In Bumpkinsville I had my lovely yoga class, my very happy fitball class, and a fantastic group that I ran with each week.

In Beachville, things have been a bit more tricky.  I joined a yoga class, but the focus seemed to see some sort of breathing competition around ‘that bit’ of When Harry Met Sally and was so crowded that at the last class I went to we had to fold our mats in half to fit everyone in.  So I changed classes and the last two weeks have been amazing.  Any teacher who renames a rather boring pose ‘The flying dragon’, teaches you where your ‘tortoise point’ is, encourages stretching your wingspan and isn’t too enthusiastic about noisy breathing has my vote.

I’ve not been able to find an exercise class that covers what I want and a time and place that works, but I’ve been doing park gym / back garden gym once a week or so, although I think I may have scared a few neighbours walking past as I attempt things with kettle bells that I probably shouldn’t.

And running.  I’ve been running.  I didn’t think I’d done that much until I looked at the bottom of the trainers I’d bought just before I moved here.  Oops.  This is old versus new:

It feels a bit lonely here sometimes.  I’m used to doing some exercise each week with smiley faces I know, but the box my trainers came in made me smile:

I’ve taken them 40km (almost 25 miles) around Beachville this week.  We’ve done skies so dark and rain so soggy I had to borrow a fluorescent t shirt from Himself to be seen.  We’ve done skies so blue and air so warm that people have been swimming in the sea at 7.30am:

And we’ve done ‘just a bit dull’ (there’s nothing like a British summer).

We’ve seen a man being pulled along on a skateboard by two Huskies on their walk and congratulated him on his ingenuity and we’ve nearly been taken out by a shouty man on a bike.

My reward for taking my trainers on their requested adventure is blisters so big that I look like I have two feet on each leg (and that’s with Lanacane).  Today I can only assume I was running funny (down to the blisters maybe?) as people smiled at me.  Lots of people.  It wasn’t quite the same as exercising with friends in Bumpkinsville, but it make me smile right back.

So I wanted to say:  spread your smiles around.  Because they might just reach someone who has got so desperate for friends that she’s treating her trainers like they have personalities.  And that person might already look happy – if rather sweaty – but your smile could be the loveliest thing that happens to them today. :o)

PS:  My first yoga class was a bit out there, but didn’t have a patch on these two who we saw on holiday.  It wasn’t a nudist beach and while he quietly meditated, she go up with no warning to do a bit of stretching, and I think it’s fair to say that she surprised the people behind her… ;)