Remember our trip to Crusoe’s in Tynemouth for breakfast (if not here’s a cheeky plug at the post Cruising The Coast To Crusoe’s)?

And how we went to the Royal Quays afterwards where (sadly) the hubster didn’t get his football boots (for anyone who is overly concerned about this and his football career, he did come home with some last night. He was match ready for that all-important Tuesday night 5-aside kick-about-skive-out-of-the-house.  Not forgetting that Sunday Morning league. But hey – he probably  needs a different type of boot for that. What do I know).

Well, we had a venture to the DW Sports Store as a last resort in search of said football boots.

While the OH wheeled Ella over to the footy boots, I sauntered over to the women’s trainers. On the guise that, although my current pair fit, they’re a little snug and thus prohibiting any attempt at running this damn cake weight off, I started trying on running trainers.

In the middle of doing long strides along the wall of trainers in my second pair, a bloke from the shop asked if I needed any assistance. Other than a miracle cure to melt cake fat, I smiled and said I was OK and just trying different styles of running trainers. I obviously looked as clueless as I felt amongst the ‘cushion’ and ‘support’ footwear.

So it went a bit like this (not the exact words but from what I recall and artistic licence, here’s what went down).

‘Why don’t I get one of the girls to do you a pronation assessment?’

A what? Hmmm why not?

‘We get you to run on the treadmill and film it, slowing down the footage to assess your feet’

That’s why not.

A) Running in the middle of a shop in my skinny jeans and a vest top that’s slightly too low for this activity. The jacket that would hide my modesty would need to be discarded for practicality

B) My fat ass would be on film – slowed down so every ripple and lump could bounce and wobble in spectacular fashion

‘It’s free.’

Why the hell not? I’m always making up excuses that I don’t have the right footwear and here’s my opportunity.

So I took it.

One of the shop assistants came over. She went through a form for me to sign and we discussed taking two shots; one in a pair of support trainers with cushioned insoles and another with just cushioned trainers. I signed the form. There was no going back now.

First pair of cushioned trainers strapped on and the jacket tossed aside, the OH rocks up with the pushchair in tow, looking rather bemused. His unsuccessful attempt at locating any football boots was quickly forgotten about when I explained what I was about to do.

It took everything in him not to film this torture and the fact that he had to walk away on the pretence he wasn’t going to watch so I  wasn’t put off meant he was pissing himself laughing. He blatantly perched himself behind the trainer stand and witnessed the entire humiliation.

Take one and I got the speed up, shouted ready and then ran for about eight seconds.  Yes, that’s all – they only needed a five second shot anyway. Thank God.

I got off and went to join two assistants (yes another had turned up to witness my atrocity) who were stood behind the treadmill studying a computer.

A computer that had my whole backside slowed down, my ass swishing and swooshing all over the place. I wasn’t paying any attention to the ‘pronation’ discussion initially as I was horrified at the fact that my one and only pair of skinny jeans made my legs look like sausages wrapped in elastic bands. Why did no-one tell me?

Stuff it.

I’ll just have to suffer a few weeks more.  I desperately need a whole new wardrobe for Autumn. After maternity clothing and then wearing to death any summer clothes that are flattering, I’m looking forward to a change in season. Hopefully these trainers will turn me into Jessica Ennis-Hill and I’ll lose those last few pesky pounds. Then I’m raiding H&M.

Back to the pronation. Here’s a link to the Runner’s World website with video clips and a better explanation than I could ever offer if you’re interested.

I was diagnosed with ‘Under Pronation’ – an insufficient inward roll of the foot after landing. This places extra stress  on the outside part of the foot. In short – I do need cushioned shoes with support.

Take two and I’m trying on support shoes with an in-sole cushioning. My feet feel strong – like they could run a marathon (let’s not get carried away – they feel like they can run).

This time I completely ignored the ass swooshing and focused on my feet looking stronger in the video.

By now I was feeling confident and asked the most bizarre request – could I run with the cushioned shoe on one foot and the support and cushioned in-sole on the other. You know, just to compare them.

Which I did despite the amused look on the assistant’s face.

It sealed the deal and I made my choice; support with cushioned in-soles.

I bought my New Balance Support trainers. I mean, I’m not too crazy about the look as there was a pair that I thought looked so much better. But these do the job.

Now to put them into action.

I was scouring Facebook and came across a post from Blyth Valley Children’s Centre advertising a running group in Cramlington where you can take your buggy. Perfect!

The group is These Girls Can Run and it’s ran by a lovely lady called Kim. They hold sessions every Mon, Wed and Friday morning at 9.30 for the buggy and baby brigade. They also do evening sessions at 7.30. It’s £2 and you meet at Northburn Sports and Community Centre.

Image from These Girls Can Run Website

I was apprehensive as I haven’t done anything like this in my life, let alone with a baby in tow. I contacted Kim and she was amazing. I explained I had a buggy and I’m not a very good runner at all. She encouraged me to come along and tagged a fellow buggy runner in the post so I had a familiar face to meet on arrival.

The night before, the route was posted up on Facebook. Luckily I used to live in Cramlington so I had an idea of the route although my memory is not particularly great at the moment. No sweat, I’ll probably be last so I can follow everyone else.

Kim was actually off the day but Adele took the group instead. She was just as nice and even brought her dog along too. In total there were three of us with buggies, one of which was a double one, a solo runner who was also beginning and Adele and her dog. The route was 3 miles and the weather was wet but slightly humid.

For someone who is awful at running, I did pretty impressive by my standards to do a mile and a half without stopping. We all have to start somewhere and this group is really supportive for that. Funnily enough, I found it easier pushing a buggy, especially alternating using one hand to push and the other arm for momentum (or whatever the terminology is).

At one point I was alone – I was in the middle of the pack but couldn’t see anyone in front or behind, so I kept going the way I thought I should be going. I forgot to set my phone as well to track the distance and I don’t own a fitbit boohoo.

There was a part of the route where you could do another loop if you wanted to. I didn’t (surprise surprise). Little steps though.

I got back to base and we did some cool down stretches. It was then, to my horror, I realised my top was inside out. Argh! It could only happen to me! In my defence I’d thrown it on under a long-sleeved top thinking it looked cooler than it was outside, not paying attention in my usual mad-dash rush to get out of the house. Never mind.

I loved my first session with the group – I learned some breathing techniques and I found running in a pack is way better for your morale than out there alone. I think Ella enjoyed it too – the look on her face when she woke up mid-run to see my panting, beetroot-red face was priceless. But she’s used to this crack, I’ve been to many a buggy bootcamp now.

I’ll definitely be back – I missed this Monday with it being the Bank Hol but with a choice of Wed and Friday as well I’m sure I can fit it in around all the baby groups.

How I imagine I look when I’m running – wistful and graceful haha! Image from Unsplash

This girl wearing an inside out top can and will run. I refuse to have sausages-in-lacky-band-legs any longer.

Love Missuswolf xxx