Muscle your way past the gag reflex

The last time I was at my sister's her sprogs were watching a trailer for Disney's Ratatouille. Towards the end of the trailer a fat rat says, "you know, if you can sort of muscle your way past the gag reflex all kinds of food possibilities open up."

I can't remember being taught that as a child.

I woke this morning with that "I can't face it" feeling. I had to get up, go for a run, go to work, feign surprise when the announcement that another part of the firm is being split off is made, work through the noise, come home to a fridge without cheese...

Oh, the life of a First World male at the start of the 21C is tough!

...and then go to bed recognising that nothing's different from yesterday and tomorrow's just going to be the same. It was dark, cold and lightly raining outside. Bed was comfortable and Chota was using me as a pillow. Getting up and facing the day ahead seemed too difficult.

The important thing wasn't to face the day. The important thing was to get up. Just get up. I got up.

Sure it looked miserable outside, but that wasn't important. All that was important was putting on my running clothes. Nothing else, nothing after that mattered. I wasn't going running, I was putting on the clothes in which I run. I put on my running clothes.

Next, go outside. I wasn't going for a run. I was just going outside. Maybe I'd come straight back inside. I went outside.

Start running. It didn't need to be a set route. The goal was just to start running ... just get to the end of the Meadows ... just get to that downhill section a couple of blocks further ... just get to the next downhill section ... just get to Princes Street...

Right, now the goal is to change into my work clothes, "you're not going to work. You're just changing into the clothes you wear to work."