That traditional panic.

It has reached that point in the year when all those things you need to do just won't seem to fit into the time you've got to do them. For me, training consistently is one of them.

But I'm still doing the walk next year. I'm just going to take a couple of weeks off from this blog so I can sort out all the other bits of my life without feeling guilty about not writing here.

Back soon,
Kate x

A different kind of training shoe...

After a month-long break from dance, I finally fitted my slightly misshapen foot into my flamenco shoe last night. And I danced. I danced without wincing or whining, and I danced with enthusiasm. It was great.

I'm definitely get back out with the proper training later this week. Although it's cold out, and it's far nicer to sit snuggled up on the sofa inside, I'm really looking forward to getting out there again. I've started to miss it - perhaps that forced break was a good thing?

It's moments like these that I realise it's all starting to get serious.

I just audibly squealed when two parcels were delivered to work for me. This is what I opened them to find.



I knew that's what was inside the boxes and I was actually excited about them...that's a worrying thing.

Overcoming fears and feelings of treachery.

I spent over one and a half hours in a running shop on Thursday evening. During that time I tried of a good dozen shoes, walked up and down the pavement outside in most of them, and discovered that I take a men's size 9.5 UK. Yeah, that last one was a bit of a stinger.

I've come away with a very comfy pair of Asics Gel Cumulus 12 and had my first of many training walks this lunch time to test them out. They are a dream!

So, I'd like to thank the staff at Run and Become for being so patient with me and helping me to find some awesome running shoes. Even though I won't be running in them.

My next challenge is trying to fit the training mileage into my already busy week. I'll report back later with how that's going...

Inheritance.

When Dad passed away, I inherited something pretty special. His walking shoes.

Truth be told, I'd been stealing pairs of shoes from him for years (his long sheepskin lined brown leather Bally boots were, and are, a favourite of mine) and I was well practiced at sneaking away pairs of his nice wool socks. But this great pair of Brashers are something special.

Since I inherited them they've been everywhere I could possibly conceive needing a good pair of sturdy shoes. They've walked the Atlas mountains of Morocco twice (once on Dad's feet, and once on mine), got soaked through in the Lake District and, at the start of this year, joined me on a short walk through snow on the Pennines.

But as great as they are at walking off road, I don't think they're ideal for the challenge ahead.

So I'm going to a specialist running shop this week to get my walk assessed and find a flexible pair of lightweight trainers to start the serious training in. I feel strangely nervous about this purchase and almost feel like I'm cheating on my Dad's shoes. Hopefully these feelings will fade once my feet are more comfortably shod.