After my decision to sign up for the Birmingham Half Marathon in October, I spent some of the weekend preparing to start training. I went food shopping and made a plan of healthy meals for the week, I downloaded the necessary apps onto my phone and I created an epic playlist of songs that will hopefully keep me motivated and uplifted as I’m trudging my way around the park. And yes, I included the Rocky theme. Why? Because I actually attempted to run up the same steps that he did when I visited Philadelphia in 2010, and only made it about a third of the way up before I had to stop, catch my breath and walk the rest of the way as I was so unfit, so it serves as a reminder that I need to get moving.
I decided to start with the 5K fitness plan that I have used before. After some searching, (and after going to watch Avengers: Age of Ultron at the cinema, which was awesome by the way), I located my running gear, charged my phone and did my stretches. I was surprised at how nervous I was – I’ve done this many times before, but I think that it’s different because I am actually training for something rather than just to build up my fitness levels and I have made myself accountable by letting everyone know what my intentions are. Indeed, today I was going to channel my inner Forrest Gump.
My five minute warm up walk had been fantastic. The weather was beautiful and I felt psyched, ready to pound the pavement, and I was loving the tracks that I had blasting into my eardrums. When the ‘start’ beep began, I started to jog at a leisurely pace, then walked, then jogged at the timed intervals that my app suggested. I realised that it was going to be a lot more difficult than I had anticipated, and my positive attitude quickly evaporated once I had reached the first walk/run cycle. I hated every single second of the rest of the journey. I know that my body is carrying extra weight, but I felt heavy – it seemed really difficult to lift my feet off the floor.
Twenty -five minutes and less than two miles later, I arrived back at my door. My face was purple, I was struggling for breath and I had sweat pouring from places that I didn’t know could sweat. My legs were already giving me and indication that I am going to be a little sore tomorrow and all I could do was gasp at The Bloke and asked him to get me a glass of water while I collapsed on the couch and coughed and spluttered on an unsuspecting cat, who was rather indignant at having her sleep interrupted.
Gorgeous. Forrest Gump, I am not. Not yet, anyway.
However, it’s a start, and everyone has to start somewhere. I’ve set myself a challenge, and I’m going to bloody well do it. I just wish that it was possible to lose weight and get fit by eating chocolate and watching television instead, which would be far more fun!
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