Time to get fit

Well it looked like it was going to be a great day. I had decided that it was time to get fitter and lose some weight. After all, it’s three months now since I stopped smoking. (Takes a bow). And I have gained weight to the point where I have been searching for jeans with elasticised backs. I need Evans for men. I nearly bought a lovely pair of maternity jeans from Ebay but they only had them with the zip at the side.

Spent the morning charging the I-Pod and finding anything else to do. I even helped tidy the house up. I hovered and polished. Eventually I could find nothing else to fill my time, so I got my unusually tight tracksuit bottoms on and sorted out my trainers.

This was the point when I realised I was in a bad way. I bent down to tie my left shoe lace and nearly passed out with exhaustion. I would have never managed a double knot. I actually had to hold my breath because I couldn’t breathe properly while attempting a double over loop. I contemplated shouting Carol to tie them for me. I decided I wouldnt be able to take the cockney ridicule. Note to self: Check out trainers with velcro fasteners.

My route was the triangle that circumnavigates Long Eaton. It is probably about three to four miles.

I decided on a walk / run philosophy. Run (jogging with style) as far as I can, then walk, then, and complete three circuits. I estimated it should  take about two hours. Back home, ice bath, get a leg massage and generally feel good about myself. Then do it again tomorrow.

I started running. I realised that something had happened. I have reached an age where I have started running like an old fat man. (see picture below which is scaryingly how I feel). This was depressing. Especially when someone offered to help me across the road.

My face was getting red; steam was actually rising from my head. My legs were lifting less than a centimetre from the floor. I looked like that person who has hit the wall in the marathon after running just over 22 miles. I had run 43 yards and was still on my own street. Then the realisation hit me like badly driven train. I am over the hill. I can actually walk for a bus quicker than I can jog.

Five years ago when jogging, if I happened to run past a pretty lady my speed would quicken to a semi-pro pace, one foot would lightly grace the terraferma as the other quickly sprung me upwards and onwards like a gazelle. I would hold my belly in for the entire run past while expertly thrusting my pelvis foward during the spring. Then when out of site I would sit down and puke.

Now, I just wear a disguise of a big woolly hat and large mirrored sunglasses.

However

I have done it, three times,round the big block. I am so knackered I don’t even have the energy to wipe my own arse, should the need arise. The ice bath is never going to happen. I've been through enough pain. I feel as though I should have lost about four stone. I have to go and rub sudocrem or whatever it’s called round the top of my legs (between balls and thigh). I am suffering with ball chaffing, a sore right nipple and a slight pulling feeling in my hamstrings. My inner brain (I named him after Mr T) is calling me, ‘You Fool!’
This getting fit and thin looks so easy on the change for life adverts.

But

I will try again tomorrow, so if you see someone who looks like he has escaped from an assisted needs home for  middle aged male victims of food abuse then just share a thought and for fuck sake,

Offer me a lift.

(btw the pic isn't me)