7 Weeks & Counting...

The count down has begun, training schedules have been released and it is only seven weeks to go until my 10k run through Battersea. On printing out my desired schedule, my first thought was, 'Oh, fuck!'

I was hoping to enter in as an intermediate runner, planning to finish in little over an hour, but considering how out of touch I am and due to the fact I know in my heart I cannot stick to this plan they have created, I have had to opt for defeat and go with the beginners schedule.

But all is not lost. I managed to do two runs last week, although I don't know if you can count the first as a run - I managed a poultry 2k before slowing to a fast walk, which I had to endure for the last 1.5k as my knee was saying no, no, no! But, after getting my super shiny brand new trainers delivered on Friday, I decided I just had to test drive these at the weekend - and what a difference they made! Granted I'm still incredibly out of shape compared to six weeks ago, but I managed a whole 4.5k without stopping and my knee was barely twinging when I got back home - hurrah! Excluding the fact it took me almost 40 minutes to run and I most probably could have walked the last half km faster than I ran it, I still did it and pushed through.

Onwards and upwards as I have said before - even if it takes me three hours on the day, I am determined to get across the finish line, be it running, jogging, hobbling or crawling on all fours.....

The Youth of Today

Have you ever had one of those clearly defining moments in time, when almost like a light bulb switiching on, you suddenly wake up and think to yourself - what the hell am I doing?

I had one of these Eureka moments on Saturday. It was one of my friends birthday and she wanted to see her last twenty-something birthday out in style, by having a few bevvies with close friends, rounding of the night with a boogie somewhere to see in the small hours.

We started off in a perfectly nice bar, made even better by the two-for-one offers on some very refreshing Mojitos. Granted it was a bit rucus in there, being Camden, but it was a lively rucus which we took great delight in blending into. Then it was decided after departing the bar, we would head on down to the Electric Ballrooms - and from here, I can honestly say, it all went a Pete Tong.

Don't get me wrong, it was still a laugh to be out and about, but I seriously felt like a fish out of water and couldn't help but look about me thinking what mad house have I landed in? I think it's safe to say we were definitely one of the older groups in the club and I have to say the other girls in there were rather shameless. I know it's the done thing to be out having a laugh when your young, but I'm sure I was never that bad at that age.

I got to see arse cheeks galore where the skirts didn't cover the underwear - and in some cases I'm sure there wasn't even any underwear involved. There were a fair selection of the - shall we say - larger ladies, who were clearly wearing clothes two sizes too small (I'm all for being confident in your own skin, but there are certain things that just should not be displayed, rolls of body fat and beer bellies being just that!) and don't get me started on the binge drinking. I saw one particular girl who was swigging pints of beer, got dragged outside by her mate to puke all over the pavement, as well as herself and her mate in the process, then come sauntering back in to carry on drinking and even copped off with a bloke in the corner. Since when has pebble dashing been a glamourous look, especially when it is smeared down your chin and in between your clevage???

It was quite a relief to get out and back into the norm of reality. Maybe I'm just getting too old for this crap and really am turning into my mother, but give me a good old cocktail bar anyday, with a bit of live music and a nice chilled relaxed atmosphere. At the end of the day, self-decency and respect costs nothing ladies......you'll thank me one day - when you get as old and wise as I am!!!

Sweaty Betty Returns

After spending the last five weeks being a total couch potato, I have finally had my MRI results back and been given the all clear to start introducing exercise again. It is a total relief to know I can start working towards a goal again, to focus on getting my fitness levels back up to scratch.

A very good friend of mine has given me some strengthening exercises to do. After shattering her knee cap she was advised to work on developing her quad & hamstring muscles which takes pressure away from the knee.
My strengthening exercises have now commenced and I even managed to attempt an upper body work out this morning. I was quite appalled at how much my stamina has fallen. My back is aching, my arms feel like I have been in a boxing ring with a pro and where as a few weeks back I wouldn't even have broken into a sweat - this morning I was well and truely a sweaty betty!

