|These are not the abs of a woman|
addicted to co-op almond croissants
I have no earphones, so I am kinda guessing what's going on. Richard Wilson is on screen. I hope, as I jog, that he has won an award. Back home later, turns out he has had a heart attack. Not my best guess...
Anyhoo it was the news and there was some olympics stuff in there which was mainly people rowing in a boat at Henley in Arden or somewhere like that.
I am watching the screen, keeping one eye on my time and distance. I want to be able to run a km in less than 10 minutes (my first attempt's time). According to the screen, if I can just up my speed a little, I will run a kilometre in under 9 minutes. I know. Roger Bannister I ain't.
I flick up the gear lever that controls the speed of the running machine and suddenly my screen springs into life:
'A MINUTE WITH JESSICA ENNIS-HILL' screams the title on the screen.
Dear SWEET bebbeh JEEESUS - what have I done?!
I am jabbing at the touch screen in front of me so mindlessly that I forget to keep my feet moving and suddenly I'm staggering around on the treadmill, hyperventilating and making panicked whining noises.
I can barely run the length of myself - I do not want Jessica Ennis-Hill as a running mate. Not for a minute. Not for a nanosecond. Despite everyone else in the room wearing headphones, all eyes seem to be turned in my direction.
My panicked gaze alights on the screen of the chap jogging next to me. His screen is exactly the same as mine.
A minute with Jessica Ennis Hill isn't a running machine programme, it's a 60-second slot on the olympic news.
Still, my time for the kilometre was under 9 minutes. However, the heart-failure was immediate :-D