I too have started. Started helping my wife that is. Although she is helping me too. Here's how:
Through fucking like stoned bunnies. Forgive me, I am reading Kevin Smith's diary at the moment. Sinéad has agreed to look after the kids and get them ready so I can go swimming in the mornings and try and shift some of that upper body weight before attempting any running.
Shin Splints blah-de-blah-de-blah. Taking up Tennis after that. Then, I may start running and join in this madness. That'll put it up to the dopey Monaghan tube.
I, in my way, help Sinéad by buying her stuff. Today I bought her:
Running Gloves
Running Socks
Sports Bras.
-- I had to go to the lingerie section for these, but I looked sufficiently like a lost male for some incredibly hot lady to help me. Man! I have all the shit jobs.
So there. I am really putting myself on the line for this running lark. I am semi-officially-kinda-half-not-really-but-sort-of buying into this.
