It's been a glorious day today. Which wouldn't be so much of a problem, but I had to give up on my run before I'd finished because I just couldn't carry on in the heat. The Great North Run is 4 weeks tomorrow, and being ill a week or two back has really set back my training. I've lost a great deal of my fitness and I've moved from thinking about running the whole way to thinking it'll be run-walk. Not what I planned, but neither was the chest infection. I was going to do a 10m race next weekend, but seeing as I had to stop 3 miles into my 4 mile run today and walk the rest of the way home, I've had to accept that that isn't going to happen.
I was at West Jesmond metro before, waiting for a train to my friend's place. There was a girl on the platform, seemingly on the phone to a rather dim National Rail Enquiries operative who seemed to take an age to respond to her simple query about when the next train from Newcastle to Durham was.
As we got on the train, I noticed that the label on her top was out. It was a colourful top, one of those halternecks that also ties round your middle. She was facing away from me, but the label was pretty obvious, so I got her attention to let her know. She tucked it back in, joking that if it'd been designer she would have left it sticking out.
I got off the train before she did. I wanted to tell her to enjoy her night, but I wimped out. It's strange how in some ways I'm friendly and chatty, but in some situations I turn incredibly shy. On Tuesday I came across some people in work putting make up on in the ladies. I asked if they were going out and they told me they were going out for a meal. But instead of asking where, I skipped that step of the conversation and just said 'have a nice night'. I felt antsy as I left the loos, as if I'd bended the rules of socialising.
Maybe I just need to relax. But if anyone does have any tips beyond 'just take a deep breath and smile' then I'd be glad to hear them. I find it hard to believe people really do want to be friends with me, sometimes. And I think nerves are part of the reason why. When my friends came over for tapas the other week, I felt pressured to make sure the food was as good, the conversation as scintillating, the night was as much fun as when we'd eaten at theirs. And really, as long as everyone enjoys the food and company, does the comparison really matter?