The aim of this blog is fairly simple. It’s all about trying to combine the enjoyment of good food and drink with a healthy level of exercise.
However, I recently found out to my cost that there should be an appropriate gap between those two things.
Last weekend the South West of England, like most of the UK, was having a good stab at recreating the sort of weather conditions that saw Noah reach for his hammer and nails. Mrs Running Buffet and I decided that a trip to the local country park for a spot of running was a silly idea and we headed to the shops instead. Whilst shopping is far from my favourite thing, a sudden downpour did necessitate a hasty dash to a cafe, and cafes are one of my favourite things.
This is the sort of cafe that has piles, literally piles, of cakes in their window. A window covered with greasy hand prints, from passers-by helpless in the face of so much cake, finding that they have to press their faces up to the glass to gasp, and possibly drool, at cakes the size of hat boxes, mounds of scones and heaps of flapjacks. It was inevitable that we were going to be having some cake with our coffee.
In fact, I had a scone, piled high with clotted cream and topped with a healthy dollop of jam*. Times two.
Back out into the afternoon, we found that a watery sun had emerged from behind the clouds. Driving home, the clouds parted and presented a rather more appealing late afternoon than we had expected. Spurred into action by the sight of the sun and wary of the wetter weather expected on Sunday, we got home, got changed and headed off to Stover Country Park. In our excitement at the miraculous lack of water falling from the sky, we rather forgot the scones, the clotted cream, the jam.
Or, to be exact, I forgot. Mrs RB had enjoyed a rather more dainty slice of cake than my two-scone cream tea.
It didn’t take long for the realisation to hit. A few minutes into my easy warm-up run, the weight of the scones began to make themselves felt. To add to the discomfort, I also had a couple of cups of coffee sloshing around alongside them. Ten minutes in, as I increased the pace to “comfortably hard” (no, I’m not sure either), I realised that the next 20 minutes were lining up to be pretty tough going.
It did turn out to be a lovely end to the day, with the setting sun lighting up the lake and a happy bunch of people wandering around the park, amazed that they had been able to grab a few hours outside in sunshine. For me, it was torturous. Cursing my greed, I lumbered around and around the lake feeling decidedly peculiar. I managed my 40 minutes and arrived back at the car just as the sun was setting. Mrs RB had enjoyed herself, rounding off the penultimate week of the Couch to 5k plan in strong form, despite her slice of cake. I felt terrible and regretted the run, the scones and the coffee.
I like to think that since starting this blog in 2011 I have shown that it is possible to combine good food and exercise. What I realise now is that perhaps you shouldn’t try doing them at the same time.
*This is the way I do it. It’s the right way; everyone else must be wrong.