There’s something quite cosy about feeling swaddled in a layer of flab as the winter sets in, but when you can see your cheeks without looking down and your work wardrobe is on a three-frock rotation given the fact that nothing else fits, it’s time to reign it in.
I’m now well over a stone heavier than I was last year. It’s okay to let it slip for a few months but you can’t start whining that you look like the Michelin Man when you strip off if you’re not going to do something about it.
Big Girls Don’t Cry – they just shut the fuck up and get to the gym.
I’ve been gymming since I was 15 years old with varying degrees of dedication but I have never particularly been a runner. If you dangled a block of Manchego cheese or a bag of Tangfastics out of a car window and drove off down the M57 I’m pretty confident I could find a way to catch up, but running for fun?
In fact, I will never forget my first ever run around Sefton Park in Liverpool. It went a little something like this….
Park circumference 3.7km
Lap time: 2 minutes 38 seconds
Actual distance: 0.01km
Feeling: fat and embarrassed
I don’t like not being good at things so I went back every single day fuelled by a non-defeatist determination to beat my last non-stop-distance. It took me six days to be able to finally do a full lap of the park, but I did it. VICTORY!
And so, in my quest for an improved version of myself, I’m setting the bar a little higher this time. I’ve signed myself up to my first ever 10k race in May, the Three Peaks Challenge in June and Tough Mudder in September.
It’s time to go from this to this