Week 18 – 10 miles
“You’ll love the endorphin rush” they said. “The high you get from exercising is like nothing else” they proselytized. Well, I have been running and bootcamping for nearly a year now and I have never experienced an exercise ‘high’ whilst pounding the streets or lifting weights. I have, however, experienced an immense sense of achievement for completing a session/run without fainting, puking or quitting (goodness I’ve been close), but that glow of knowing I’ve pushed by body to the brink is always, ALWAYS followed by pain, radiating from muscles I never even knew I had.
Whatever possessed me to take on such a huge physical challenge (for me) at 36? Why didn’t I do it when I was young and nimble? Ah, yes, that’s because I was off having fun. But as age creeps up on me, so do the pounds, and they are much harder to shift now. More importantly (apart from the obvious health benefits) I want to keep enjoying my passions – food and fashion.
On my tiny slice of paradise there is food, mostly shipped in and not particularly tasty. With a few notable exceptions (there are a few delicious restaurants), the national dish appears to be hamburger. For everyone envisaging a super healthy lifestyle filled with fresh fish plucked out of the sea by burly fisherman, served with fresh local sunkissed vegetables- think again. There are no ‘farm-to-table’ weekly organic veggie boxes full of rainbow, mis-shapen delights delivered directly to your door and distressingly the Ocado app enabling you to shop from the comfort of your own sofa for some reason doesn’t work (who knew?). So it’s up to us to brave the aisles of the local supermarket and pray that today is the day that they have fresh milk. Don’t even get me started on plain, natural yoghurt. That is a luxury. Yes, I realise I am speaking from on top of my pedestal of privilege, but it does erk me that my supermarket in the Caribbean stocks 7 different type of grated cheese but is incapable of keeping a plentiful supply of bananas or pineapples!
Fear not, for I still eat…well and my repertoire of recipes has increased dramatically – you should see what I can do with a tin of chickpeas, some salami and broccoli. My love of eating however is incompatible with my love of fashion, and so I run. The few clothes shops on the island are reminiscent of the bustling stalls of Shepherd’s Bush market and whilst there are bargains to be had, you are also likely to go up in flames with the merest spark. On the one hand, this lack of retail opportunities saves you from just popping to the shops in your lunch hour for a little treat, but for me online shopping has become far more dangerous and expensive. Then, after your finger ‘accidentally pushes the ‘buy-me-now-I-am-fabulous’ button there’s the agonising wait for it to arrive (via the US/UK/someone’s suitcase) and the often crushing disappointment when the item you’ve been visualising yourself wearing whilst sipping a glass of rose on a balmy evening actually makes you look like an overstuffed sausage.
Not that you need to bother with fashion here really. Whilst the local population like to look smart, the tourists have an interesting interpretation of streetwear. Many are the days that I am walking to Court, black robes flapping, chickens pecking at my feet when I pass a group fresh off the cruise ships donning their best string vest/3 sizes too small speedo all neatly accessorized with their newly acquired lobster tan.
But I am not to be deterred and so I read my Vogue and try to imagine living in a world where mismatched earrings and dr martens with floral slip dresses are de rigour (yes, they are back). Every now and then a treat arrives that makes my heart sing. Take my new cats eye, mirrored sunglasses that arrived on my desk this week (thank you boss for bringing them home in your suitcase). Whilst the men in my life were scathing, I loved them and felt vindicated when I opened the latest Grazia (which came out AFTER my purchase) to see my little beauties staring back at me from the ‘hot right now’ fashion pages. That was my endorphin rush and there was no pain!
To be able to continue feeling this great in whatever fashion manages to slip through the neon nylon jungle, the running must continue, and although for me there is no high whilst running, there is smiling- knowing I am pushing myself further than I ever thought possible. The old mantra – you can do anything if you put your mind to it is so true and I will be doing that in my fabulous new sunglasses, feeling amazing and in the best shape of my life.