Monday, 7 March 2016

It’s not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don’t even exercise.

Monday night, and like an obnoxious twat, I went for a run while Lucy was at Brownies.  It was only an hour, and I managed 7.44 km, which is about 4.6 miles, and while not fast, was up and down hills and all sorts, so I'm feeling pretty smug and pleased with myself. 

I don't know if you know Ealing at all, but there are some biggish hills there, and I ran the whole way because there were no people and things were going well.

I've had a pretty crappy February, with the diet not going very well and the kitchen and the very little running or cycling, and ended up doing a pathetic 45km across 29 days.  Rubbish.  March is already so much better; we're only at the 7th, and I've already managed 24km.  I'm back on the bike tomorrow, after a few weeks off; there will be swearing.  I'm starting to think more about the Ealing Half Marathon, and I'm gearing up to run 10 miles in the next few weeks; along the canal though, as that is flat and easier. I had a route in mind, but it turns out that that one would have been over 20 miles, so better have a rethink.

My massive weight loss has stalled too; nothing like eating normally, although I haven't put anything on and I'm hoping the running will get things going again.  I want to lose 3 pounds this week, as that will take me down into human weight territory, and will mean that I've only got a stone to go.  What fun it all is.

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