it is fantastic that all these lovely people are happy to run with me. I love my family, my boyfriend and his family – we all get on well, what a bonus. Let’s not forget my wee furry pal Brin either who is not only a marvellous and snuggly hot water bottle but a great running buddy too. It’s good to take stock and take a moment to remember that I am a lucky girl, life is good and I am darn well choosing happiness.

That’s what I call a shite run (if you’re easily grossed out or are offended by poo related profanities please don’t read any further).

This is another tale of two runs, really, and the theme is poo. Last Thursday I headed up the Valley to meet my friend K for a run. It was a good run but I had a gingerbread man trampolining my innards. What I mean is I really thought I was going to have to make like a bear and shit in the woods. I did actually dive into the undergrowth a couple of times but once I stopped running the urge left me (until I started running again). 

Fastforward to this week. When I got home I drank a strong coffee, perched upon the porcelain throne and by the time I headed to the Valley I was feeling pretty confident I wouldn’t be caught out – success!

The drive, like last week, was tense – the mist was pretty thick and the ford I have to cross managed to appear out of the fog and surprise me. As per usual  I took my dog, Brin, with me. Within the first mile she’d happily made like a bear twice and as I am nothing if not a responsible dog owner, those poops were bagged and ready to swipe on the run back to the car. Even poo number two, which a less vigilant owner probably would have left. (I did warn you there would be poo chat!)

About a mile in we could hear people, see lights and hear dogs barking. Now, apart from the fact Brin rarely barks, that doesn’t sound too dissimilar to the two of us out running with headtorches and a dog, but K and I both just got a really bad vibe and we didn’t feel happy to run on and end up in the midst of whatever was going on. We decided to turn back to the car and, of course, I swiped up the poo bags on the way back.

Knowing our run had been cut considerably short and feeling slightly cheated, I was getting set to stop my watch as the gate and the cars came into view. As I passed the poo bags from my right hand into my left so I could stop my watch, one of the bags caught on a metal part of my canicross belt and burst. Eeew!

What I didn’t appreciate immediately was just quite how much sloppy dog SHIT (the second one that I was debating the value of even lifting!) had splattered about my person – primarily my hi-viz jacket.

Boke.

Thank goodness we were virtually back at the car, which luckily contains baby wipes. K kindly helped me out and passed the (unplanned) extreme test of friendship with truly flying colours! When I took off my jacket and folded it in on itself insult was added to injury as I discovered the lovely Brin had chewed through the interior to try and access food in the back pocket (thank goodness I didn’t put my keys in there). 

After worrying so much last week that I was going to end up with porridge pants, I did not think for one moment that I would end up covered in crap tonight. Gross, gross, gross!

K and I usually hug at the end of our runs. Funnily enough we gave it a miss tonight.

We ended up doing a meagre two miles – both literally and figuratively a shitty run tonight.

Oh and by the way, none of the shite ended up on Brin – the wee jacket chewing sod got off scot-free.Image