But, I shall focus on the positive in that I have taken my first baby step on the road to recovery and fitness. I felt like a little kid at Christmas, all excited at the prospect that I shall soon be up and mobile again, putting my trainers through there paces once more.

Hopefully by the time July rolls round this sweaty betty will be a fully functioning glowing jogger once more!

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Patience Is A Virtue

As the good old saying goes, 'Patience is a virtue'. I am vast coming round to the notion that this really doesn't apply to me and whoever came up with such a stupid proverb deserves a hardy clip round the head.

Seriously, patience is not a virtue - not when you've been holed up for the past month incapacitated by a dodgy knee, itching to get back out into the world of self punishment, aka, exercise! Now the weather is getting nicer, I am tortured everywhere I go of super fit people out jogging, or cycling or just plain walking.

I want to join in so badly, I actually think I am getting adrenalin withdrawal symptoms. My muscles feel like jelly and it is getting to the point where I may have to start breathing in to get my button done up soon, how shameful. As much as I am ready to go, my knee is still saying no. It is not fun when your walking along and you have a hot pain flaring up into your thigh, or when all of a sudden your knee just buckles underneath you out of protest. The latter option is also rather uncool when you've stopped at a traffic light and end up landing yourself propped against the person next to you. This is when you hope a cheesy 'sorry' smile and fluttered eyelashes will stop them shouting abuse at you.......oh dear!

It feels like this last week has been going backwards since I had my MRI scan, waiting for the results to say 'yay' or 'nay'. The worst thing of all is knowing that even when I get the results, even if there is nothing fundamentally wrong, it will still take at least another 3-4 weeks to be able to do some serious damage control and regain a certain amount of flexibility and staminer.

Hopefully soon I shall get the answer I want, then this lard arse will be a depressed chubby couch potato no more. Oh, woe is me! In the words of Marjory at fat fighters club, "Dust anyone?!"

Alcoholic? Moi?

Oh dear, it's happened again. I am starting to wonder if I have a drinking problem - in that I just can't say no. It's a tragedy waiting to happen, but at the time always seems like a good idea......until the hangover & dehydration kicks in. Then I remember why I said the previous time, "Never again....."

After travelling up to Norfolk and having a very civilised barbecue with some of my sisters friends and a few bottles of bud, it was decided that after they left and due to the fact my sister didn't want to drink, it was only fair that I kept by bro happy by having a few drinks with him instead. Not that I took that much persuading, but a few drinks turned into the whole bottle of Jack, plus a few extra bottles of bud before crashing into bed at 6am.

Did I feel rough the next day? Not half, but it was a great night. I got introduced to the world of guitar hero, which is highly hilarious watching someone drunk trying to strum the life out of a plastic guitar, whilst we was both attempting to sing along with the tunes. This was followed by Metallica & Pearl Jam playing in concert (and a very in depth discussion about why Eddie Vedder is a hottie) before chilling out to Incubus (and another in depth discussion from my brother-in-law why Brandon Boyd is a mans man!!) and chatting away to the small hours. When you start to see day light breaking outside and you can hear the birds chirruping, that's when you know you've had enough (also the fact we had run out of drink had a great deal to do with it too....)

I managed to get about one and half hours sleep before being woken up by niece who insisted I just had to go and watch Peppa Pig with her. Kids really don't understand the meaning of the word 'hungover'. When I said 5 more minutes and attempted to role over I got a very sharp elbow in my ribs and got the duvet whipped away. After stumbling down the stairs and somehow managing to assemble some form of breakfast for her, I thought I would be able to catch some zzz's whilst she watched her programme. No. Every time I so much as shut my eyes, I got a giant sized fluffy thumper smacked into my face.

That's not to mention the overwhelming drama of feeling well enough to stand in the shower without passing out or acting like a comatose zombie right through the next day.....Ah well, what can I say? In the words of my brother, "Epic night....lol!"