Running away

When I was a kid I was captivated with running away. Not in the traditional sense to get away from your family and hating your life, no no (I liked my life), more to ‘go on an adventure’. I harboured dreams of having a bag packed and heading out into the unknown. I even persuaded a group of mates to do just that once, we made it as far as the haunted house in the village on our bikes with our backpacks until we got spooked and decided our own beds were probably a better idea to sleep in that night. I don’t even know if my parents knew I’d gone.

Part of the running away/adventure meant I had to think about what I needed to wear. As a kid I decided that trainers, shorts and a t-shirt or vest were optimum as you never knew when you might need to run, jump or climb. As a teenager, and now as an adult, STILL TO THIS DAY, I think this. There’s a part of me that, when wearing heels or smart clothes, that thinks about how impractical they are if something happened where I had to run away or take action. Like, what if there was a city under attack, a zombie crisis or Jean Claude Van Damme turned up and needed me to go on the run with him.

Maybe I’ve watched too many films where the characters end up in some kind of disaster/adventure and all I can think is that the women often have the most impractical clothes and shoes (Transformers anyone? As IF anyone can run in those heels). Probably why you’ll not see me wearing heels that often. Just in case.