Why I don’t run. Ever.
I have to admit, there’s been times when I blurt out that I hate to run, too. Seriously funny read for me but I know this guys feelings are pretty genuine. I don’t often reblog others stories here but this was too funny not to share. Hope y’all can connect with the feelings and enjoy.
P.S. You don’t have to run. Just go out and get your body to move.
It was my first time in a cinema and I was agog.
People dipped discreetly into boxes of chocolate-covered nuts. There were carpets on the walls. An entire seat just for me. And not the usual rubbish designed for children, made of Marmite-proof, Oros-repellent plastic: this one was upholstered in the kind of plush, red velvet you can only dream of when you’re six. Best of all, we’d come to see Chariots Of Fire, a film about two of my favourite things at the time: chariots and fire.
When we opened on a beach in Scotland, with no sign of burning two-wheelers, I was disappointed. But only for a moment. Soon I was bewitched by the iconic theme, clean as endorphins pulsing through a brain; hypnotised by the white-clad figures skipping through the St Andrews surf.
One of them seemed to be overcome with some sort of rapture, throwing…
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