Tuesday is my favourite day. Shortly after dropping off my eldest daughter at nursery I jump back into the car and make my way to Pollok Park, complete with dog and baby (but perhaps not in that order).
Once at Pollok Park I sling up my daughter, release the hound and off we go.
I am always slightly baffled if people tell me that they don’t often go to Pollok Park, or worse, that they don’t really like it. It’s akin to being a New Yorker and hating Central Park.
I have quite a history with Pollok Park: long brisk walks with the dog; my first ever 10k; many park run 5ks flogging an elusive PB; and nowadays, pootling about in the play park or strolling to visit the cows.
If I’m honest, the latter is the hardest for me. For much as I love my 2 year old, I miss those fast, energetic walks from when she was wee and easy to transport, and even before that, from when it was just us and the dog.
To super-dedicated mums it might sound bad: being frustrated by a lack of motion. But since my early twenties I’ve had a thirst, a yearning, and moreover a need to move and to move often.
Sadly I have been thwarted in that desire more than I like to admit. The seemingly endless sports injuries have put paid to any serious running commitment and that’s been hard to reckon with.
Thankfully, getting a dog has been a constant motivation to just get back out there and get on with it. Hard as that may be on the days when every other person is lycra-clad and a blur of pink and yellow.
So yes, it may be harder to keep ourselves moving these days. But the mewls and I can still snatch our moments. And the best of those are in Pollok Park.