I hauled myself out for a run on Saturday, despite the suspicion that I am incubating the cold that Husband has succumbed to. (A sure sign that he is ill - I was sent out on Saturday morning to buy Covonia cough mixture. Husband swears by it, reasoning that it tastes so vile, it must be doing you good.) I managed to slog out a 10km run (10.0037km according to the excruciatingly accurate Mapmyrun) and had to grit my teeth for much of it.
The interesting part was on the homeward half when I passed another runner. This in itself is not unusual - the roads I run on are very well used by runners and walkers and people like myself who fall somewhere inbetween. What was interesting was that this runner was an Indian lady, probably in her late forties or early fifties. And she was wearing a full sari, with headscarf. And a brown velvet coat, buttoned up. And gold lame ballet pumps. She passed me running at a fair lick, head down, concentrating. I had in fact seen this lady once before when I was out. She was running on the same stretch of road by the bus stop, wearing pretty much the same outfit. I had sort of just assumed that she was just running a bit to keep warm while waiting for her bus. Clearly not. Clearly she is a serious runner. How cool is that? And how overdressed and dorky did I feel in my lycra capri pants, wicking top, Hilly Monoskin socks and Asics Gel Foundation trainers?