Session Five – Love Racism, Hate Running (not me, you understand)

Last night was all a bit whiny really wasn’t it? “Boo hoo, woe is me, bit of rain, all tired out, I’ve got such a crap taste in music it’s made me obese.” Is that what all the fat people use as their excuses?

“Aye mate, I used to be fit as a fiddle then I bought a Steps album at a car boot and I’ve never stopped eating pizza since.”


“Yeah, if the weather was drier where I live I’d be able to sit on toilets made from porcelain as well as just reinforced steel ones.”

Maybe that’s the way of the podge – always someone else’s fault. Blame the Tories. The rich get richer and the fatties get fatter. I’m no fan of right wing politics, so I might not have quite got the hang of things, but that can’t be far off, can it? WeightWatchers have very few links to any socialist/communist revolutions, so it must be. Another reason to hate the fatties – they’re right wing. So the odds are that if you wobble when you jump, you’re a racist.

I’m not though. I guess there’s only one way to prove it and that’s to shift some pounds. I’ll weigh in on Sunday and see if I’ve made any progress on that score, but in terms of distance, tonight I was aiming for the big one. Well, the big two. Two miles that is. And how did I get on?

Smashed it. Could have went another mile, easy. Well maybe not quite. The hill that beat me last night nearly got me again tonight, but I just about struggled up it and onto a slow and difficult last half a mile home. It felt like a struggle and that I paced myself a little bit more slowly tonight, but I hit 2.11 miles in 23 minutes 39 seconds. That’s not far off the sort of pace I’ve been doing my one miles in, so certainly promising.

I also picked up a blister on the way round, so tomorrow could be interesting. I’ll try and hit two miles, but I only need the one which I’m confident will now be a doddle. But the blister? Seriously? I run in my battered old trainers and George at Asda socks all week and my feet are fine, I put a newer, better pair of running trainers on and proper socks and my feet have said no! Is there any part of me that isn’t common as muck? Even my feet are showing resistance to any posh shenanigans. The poncy, self-righteous dicks.

Anyway, I’m delighted. After the disappointment of last night I’ve set out what I wanted to achieve tonight. I know I can run two miles now without stopping, so hopefully next week won’t be as difficult to adjust to. Let’s just hope my feet hold out tomorrow night.

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