A Walk in The Park

Yeah, so the hottest day so far yesterday. And what better way to show your love for your ginger fiance than to get him out running. At 2pm. Apparently some Holarctic Wildfowl fly away from summer to breed. This would probably be a more appropriate action for someone with my lack of colour but true to form; I do the opposite.

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If I was a girl.

I really don’t want to turn this travel blog into a fitness one but parts of my body seem to following the Holarctic Wildfowls’ ideas of heading south for the summer. My mid 30’s body seems to be in a state of relaxation, not wanting to deal effectively with the volumes of cheese, meat and beer that is enjoying. When I turn, my skeletal structure conforms and I can be, facing 90 degrees in a different direction. However, the softer winter reserves catch up with my frame a good few seconds after. This can cause imbalance, unease and most importantly; my wedding suit may not fit.

So, we went for a run… Well, a walk… With a bit of running involved. The scenery required photographing  which is quite difficult when running if your man-boobs threaten to knock your phone out of your hands. So we walked mostly, took some photos then a few routines of sit-ups, playing with some huge, rubber band type things.

I’ve been assured that the park falls into one the wealthiest parts of town. And some of the largest, well maintained, older properties of the city line the street of Av. Emilio Civit leading to the ornate gates of el parque de San Martin:

san-martin-gates

Sorry, not my photo – there were too many cars for me to run and take a decent shot.

Jime had advised that only one of us should take our phone, as it would be better to have only one stolen than both. After much deliberation and compromise it was decided that my phone would be the one that we could sacrifice if the worst should happen. However, the only thing that we were to be mugged of was the $3,80 for a bottle of water when entering the park. But it was a pretty cold water and it definitely was needed.

And then we walked, jogged, and walked again before being overtaken by an old lady in purple Lycra pants. So we upped the pace to overtake her and restore a sense of pride on my part. And I took some pretty mean photos.

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Under the shade of the palm trees, the entrance, the museum and the lake.

What I didn’t take photos of are the people who use the park and lake to complement their fitness regime. The park is home to an exclusive gym, with a boating lake, restaurants and the like. There are plenty of outdoor fitness groups sweating their gordy-ness away to a beat. These guys and gals are fit – in all senses of the word. I shall return. I shall be less wobbly so that I won’t look out of place.

But I will still be ginger.

 

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