Not bad for a chubby one!

Not Bad For a Chubby One

25.06.12

So, D day has finally arrived. Its not that I’ve been putting this day off, I haven’t even really dreaded it until I woke this morning with one word spinning around my brain. Bollocks!

Training begins today; 25/6/12.

Training.

Running.

I started running back in the dark month of January. After a day out with the boyfriend just before Christmas I noticed that a fat girl in the corner of a bar, we were at, had the same top on as me, after closer inspection I realised she had the same jeans on as me too and then to my complete shock horror she appeared to have an identical haircut to me. Yes, that fat girl was indeed my reflection!

Something had to give.

Then came Christmas Eve and I found myself staring at Scotty Boy down on his knee with the prettiest heart shaped engagement ring.

‘Well then?’ he’d said all doe eyed and perfect.

‘Of course I will.’

I didn’t want to be a fat fiancée and I certainly didn’t want to be a fat bride!

So, it was decided, between me and my painfully honest brain that the diet and the running would begin in January.

It was January the 6th when I first laced up my neglected daps and braved the cold for a ‘wee’ jog. And ‘wee’ it was. I managed a feeble lap of the Oval (a park near my abode) which measures in about a third of a mile and I had walk fast’ish in parts of that.

Shit.

As I panted and prodded my stitch, I was frankly, mortified. What the hell had I been doing to myself?

I was unfit, unbalanced, chubby as hell and one lazy twenty six year old.

My head felt like it was about to explode in my bobble hat and my legs wobbled in my too tight leggings.

‘How did it go?’ Scotty boy asked, amused, as I sort of fell through our door. I plopped myself on our hallway floor, unable to speak. I resembled a sweaty, sports clad, fat, starfish!

‘I’m doomed.’ I managed between heavy breaths. ‘Doomed.’

After I composed myself and consumed around two litres of water I started with the excuses. It was cold, getting dark, a little frosty, it was only the first attempt, I’d go further tomorrow, my knee niggled, and there was a serial killer behind me.

‘If you don’t want to do it,’ Scotty Boy had said reasonably, ‘don’t do it?’

And it was there I made the choice. I would do it, I would show Scotty Boy, I would show the world! (I have a tendency to over dramatise, I won’t apologise for that.)

The next day I was stiff and awkward but I managed a bit further and so my running story began.

By March I completed my first 10K for Sport Relief and I was, with no doubt, absolutely hooked. I lost twenty one pounds, in weight not cash, and was feeling healthy, happy and ready for more.

In the April I ran from Abercynon up to Merthyr which measured in about eight miles. As I turned the corner to see Scotty Boy, who was waiting patiently for me, I was hit full force with such emotion I began to cry.

‘What’s up Babe?’

I felt such a sense of achievement I was overwhelmed by something I hadn’t felt before. Pride. I had completed an eight mile run, off my own back.

It was time to get serious.

I signed up for the Cardiff half marathon that is held in the middle of October and then running before I could, well run! I signed up for the Edinburgh Marathon that is in May next year.

‘Go on girl!’ was the general response, but then for some odd reason because I signed up for these runs, I stopped bloody running!

OK, so it wasn’t as black and white as that, I had a few social events which sadly put me back a few weeks. There was my birthday, then a wedding, then Royal Ascot, oh and the cheeky week in Zakynthos! Although in my defence I did do a few three milers out there! (Struggled.com)

So, the training plan was devised via about three million websites and as many books.

The twenty one week plan, should, and I say should in a dubious voice, have me marathon fit by 

November the 21^st.

This is probably a good time to mention I work full time as a support worker at a homeless hostel, I’m attempting to write my fourth novel and, and, and I am a full time fiancée! This is going to be fun.

I have decided to document this journey for several purposes; to track my ongoing progress, or lack of, to have an outlet to vent emotions, plans, and anything I think worthy of noting. But overall, I want to share my experience and make it clear that if I can achieve these goals, any bloody body can!

Back to D day; Now, I read somewhere you should never start anything on a Monday, apparently, your setting yourself up to fail. My training plan specifically indicates that Mondays are rest days, so the way I look at it, is anything I do today will be a bonus.

I’m actually off work today but also have a list the length of my nearly toned leg, of menial things I have to attend to. E.g; register with a new GP, clean the abode, walk the dog, edit three chapters, catch up with Big Brother, wait for the delivery guy, clean myself, blah, blah, blah.

I have set a little amount of time aside for a possible three mile jog but we will see….