Personal Best (Part 2)

On Saturday morning I picked Sam up from her home – she still lived with her parents - and drove into town where the shoe shop was located. Sam was dressed in tight blue denim jeans, a plain white tee shirt and tan leather pixie boots. She’d got her hair in a long ponytail held in place with a bright blue elasticated scrunchie. She looked divine. As I drove we chatted about running and training. I told her about the schedule I’d been working on and suggested that once we’d got her shoes we grab a coffee and I could explain my ideas to her. Sam seemed really pleased. I parked up and we walked to the shoe shop. It was a specialist sports shoe shop that I knew from my running days stocked a good selection of trainers specifically for runners. I hoped they still did. As we entered the shop I turned to Sam and reminded her that we were here to buy shoes suitable for her to run in – not party in; I instructed her not to be tempted by the latest styles or fashion trends.

 

“As if I would!” Sam giggled, less than convincingly.

 

We were greeted by an extremely attractive female shop assistant that was probably a couple of years younger than Sam - about nineteen or twenty. She was a similar height and build to Sam and she too had long, shiny hair, but whereas Sam’s was golden blond, the assistant’s was jet black. She was dressed in a short navy-blue skirt – or possibly skort - that would be appropriate on the hockey pitch or netball court. This was teamed with a tight-fitting blue polo shirt that emphasised her breasts – which appeared slightly bigger than Sam’s - and left a slither of her trim, tanned, torso uncovered. It’s always reassuring when buying sports gear that the assistant appears to be athletic. Nothing more disconcerting than buying trainers from someone that is obviously overweight.

 

“Hi. I’m Alice.” the shop assistant announced in a friendly, cheerful voice, “How can I help you today?” Although Alice looked slightly South American in appearance, she spoke with a refined English accent.

 

“Hello.” I responded, “We are looking for a pair of ladies’ running shoes for Sam here. Suitable for running on the road; she's doing a Fun Run. We’ll need to confirm her size first – she thinks she’s Size Five.” I explained.

 

“Sure. I can do that. We’ve got a good selection of ladies’ running shoes.” Alice replied, “Please follow me.”

 

Alice led us passed shelves stacked high with all manner of training shoes, through to the back of the shop where there was a sitting area. Following close behind Alice I couldn’t help but notice her pleasing figure and shapely legs. Her skirt was so short it barely covered her bottom, and it swayed suggestively as she walked. Being fairly early morning there were no other customers in the shop. I sat down next to Sam. Alice left us briefly; when she returned she had a Brannock foot measuring device which she placed in front of Sam. She instructed Sam to take off her boots. The assistant and I both giggled as Sam removed her boots to reveal she was wearing colourful Lilo and Stitch ankle socks.

 

“I didn’t think that through, did I?” she laughed, “I should’ve known I’d have to take my boots off.”

 

“I think they’re cute!” Alice smiled.

 

Alice squatted down and positioned Sam’s right foot in the measuring device. As she concentrated on getting Sam’s foot in the correct position she parted her own knees slightly which gave me a tantalising view right up her skirt. I can confirm it definitely was a skirt not a skort because I got an unexpected glimpse of white panties. She seemed completely oblivious to the display she was giving me. For my part, I knew the decent thing to do was to look away, but I couldn’t avert my eyes from the splendid vista.

 

When Alice was satisfied with the measurements for Sam’s right foot she shifted the apparatus over to the left one. As she changed her position she opened her legs even wider affording an unbelievable view up her skirt. I suppressed an involuntary gasp as I got a clear sight of her inner thighs and the tiny triangle of her white panties. I don’t know if she had any idea of how much she was displaying; if she did she didn’t seem at all concerned.

 

When Alice completed measuring Sam’s right foot she stood up, adjusted her skirt, and manoeuvred the measuring contraption out of the way.

 

“I think you’ll need a five-and-a-half.” Alice said, “I’ll get you a selection to try on.”

 

As soon as Alice had left us to go and get the trainers for Sam to try, Sam nudged me with her elbow and leaned in close.

 

“I could see right up her skirt.” Sam whispered sheepishly, “Could you?”

 

“I could.” I admitted guiltily, turning red.

 

“Did you see her knickers?” Sam quizzed, “They were white. I had a clear view of them.”

 

“So did I.” I blushed.

 

“Do you think she knew we could see them?” Sam continued secretly in a hushed tone, “Perhaps I should tell her when she comes back?”

