Tag team back again!

I got back on the horse. Back on the wagon or back in my trainers…whichever way you want to look at it.

On Monday I embarked on my first three mile run and guess what?

I loved it!

Forgot how much to be honest. All that dread and dragging my daps was for nothing.  As I stretched my brown little legs my stomach was going berserk! Like literally. Remember the first day of comp or your first date or having to speak in front of a load of strangers or even when you consume a wet chicken? Well, that’s what my stomach was doing! I was nervous…for a jog!

I literally shook my head and told myself to get a grip so not only was I the chubby kid in Ponty Park trying to run I was the chubby kid trying to run who’s a bit loopy…  ‘You know, the one who talks to herself?’ people will say. Hell yes! 

And then I set off.

And it was like all my worries and tension just slipped off me and onto the track!

Ha! Who am I trying to kid?

It was bloody hard. After the first mile my head went a superb colour of puce and the sweat! The sweat could have its very own blog!

But, in all honesty I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The weather was good, my soundtrack was good, I was feeling good.

And I’m sure Ponty Park has got smaller cause my timing had miraculously seemed to have improved vastly, Scotty Boy pissed on this theory when he gave a convincing argument that the park would have actually shrunk in the sun. But seriously, I managed three miles in twenty five minutes and with that I stopped to say ‘howdy’ to a homeless person.

I got back to work all smiles and sweat until I realised something was hurting.

Not hurting but stinging.

Being the vain bastard I am, I was adamant I wanted to wear shorts to run in. After all, I’d spent two weeks and a vast amount of money to get my pins this colour. In my haste to hit the road I had forgot to Vas up. What I mean is; I forgot to lube the inside of my thighs and my shorts treacherously rubbed. And when I say rubbed I probably mean chapped. I’d like to give the argument that its not because I’m chubby, its because my shorts sit difficulty but who the hell am I trying to kid (again) its because my legs got, how shall I put it…fleshy!

GOD DAMN ALL INCLUSIVE!

So, I limped home sideways and wondered what to have for tea and when I could go to bed?

But Scotty Boy had other ideas. ‘Let’s go for a walk!’ he said joyously.

‘OK.’ I said, bottom lip stuck right out.

‘But we’ll go when it gets cooler.’ He said.

‘OK.’ I said, lip out even further.

We decided to walk the slip road…or I decided to walk the slip road. Since I’ve been running everyone has banged on about running the slip road to build up my bloody stamina! Bloody stamina is all people worry about when you mention you run and i wanted to know the distance of the beast.

‘Let’s walk down the slip road.’ Scotty Boy said. ‘Its boring walking up it because the cars are going the same way…you don’t see anything.’

‘But, I’ll be running UP it.’

‘Yes, but we’re only walking aren’t we?’

‘OK.’ Even my lip was tired. Pouting takes it out of you.

Now, if I had clicked on…I would have noticed that Scotty Boy was very precise in the time we were leaving, then i would have noticed that half way through the bloody walk he mentioned we’d be passing the Baili and didn’t I want to pick up that thing?

‘What thing?’ I said.

‘You know mun.’ he’d said and again nothing clicked.

When we got to the Baili and he turned right through the doors. He stage slapped his head and said; ‘God, I forgot Man United are playing! Doh!’

Yes ‘doh’ indeed. Why am I not of blonde heritage?

So, I walked four miles, drank four glasses of wine and then went home slightly squiffy and confused to how I’d been ‘mislead.’ I should have been mad but I do love an off the cuff hour in the pub.

When I woke Tuesday I had a slight wine head but the complete opposite to slight pain in my legs!

‘The milk!’ I howled. I hadn’t drank milk after my run…no wonder my muscles were stiff. ‘And its weigh day!’

God, could life get any shittier?

No, in the words of D-ream; things can only get better and better they got.

I LOST FOUR POUNDS!

FOUR POUNDS!

How was this possible?

Broken scales?

Light underwear?

Who cares! I’m at the lowest weight I have been since this whole malarkey started!

Whoop bloody whoop!

I. MUST.STICK. TO. DIET. THIS. WEEK!

I also must start building on my mileage and timing. I told you about the running club didn’t I? So, now it’s serious, now I have to keep up with people…now I’m doing it for charity!

Why couldn’t I have taken up knitting or yoga?

Bloody running my arse! 

Anyway wicked Wednesday has arrived and, technically, according to the plan that has gone way out of the window…I should be doing an eight miler today but the logic and lazy part of my head is saying try a five or even a four.

My legs have other ideas mind.

Watch this pathetic space!