I’m trying to get fit. Unfortunately I’m failing miserably.
I don’t really enjoy exercise. I’m not convinced that anyone does. Exercise is something you do to get fit, and if you’re doing it, it’s because you’re unfit, therefore, exercise is most certainly alien to you, making it uncomfortable, painful and often a little humiliating. Those people who are already fit partake in “activities”. (This could be mistaken for exercise by those of us who are new to a healthy lifestyle, because it involves moving quickly and invariably getting out of breath). The thing is, for these “fit” people, running at 5:30am on a cold December morning before going to work, or playing squash after an 8 hour day at the office, is as enjoyable as an Eastenders omnibus and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough is to us non-fit freaks. They get a kick out of it because it’s something they enjoy doing with their time. They’re not doing it to keep fit, they’re doing it because they like it!! (Weird, I know)
I was inspired to start jogging by Mel Gibson...well actually, some clever Hollywood writer who came up with the Nike ad campaign presentation spiel that his character delivers in the film What Women Want:
"...you can call on the road, whenever you feel like it, whether it has been a day, or even a couple of hours since your last date. The only thing the road cares about is that you pay it a visit once in a while. Nike, no games, just sports."
Well, I was sold on the idea of running - although I’ve yet to buy any Nike trainers. I was primed and ready to go. No stopping me. Oh yes! I’d seen those loony joggers running at stupid-o-clock every weekday morning with their dogs and high-vis vests (to be fair I’d contemplated mowing a few of them down with my car, for being so smug and “in shape”) and by the power of Greyskull I was going to be one of them! So, I donned my beaten up trainers, my comfy joggers, for the safety of myself and anyone around me, my underused and almost in brand new condition sports bra, put the dog on his lead, and headed out.
Right, well first off...where the hell do these joggers get dogs that are happy to run alongside them in an obedient fashion? Are they real dogs or just dogs on wheels like “Rowdy” from Scrubs? If I wasn’t being pulled zig-zag style across the park by my little bruiser of a pooch, I was being dragged to a sudden halt when the urge to pee against every lamp post, bush and tree stopped him in his tracks. Plus, has anyone actually ever tried jogging on the spot whilst trying to poop-scoop? Hmm? Have they?
Secondly...where do these loony’s get their confidence? At what stage can you consider yourself an actual jogger and not feel like a fraud for being out there and trying to get fit? I couldn’t fake my jogger status. It couldn’t have been clearer that this was my first attempt at running outside of a gym if I’d worn a flashing neon sign stating “LEARNER JOGGER – KEEP YOUR DISTANCE: Sudden Breaking Down, Followed By Sobs of Frustration, Humiliation and Small Asthma Attacks”
I’ve done a few of these runs now, and I honestly don’t think I can imagine a day when I don’t go out there and worry that I look like a complete prat when I’m running. On the plus side though, the humiliation does give you an incentive to get home when all you really want to do is lie down in the middle of the path and die a hideous, sweaty, raspy, wheezy undignified death.
Well I guess the answer to my question is that I’ll only find out if I stick at it...then maybe I’ll wake up one day and start being concerned about improving my time rather than just being concerned that I look like a complete plank. But... if you ever see me in a high-vis vest, just shoot me will you? As it means I’ve got far too big for my boots!
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