Run #1: When did my legs turn to concrete?

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT

I’m meant to walk briskly for 5 minutes, then alternate running for 60 seconds and walking for 90, for a total of 20 minutes.

Thoughts that ran through my head:

  • I can’t do this.
  • I’m not crying, you’re crying
  • Ooh, I’m halfway through
  • I look stupid
  • My legs hurt
  • I can’t do this
  • Why are my legs like concrete?

I need to download the Rocky soundtrack.

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Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

 

I don’t like my body very much. I feed it too many biscuits, too much wine and far too much cheese, and then I have the temerity to be ashamed of it.

I have been overweight for most of my life, apart from  when I had just moved to London and was renting a room from an emotionally abusive relative. I lost about 5 stone if not more in as many months, living on black coffee and marlboros, utterly miserable. I hated where I was staying, I hated my job, and I had absolutely no idea of how to get myself out of the situation. But, hey, I fit into a pair of size 12 combats, wasn’t that special!!

When I eventually moved into my own place and got a new job the weight crept gradually back on. A lady in the office got pissed one Friday night and told me I’d ‘have ever such a pretty face if it wasn’t so fat’.

Honestly, if you’ve ever in your life told someone they ought to lose weight, have a long hard think about why you felt such an urgent need to say something. Now think about whether you considered the other persons feelings before offering whatever nugget of wisdom fell out of your mouth. Believe me, we know we’re fat, we don’t need you to point it out for us!

Over the last 10 years I’ve yoyoed between sizes 16/18 and 22/24. I did Weightwatchers for a while, before getting pissed off with the Smuggy McSkinnypants who insisted Diet Coke was better for me than half an avocado.  I did Paul McKenna’s creepy hypnotherapy cd. I did something like Atkins that involved huge quantities of butter but no fruit.

I did everything except exercise.

Now, I don’t know if  you know this, but it turns out exercise is brilliant. I mean, it’s awful and it makes you ache and no one looks good flailing around on a cross trainer and your belly jiggles about and I’m missing the gene that makes you look elegant and gazelle-like when you run, but goddammit it makes you feel good in the end.

So I don’t know why I don’t do it more. Yes I do. I’m lazy and I care too much that I look like a tonker running out in public, and it’s easier to eat crisps than go out in the cold, but once I get into it, I really enjoy it. So I’m hoping that by making ‘Run 5k’  my April challenge, I might actually do it this time.

 

April: Keep on Running

I’m going to tug on your heartstrings.

Last year I got totally thrown under the bus in a work situation. Where I could accept some of the accusations being slung at me, the one that really kept me awake at night was being asked what I wore to sales meetings and why I’d stopped going to the gym.

In a professional environment I was called an overweight slob.

The result? I went out that night and got totally ruined, spent the next 2 days hungover as shit, the next 2 days after that reliving the meeting in my head (although in those versions I was able to stand up for myself) and on the 5th day I met up with Exposing 40, took my clothes off and let her take photographs of me in bra, knickers and a pair of high heels, which she then posted on her fabulous body positivity blog.

The day after that I rejoined the gym and spent nearly 3 months on the treadmill following the Couch to 5K programme. With various stops and starts I got to Week 7, which was running continuously for 25 minutes. Not bad for Chubby McLarderson.

Then the clocks went back, I had to cut back on all my expenditures and I cancelled my gym membership. It was too cold and dark to run outside and I decided that staying on the sofa eating pasta at night was far nicer than going out in the cold.

Yes, I went out on Boxing Day ‘for a run’ but in reality I probably ran for less than 2 minutes all in. The rest of it was spent yomping around trying to figure out why running outside after 6 weeks of doing nothing but eat cake was so difficult.

But the clocks have gone forward now and I need a new challenge for April. So I’m going to start again on the C25K and I’d quite like to finish it this time. It’s a 9 week programme, but figured this will kickstart me for a month (and maybe I’ll get back in a bit of shape before the May challenge, more about that later on).

Onwards!

 

Erm

So back at the beginning of the month I may have typed the words ‘Happiness is a choice’, then boldly stated that I was going to take a picture every day of something that made me happy.

Right. Didn’t do that then.

Why not? Well, a couple of times I was having too much fun and forgot to take a photo of the fun I was having.

A couple of times I was so bummed out with work, house, work, finance, work, allergies, work that all I wanted to do was curl up on my bed and hide from everyone (yes, I know that many, many people are far worse off than I am, and my first-world problems and I should check our privilege).

Most of the time I was just carrying on with the business of carrying on.

I sat down last night to write a post about Happiness and is it really a choice, and failing on a challenge, and is it really failure so long as you get back on to it and carry on with something, and all sorts of self-justifying crap.  Then The Avengers came on the telly and I watched that instead.

Happiness and Failure are big concepts. Big subjective concepts with positive and negative connotations that put equal amounts of pressure on an individual. Happiness for me is being alive, having a pet, and living in an age where we have Cards Against Humanity. Failure is a lot darker. Failure would be having to live in the village I grew up in, doing the same dull job every day, being at the beck and call of other people. Ironically, this is the life that a former friend describes as making her happiest. So what do I know, really?

Failure is suggests finality. So instead of saying I failed my March Challenge, I’m going to say I didn’t do the challenge very well in March. And I’ve started April early.

 

 

Day… ?? Not a Scooby.

So, turns out I’m not great at finding happiness. Last week was crap, and I couldn’t be arsed to find any silver linings.

This week is better, but I keep forgetting to take pictures cos I’m too busy being in the moment.

So here’s a picture of where I am, right now, waiting for my mate to say goodnight to his son.

image