People are remarkable. After my last post, there were people lining up to make me feel okay about myself and to give me advice. Several people invited me to train with them and others shared very kind words. I even had someone message me to say how touching that last post was. In fact, my last post drew many comments of support and even heart-warming, constructive ridicule, such as “you’re not fat don’t be silly”; the first thing The Chubber did, clinging desperately to my vanity, was to speak up inside and say hey, we don’t need to diet. We look fine! Listen to these people! Go order a chinese!
I can tell you, as president of the fat people, that even though these comments are wonderful and wholly necessary, they can be the first step to stopping the effort to lose weight. It’s an excuse, and a justification to remain as you are. Well, fat people, if your own little fat monster is saying similar things to you and people’s well-meaning comments are actually damaging your drive to improve, here’s my advice: go straight to the wardrobe and put on a shirt or a pair of trousers that doesn’t fit. That’ll soon get you going, like my Derby County shirt did:
That Derby shirt was a gift to my from my girlfriend’s parents in April. It was a bit snug then, but it fit. Now it’s like cling film. Why are you sweaty? I hear you ask. Well, my ugly mug is all sweaty in that picture because I took it this morning after going for my SECOND RUN.
After my first post, my best buddy Tom text me. He asked me (with a commanding subtext) to join him on a run, to which I responded:
Forgive the casual racism. I know I shouldn’t use the word ‘pikey’, but to be fair to those people wrongfully called that word, I’ve seen one fighting bare-knuchle and it was like watching a hyena choose a pick-and-mix in a butcher’s shop. That’s how much I don’t like running. Or, rather, didn’t. I took on Tom’s challenge and decided to start training right away. I downloaded Map My Run, so that Tom could spy on my achievements and so that I could see his (remember, it’s all about being accountable), and off I went on my first run. I turned left up my hill (a horrid hill), ran to to nearest significant junction, then turned around and came back. It was just shy of 2Km:
It might not seem like much to those skinny, 8-mile running mothertruckers on my Facebook feed, but I was really proud of that. What’s more, I went to the gym later that day and did an hour’s work out. I know what’s going through your head at this point… you’re thinking that it sounds like I’m pushing too hard. Well, you’re right – I went to the gym yesterday afternoon and 50 jumps through my first skipping/ leg-raises double set I was in agony. I was shattered. I stayed for the remainder of the workout but I was tired. With that said, I knew that I’d have to run again on Saturday, as per Tom’s guidance. That’s where the Captain Sweatface further up this post comes in. Anyway, here’s the result of this morning’s run:
YES that is over double the amount of my first run! YES that is a better average pace! I basically got the junction where I turned around on my first run and thought, I’m not turning around; I’m gonna turn right. So I did. I won’t lie – it was horrible, but that the same time, I loved it. I think, for the first time, I saw the other side of that wall that runners talk about. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I’m sure that my average pace could be better, and I’m sure that 4km is nothing against some runners, but I never stopped and walking accounted for less than 10% of that journey. Fact. I’m proud of me. I am rebelling against a nasty little beast that controls me. He makes me want to smoke, eat McDonalds and dunk lots of biscuits in lots of tea. Running, with the guidance of friends, and exercising in clothes that are too tight is my strategy. A mixture of shame and pride with an iron will are going to get me there.
I will beat my chubber into submission.
Thanks for stopping by.