A few weeks back one Friday night I took a trip to Glasgow to go dancing. My friend Diane runs an occasional club night where those of us of a certain age can revisit our dance moves. It is a clever formula- Diane and Angie magically transform a local bowling club with fairy lights and jam jar lanterns – and when the lights are dimmed and the volume turned up The Hip Replacement Club is arguably the best venue in town. Add to this modestly priced drinks and a great DJ and it makes for a good night. I studied in Glasgow and lived there on and off for almost seven years, and like most folk I have a special fondness for my old university town. On the few occasions I have gone to Hip replacement, I always see someone I knew from back in the day and pick up on some conversation or other or take a trip down memory lane. Fun times. Diane and I have been friends for years, and have had some adventures together, but when we were sharing a flat in our 20s I think it’s fair to say exercise was not high on our list of priorities. Times were different then, and no one except those of a serious sporty inclination seemed to really do any exercise ( or maybe just not in my circles). Luckily for me despite my fondness for lager, Tunnocks caramel logs and a typical student diet that mostly revolved around cheese in its various incarnations, I did not worry about my weight. Lack of money meant I pretty much walked everywhere, went dancing more often than I do now and for quite a bit of my student life I worked in a bar, so was mostly skinny without any real effort on my part. I had loads of other body image issues, as foolishly young women do, but seeing how things are now with my own daughters, I am glad that I managed to live out my student years sheltered from the prism of mobile phone cameras recording my every nuance and before Facebook was invented. So Diane and I have been confidantes, drinking buddies, soul-mates, and all round good chums for many years but we have never gone running together. Diane had spoken of us maybe doing Parkrun on the Saturday after Hip Replacement, but my fear of Parkrun is still not overcome, and I was struggling to summon up enthusiasm for it added to that we had come back and stayed up pretty late, so a lie in seemed preferable. But you don’t need a Parkrun to run, so once surfaced we took ourselves out. Because we know each other so well, but have never run together, it was a bit strange at first – I was definitely gibbering a bit, feeling I had to fill the space and talk incessantly about running and my top tips, as if we were strangers, and of course at one point we both shared the ‘who would have thought it’ glance at our running selves- no need for explanation – how times change. But we kept on running and did a nice wee loop finishing back in the Park and a tiny killer hill took us home to a bacon roll breakfast. My Glasgow weekend continued with a visit to Diane’s exhibition at Cafe Gandolfi, then as is the way in Glasgow a brief shopping trip where I succumbed to Glasgow persuasion and bought myself some high heeled boots.