March 24th 2020
Today I was thankful that exercise outdoors is not yet against the law, because I really needed to go for a run. (At some point I will become accustomed to writing sentences like that, but not yet)
I’ve been stuck working form home in my flat for a week now, before it was on advice from the government, and now it’s on instruction from the government. Yesterday the Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, (I know you know who the Prime Minister is, but I’m noting it down so that future-me, if there is a future me, can remember when he reads back on this in 40 years time to reminisce about the time the UK was in lockdown), announced that all UK residents should stay in their homes, and only leave them for essentials like food, work if completely necessary, and for one bit of exercise per day.
I’ve known for a week that I should have got out for a run, I just haven’t done it. I don’t know if that makes sense. But now that the government are, allegedly, strictly enforcing this isolation other than for exercise, it felt necessary to get out and do some because Bojo said that I could.
Soon, Bojo will say that I can’t, and at that point I’ll have to listen to him, but while I can, I should. So I did.
I ran for 7km at 5 min/km and it felt good. It was so great to be outside. I ran the first kilometre at a rapid pace because my legs were springy and fresh and coiled like a spring (I don’t care that I used ‘spring’ twice)
I was so glad to be outside that I felt like leaping over bench that I ran past. I didn’t though, because I might’ve broken a leg, and I don’t fancy being in the hospital right now.
To congratulate myself on being out for a run, I drank most of these:
Until tomorrow, quarantine is sometimes okay.