 

“Tell her what exactly?” I questioned, 

 

“I’ll let her know that when she squats down like that we could see up her skirt and see her knickers.” Sam pressed, “Perhaps she’s too young and naïve to realise?”

 

“Would you want to be told?” I asked.

 

Sam contemplated this for a while.

 

“I suppose if you saw me in my knickers I’d be more embarrassed talking about it than actually showing them to you.” Sam conceded.

 

Now I must admit that I’d been partially erect since that first unexpected view up Alice’s skirt. She really was a stunningly attractive girl. Now the thought of seeing Sam in her knickers, only served to stiffen me even more. Fortunately, as I was sitting down, I was able to position my hands in my lap and conceal my swelling. I crossed my legs as well, just to be on the safe side. I hoped it would go down before I had to stand up.

 

“I guess wearing a skirt that short she must be aware of the risk.” Sam observed, “Perhaps she even enjoys teasing her customers.” she added, contemplatively.

 

“You’re right. That skirt is so short, she must have known we could see them.” I concurred, “She didn’t seem too fussed by it though.”

 

“Still, a bit of a treat for you. I bet you wasn’t expecting that today!” Sam giggled, “If you’re lucky you might see even more yet!”

 

“Sam!” I admonished her, feeling I’d been sussed, “Shush, here she comes back.”    

 

Alice came back carrying half a dozen shoe boxes. I was pleased to see that they bore the names of brands that I was familiar with from my running days. Alice put the boxes down and crouched beside them. Straight away we could see up her skirt again. I was so close, and Alice’s legs were wide enough apart, that I could discern the outline of her little slit beneath the thin material of her panties. If I could see it I guess Sam could too.

 

“Hopefully you’ll see something here that you like.” Alice said, opening the first of the boxes.

 

“Oh, I think he has already.” Sam sniggered, giving me a nudge.

 

I tried my best to concentrate on the shoes but every so often I gave in to temptation and had a sly look up Alice’s skirt. I picked out what I thought would be the most suitable trainers for Sam’s style of running. She slipped them on; they seemed to fit perfectly. She walked about in them and fed back that they were comfortable. She came back and sat beside me.

 

“Well, happy with those?” I asked, “Not too tight?”

 

“Yes, they’re really comfortable.” she replied, then turning her attention to Alice she continued, “Do you think I could look at those pink and purple ones up there please?” pointing out a garish pair of pumps on the top shelf.

 

“Certainly.” Alice replied, “I’ll just have to get some steps.”

 

While Alice went to get the steps, I looked disparagingly at Sam.

 

“What did I say when we came in?” I asked, unable to hide my disappointment.

 

“You said we are here to buy shoes for me to run in; not for me to party in.” Sam responded, “And I mustn’t be tempted by the latest fashion.”

 

“Well?” I quizzed, “What’s with those flashy things? You’ll never be able to run in those!” I continued, indicating with my eyes the shoes on the top shelf.

 

“You’ll see.” Sam chuckled mysteriously.

 

At that point Alice returned with the steps. She positioned them under the shoes that Sam had picked out and proceeded to climb up the ladder. When she got to the top of the steps she reached up to get the shoes; this caused her little skirt to ride up even further. From our vantage point below we could see Alice’s perky bottom with just a slither of her white panties between her bare cheeks. I almost choked as I took in the splendid view. Her bottom was adorable.

 

“Happy now?” Sam chuckled, “I asked to see them for you, not for me!”

 

“That was mean!” I replied, “But what a view! Thank you!”

 

Alice descended the ladder a brought the showy shoes to us. Sam made a point of putting them on and appearing to consider them.

 

“They’re nice but I think I’ll stick with these.” Sam announced, holding up the original pair that I had selected.

 

“That’s great!” Alice responded enthusiastically, “Follow me to the counter and I’ll bag them up for you.”

 

After seeing Alice’s adorable bottom I had got even stiffer. There was no way I could stand up without the girls noticing just how erect I was. I made a point of putting all the shoes back into their respective boxes and generally tidying up. I then took the opportunity to examine the price label on the shoes that Sam had selected. I was pleasantly surprised that they were only slightly more expensive than what I was used to paying back when I was running seriously. During the couple of minutes it took to do this, my cock relaxed enough so that I could stand up without embarrassment. We followed Alice to the till at the front of the shop. Alice put the shoebox into a carrier bag and handed it to Sam. I handed my credit card over.

