It’s Saturday morning and I’m standing in the middle of Osterley Park, west London, between my mum and dad, getting ready for the weekly parkrun. My dad is jogging on the spot, my mum is doing the same. I am thinking how do I get out of this? Both of them are full of energy, encouraging me to get warmed up. All I want is a chocolate and nice masala chai – my favourite spicy tea. I hear the countdown, getting nervous now, and off we go. My dad has sped ahead and with his hand he signals to me to keep up. Behind me is my mum. I can’t go anywhere, they are both watching me and I will have to finish this run stuck between them. Finally, we get to the finishing line and I’m shattered. My dad can do a 5km in 33 minutes. I can barely do it in 45. My mum and I walk and run together.
Later on my dad will encourage me to do some skipping, and Mum will get me hula-hooping. This, along with their nutritional advice, has been my daily routine for the past six months. Who needs expensive personal trainers when I can turn to Mum and Dad?