I departed my train, very late, very cold and very tired (and wearing heels). From the station exit I could see down the road from which the bus approached and there it was, there was no way I could make it unless I ran, so I ran - needing to get on the bus else wise I may have detoured into the chip shop. There I was trotting away down the hill, fear of slipping over, fear of missing the bus and having to stand around in the cold for even longer. Not breaking a sweat, not puffing but tottering along like a fool I made the bus, the driver looked distinctly disappointed that I had made it but gave me a sort of smug look.
I sat down, relieved. Then thought back, if I had run that 200m or so for a bus a mere couple of years ago, I would have been out of breath and struggling to compose myself. Not anymore and not ever again (I hope). Hooray for running!
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