 

“I’ll treat you to those Sam.” I said magnanimously.

 

“Thank you!” Sam replied gratefully.

 

“You’re a lucky girl to be treated like that.” Alice smiled.

 

“Oh, he’s had quite a treat this morning too!” Sam grinned, nudging me playfully.

 

Whether Alice knew what Sam was alluding to we’ll never know. We left the shoe shop and made our way to a nearby coffee shop. I sat down at a table while Sam got the drinks. Sam returned to the table with two frothy coffees and two cream buns.

 

“As my training doesn’t start officially until Monday, I thought we’d have a treat.” Sam said, passing me one of the buns.

 

“Who said it doesn’t start till Monday?” I joshed.

 

We spent the next twenty minutes or so going over the training schedule that I’d prepared. I stressed to Sam that she shouldn’t be tempted to do too much too soon, and that she should stick to the plan even if she thought she was capable of more. I emphasised the need to incorporate at least one rest day into her week where she should do no exercise at all, to allow her body to recover. I suggested she continued to run mostly on the grass to start with, gradually increasing the amount of time she spent on the road. Sam listened intently and appeared to be taking it all in. I hoped that she would prove an attentive and compliant student. Above all, I instructed her that if she felt tired or had any pain whatsoever she should stop training and let me know. The main objective was to be able to run on the day of the race, without injury. Any target for a specific time was secondary at this stage. I instructed Sam to keep a log of what exercise she’d done each day. I also said that she could carry on eating and drinking as normal for the first couple of weeks – maybe cutting down on the cream buns (!) – and to make sure she drank plenty of water. Finally, I agreed to run with her on Wednesdays so that I could monitor her progress. As I wound up I asked Sam:

 

“Any questions?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Sam responded, “You’ve been brilliant. I can’t thank you enough.”

 

“You’re welcome.” I replied, “If you stick to the plan I guarantee that you’ll finish the race comfortably in a reasonable time, and should contribute some valuable points to your team.”

 

“That would be great!” Sam beamed, “If I can do that I’d be over-the-moon!” She leaned across the table and kissed me on the cheek.

 

“Okay. If you’ve finished your drink – and your cake – shall we head home?” I asked, slightly taken aback by her forwardness.

 

“There was just one thing.” Sam started, “At the moment I’m running in my gym gear; would it be better if I had some proper running clothes?”

 

“It’s not essential. What you were wearing the other day is fine for training at the speed and distances you’re currently running.” I explained, “As you go further and faster you may benefit from some specialist running clothes. Especially as the weather warms up. But there’s no need at the moment.”

 

“I’d like to get some.” Sam insisted, “Will you come with me to choose something appropriate?” she enquired.

 

“What now?” I asked, “I suppose I could. Although, as I said, there’s no rush.”

 

“Please.” Sam beseeched, “You’d like to spend some more time with me wouldn’t you?” she fawned.

 

I must admit I enjoyed Sam’s company. It wasn’t just that she was a young, ebullient, very attractive girl – although that helped (!) – but her enthusiasm for running and getting fit was infectious. For the first time in ages I was feeling motivated to get fit and run again myself.

 

“I guess we’ve got time.” I conceded, “But the same rules apply as they did in the shoe shop; we are only there to get running clothes, not fashion items.”

 

“I remember. Running gear only – I promise!” Sam laughed, “You never know, perhaps there will be a shop assistant keen to show you her knickers again!” Sam chuckled.     

 

There was a sports shop in the same mall as where we had our coffee. It only took a few minutes to get there. It was a large store, spread over two storeys, stocking a huge array of sporting goods. There was a whole section upstairs dedicated to running wear; and within that there was a large area specifically catering for female runners. I could see that Sam was overawed by the choice available, she looked lost.

 

“What do I need exactly?” Sam asked, bewilderment on her face, “I never realised running could be so complicated.”

 

“I suggest you get a base layer of seamless leggings or tights, and a seamless, long-sleeved top, for when it’s chilly or you’re only doing slow work. Then, for when it’s hotter, or you’re running a bit quicker – and for the race itself – you’ll need a pair of lightweight shorts and a vest.” I suggested, “And do you have any waterproofs?”

 

“You expect me to run in the rain?” Sam scoffed, “Seriously?”

