We're up and running

But, I’m pleasantly surprised at how I am at least able to move one leg in front of another in something you could call a run, even if it is quicker to walk, or be dead.

We started the regime a couple of weeks ago with a run around the city centre, which went okay, but it was quickly obvious that I am not up to the pace of the other guys in the group, mainly because they are not carrying an extra six or seven stones with them.

I was thinking about this the other day. In my mind, I think I am actually fitter than most people, because if you can run for half an hour(ish), with the equivalent of a primary school child strapped to your back, you must be pretty fit right? Which means when I am puffing and panting my way round Queen Square or the waterfront, I am not actually just another  fat b*stard who can’t run, I actually have the strength, stamina and fitness of a Royal Marine. Well, a bit of delusion doesn’t hurt the morale does it?

This week I went out running with my girlfriend instead, and we went about four and a half miles in each session, which we thought was pretty good.

It did take an hour and 15 minutes, which would give me a half marathon time of about six hours or something stupid, but considering it is just after Christmas, and it is just the worst weather and time of year to run, I think it is a good start.

I have done some running in the past, including a number of half marathons, some of which I trained for more seriously than others, so all the pain and misery of training in the winter came flooding back on Thursday night, as we headed out across the suspension bridge.

It wasn’t long before I started to whine  and moan about the pain of running and the rain and the dark, and I seriously wondered whether I had bitten off more than I could chew by signing up to the half marathon, which is now something like eight weeks away.

I think I probably have, I mean, who the hell am I kidding, it takes months for somebody in my shape to train for a 13 mile run, not a few weeks plodding round the city centre trying to avoid cyclists with no lights.

But, after the run I felt better, mainly because I was back inside the warmth of my flat, but also because I could at least keep going, despite the bleeding nipple which had made a right mess of my replica England shirt, (I had forgotten about the importance of getting properly lubed up).

Of course the main point of all of this is to use the running as a way to lose weight, which has been slow going of late. I just hate this month when it seems dark all the time and if it’s not freezing cold it’s pouring with the kind of rain which follows you round like somebody spraying a shower at you.

The fat fighters meeting was the acid test when I would at least be able to chuck in the running if it wasn’t doing any good, but I am pleased to say I have lost a pound and a half this week and I am down to 17 st 3 lbs – almost back to where I was before the Christmas bingeing.

In reality that had more to do with me taking all the loose change  and sets of keys out of my pockets before I got on the scales, but even so it is going the right way.

We are in the foothills of Everest here, it’s a bloody long way to the top, but even if it is to be pound by pound, I will get there.