..or that's what I was always told by my parents, as I wandered through that lovely state of blissful ignorance that is, and should be, childhood. Admittedly, in adult life this maxim doesn't always hold, and one learns, more through trial and error than by instruction, when the 'little white' lies are an essential strategy to deal with horrendous haircuts, outfits, or choice of (boy) friends/partners etc. However, in an event such as the Parish Walk, when you choose to train, and ultimately commit to walking with someone, trust and honesty are almost unspoken rules of the partnership. How else can you support each other during the darkest hours and longest climbs unless you can speak your mind. So, imagine my surprise when, having made no plans for any training walks due to the sheer volume of 'other stuff' happening evenings and weekends for the past month or so (I'll come back to that in a bit) I discover in a passing remark made by Mum, that Dad - my walking partner for 3 PW's, has been doing secret training between Port Soderick and town every day for the past week..........Dad - you have been outed and I am most unimpressed!
So - as I anticipated from the outset of the blog - serious training is having to take second place behind all the other stuff that is life with children and work and hobbies and involvements. Treadmill is still broken, the only time I have seen the PW Virgin was bumping into him on the way home in the rain the other night. We didn't mention PW. And as much as I'd like to be able to report on miles of arduous, focused training, targets met and calories burned - I can't. Training walks completed = zero, training walks planned this side of March = zero. Honest.