 

“I expect you to run in all weathers.” I stated adamantly, “At least you haven’t got to train through the winter.”

 

“That’s true.” Sam sounded relieved, “Anything else?”

 

“Do you have a sports bra?” I enquired.

 

“I wear one when I go to the gym.” Sam responded.

 

“You wasn’t wearing one when we met for a jog in the week.” I pointed out.

 

“You were looking at my tits?” Sam challenged, trying to sound offended but failing.

 

“Purely in a professional manner. As your coach.” I clarified, with a smile.

 

“Likely story!” Sam giggled, “Well, what did you think of them, my tits I mean?” she continued, trying to embarrass me.

 

“They’re very nice.” I grinned, “But they did bounce a bit as you run and I wouldn’t want you to get ‘jogger’s nipple.”

 

“Jogger’s nipple?” Sam queried with a snigger.

 

“Yes, jogger’s nipple.” I retorted seriously, “It’s a common injury for runners of both sexes. It’s caused when clothing rubs against the sensitive skin of the nipple, much like a friction burn. You may snigger, but it can be very painful; it may even cause bleeding. Prevention is better than cure, and the best preventative measure for women is to wear a correctly fitting sports bra.”

 

“Okay, I’ll get a new one for running.” Sam laughed, “Otherwise I can imagine you’ll be asking to inspect my nipples for injury!”

 

“All part of the coach’s job.” I grinned, “It’s a hard job but someone’s got to do it!”   

 

Sam gave me a playful push by way of a rebuke. We wandered around the store like a couple of mischievous school kids. Sam was a tease and a flirt. I’d not been so happy or relaxed with anyone for years. To think my newfound soul mate was such a young, vibrant beauty. We collected the various items that we had identified. Several times Sam selected clothing that I thought wasn’t suitable and she put it back on the display, but mostly she was sensible with her choices. She even picked out some socks that didn’t have Disney characters on! Eventually we’d got everything she needed.

 

“I suggest you try them on before you buy them.” I advised, “There’s nothing worse than being a  mile into a race only to have your clothing rubbing or chafing and knowing you’ve got another five miles to go.”

 

“Okay.” Sam said, “Will you come with me to ensure they fit correctly?”

 

“I can if you want me to.” I responded, “But only you can tell if they rub or feel uncomfortable.”

 

“I’d be happier, more confident, with you there to give me a second opinion.” Sam stated.

 

There was a sign up indicating a women’s changing area at the back of the store. We made our way towards it. As we went to enter it a stern looking shop assistant with her hair in a tight bun stopped us.

 

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t go in there.” she stated firmly, “It’s females only beyond this point.”

 

“It’s okay. He’s with me.” Sam responded.

 

“I’m sorry Miss. He’ll have to wait here.” the assistant persisted, “The rules are in place to prevent sexual harassment, inappropriate behaviour and voyeurism. I’m sure you understand.”

 

“That’s perfectly reasonable.” I conceded, “I’ll wait here Sam.”

 

But Sam was having none of it.

 

“Is the changing area open-plan or does it have individual cubicles?” she enquired.

 

“There are three cubicles Miss.” the assistant confirmed, “Connected by a communal area.”.

 

“So I can change in the cubicle in privacy, without being seen?” Sam contested, “And I take it there is an area outside the cubicles where my friend can wait?”

 

“Yes Miss.” the assistant admitted, “But we don’t allow men in there without a consent form.”

 

“Consent form?” Sam queried.

 

“Yes Miss.” the assistant said, then went on to explain, “We ask for a consent form to be signed that confirms the relationship between the customer and the man – such as parent, guardian, husband, partner etc. It specifically states that the customer accepts the risk that the person accompanying them may see them in a state of undress. Importantly it indemnifies the store against legal claims if any inappropriate behaviour takes place.”

 

“I’m happy to sign one of those.” Sam declared, “Can I have one please?”

 

“If you are sure, Miss?” the assistant asked, “You are not being coerced into doing something you don’t want to do are you?”

 

“No, nothing like that. I’d like a form please.” Sam replied categorically, “It would be such a shame to have to put this lot back on the shelves simply because I can’t try them on.” Sam added emphatically, holding up the armful of clothes she was carrying.

 

“Indeed Miss.” the assistant responded, concerned that she may lose a lucrative sale, “I’ll get you a form. Of course, you may only go in if the other cubicles are not occupied.”

 

“That’s fair enough.” Sam acknowledged, “Is there anyone in there at the moment?”

 

“I don’t believe there is at the moment Miss.” the assistant replied, “But I will check to make sure before you go in. Once you’ve competed the form, of course.” she added, officiously.

 

The assistant went to a nearby counter, opened a drawer and took out the relevant form. Taking a pen from her top pocket she started to complete the questions. Firstly Sam confirmed her full name and address. Then I had to do the same [for the address part the assistant emphasised pointedly that only need be completed ‘if different’ – which obviously it was]. We then had a discussion as to what ‘relationship’ we should put. We eventually agreed that I would be identified for the purposes of the form as Sam’s ‘personal trainer’. I thought this sounded rather grand and classy. Eventually the assistant reluctantly recognised that as an acceptable relationship. Finally, Sam had to tick a box and sign that she was comfortable for me to see her ‘in a state of undress’. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she signed it; especially when I jokingly asked the assistant if I could keep a copy of the form. Although Sam saw the funny side of my request, the assistant wasn’t amused.

 

Once the due process was completed, and the assistant had checked to ensure there was no one else in there, we were allowed to enter the changing area. As the assistant had indicated, there were three small individual cubicles, each with a mirror, a hook for hanging clothes and a curtain across the front for privacy. The communal area contained three seats, and a full-length mirror at one end. Sam entered the centre cubicle and pulled the curtain across. I sat down on the chair opposite. I noticed straight away that Sam had unintentionally left a small gap between the curtain and the wall of the cubicle. Through this narrow opening I got a tantilising rear view of Sam as she lifted her white tee shirt up and over her head to reveal a plain white bra. Unbelievably she was still in partial view as she undid her jeans and pulled them down so that I got a captivating back view of her tiny white panties and adorably cute bottom. As she bent over to remove her jeans from around her ankles, her bottom poked out of the gap in the curtain; it was barely a yard away from me, and so invitingly slapable. I desperately resisted the urge to reach out, pull her little knickers down and spank it. Sam appeared oblivious to the splendid view she was affording me. I know I should have done the gentlemanly thing and looked away, but as with Alice earlier today, I was mesmerised and just stared, gobsmacked at the view I was being afforded. Needless to say, I was embarrassingly erect again.

 

Then a wondrous thought entered my head. I recalled that some of the clothes that Sam had selected required to be worn next to the skin. To try them on properly would necessitate her to remove her underwear. She wouldn’t, would she? I held my breath in anticipation. Obviously I couldn’t see a great deal of what Sam was doing as she was obscured by the curtain; she seemed to be faffing with her hair. I noticed her hand go up to her back and when I next saw it, it was clutching her white bra. She was topless! I leant to one side and craned my neck so that I maximised my view through the crack in the curtain hoping to get a reflected view of her from the front in the cubicle’s mirror. Disappointingly it remained out of sight. It was so tempting to pull the curtain back to expose Sam whilst she was just dressed in her tiny panties. But I resisted. Then the curtain twitched slightly more open for an instance as Sam took an item of clothing from the hook; during this fleeting moment I got the briefest side view of a bare breast. I just had chance to discern her cute little nipple. Then it was gone again. Even this titillating sight caused my member to swell even more. I crossed my legs to hide it as best I could.

 

Soon after, Sam pulled back the curtain and emerged wearing a running vest over her sports bra, she also wore leggings and shorts.

 

“How do I look?” she asked standing directly in front of me.

 

“You look great.” I admitted, “But that’s not important. It’s how they feel that’s important. Do they feel comfortable? Walk up and down a bit and do some stretching to make sure they don’t rub anywhere.” I instructed.

 

Sam did as I suggested; she looked like a catwalk model.

 

“I can’t feel any rubbing.” she confirmed, “They feel comfortable, and they fit nicely.”

 

“Run on the spot for a couple of minutes to see if the sports bra supports you without chafing.”

 

“Admit it. You only want me to do that so you can watch my tits bounce up and down!” she giggled.

 

“If it’s doing its job I shouldn’t notice them move.” I replied.

 

Sam jogged on the spot for a couple of minutes; her heavenly little breasts stayed perfectly still – disappointingly!

 

“Actually, that feels alright.” she admitted, “They feel much more comfortable. And I can’t feel any rubbing so I shouldn’t be needing any treatment for jogger’s nipple!” she joked.

 

“That’s a shame.” I joshed, “I was looking forward to rubbing in some Savlon.”

 

“Naughty!” Sam giggled, “I do have a confession to make.” she added sheepishly.

 

“Oh, what’s that?” I asked, quizzically.

 

“I left my panties on under my leggings.” she declared as if it was the biggest sin imaginable.

 

“I don’t think you need to.” I confirmed, “They are designed to be worn next to the skin.”

 

“I know.” Sam said, “It’s just I didn’t feel comfortable taking my panties off and being naked with just a flimsy curtain between us. I was worried you may pull the curtain back and see my nunny.” she giggled with nervous embarrassment.

"Nunny?" I questioned, not sure what she was alluding to.

"Nunny - it's what I call my pussy, my kitty, my vulva." Sam explained uninhibitedly.

"Oh, okay." I said, shifting uncomfortably in my chair, "I'd never heard it called that before."

 

“What would you call it then?” she asked forthrightly.

“Pussy?” I offered uncertainly.

 

“Okay. I was worried that you’d pull the curtain back and see my pussy.” Sam chuckled.

“So you don’t trust me?” I asked, feigning indignation, “You realise that trust is vitally important between a trainer and their trainee?”

 

“It’s not that.” Sam said apologetically, “It’s just I’ve not really known you long enough for you to see my nunny - my pussy - just yet.”

 

All this talk of Sam’s ‘nunny’ was extremely arousing. I imagined it to be silky smooth, dainty, neat, tight and adorable. I’d also picked up on the fact that he’d said she wasn’t ready to show it to me ‘just yet’, intimating she might show me it at some point in the future. I desperately hoped it would be soon! Having lectured Sam on honesty and trust being important between us, I thought it best to ‘fess up’ on what I’d seen earlier.

 

“I’ve got a confession to make too.” I admitted, “When you were undressing I got a little peep of your white panties through a gap in the curtain.”

 

“If it was only a glimpse, I don’t mind.” Sam said, “After all, I did sign to confirm I was happy for you to see me in a state of undress. So I can’t really complain.”

 

“That you did.” I smiled.

 

“It’s been quite a day for you seeing young girls’ knickers!” she giggled, “What with Alice this morning and now mine.”

 

“I suppose it has.” I grinned, “Quite a day!”

 

I thought it best not to admit to fleetingly seeing her bare breast too. That may embarrass her just a little too much.

 

“If you’re happy that what I’m wearing is suitable for running I’ll get changed back into my own clothes again.” she said.

 

“I’m happy, if you are.” I confirmed.

 

Sam went back into the cubicle and drew the curtain across; this time making sure there was no gap. As Sam changed I was relieved that my erection subsided; I would be able to stand up now without a visible bulge in my trousers. Sam soon emerged dressed in her white tee and blue jeans. I desperately tried to put out of my mind what I knew she was wearing underneath.

 

We found the shop assistant who seemed less miserable now that she knew we were committing to buy. She rang everything through the till and Sam paid the not inconsiderable bill on her credit card.

 

“Will that be all, Miss, Sir?” she asked as she handed Sam the receipt.

 

“There was just one thing.” I said, “Is it possible to have a copy of that consent form?”

 

“Why, of course sir. I hope that you’re able to put it to good use.” she smiled as she handed it over.

 

“Thank you!” I chuckled as I took it from her, “I hope so too.”

 

“Naughty!” Sam giggled, digging me in the ribs jovially, “If my training goes well I may let you use it again.” she winked teasingly.

 

Having completed Sam’s shopping we headed home. I dropped Sam back at her parents’ house. By way of a thank you, she gave me a little kiss on the cheek as she got out of the car. I made my way back to my place reflecting on what an exhilarating morning I’d had. Sam was just great fun to be with. I went for a run that afternoon, or, more aptly, I went for a jog. I wanted to be my best for Sam; that meant I had to get fitter. It struck me how out of shape I had become. I was definitely carrying too much condition – probably a couple of stone too much condition! My breathing was laboured even at a sedate pace, my heartbeat was much faster than it used to be, even when I was just doing moderate exercise, and my recovery rate was considerably slower. That’s without considering all the muscular aches and pains I was feeling. A couple of times during the morning Sam had jokingly referred to me as ‘Old Man’. Although I knew she was only teasing, the remark was quite cutting and served to remind me of the age difference between us.

Continued.....