Top ten reasons to Get up off your arse today.
About twelve years ago, I started running.
Some things you need to know about this are;
It wasn’t easy. I am not naturally athletic. I was a bit tubby. I like watching telly.
Prior to this, I enjoyed the odd packet of Silk Cut and I drank too much. I spent my life at work or in the pub. We used to walk past coffee shops and shout,
“OY, THE FUCKING PUB IS OPEN! WHY ARE YOU IN THERE?” At people we didn’t know for fun.
I’m like most women, I enjoyed hockey and netball at school but wasn’t especially good at either. I hated cross country. I couldn’t throw, so I was always the last to be picked for rounders. Someone once shouted that I had corned beef legs whilst I was playing hockey and this seriously fucked with my head. After school, I just stopped exercising. My weight went up if I was content and happy, and went down if I was anxious, worried or unhappy. As I went through my late twenties and early thirties, I put a bit of timber on (that’s an understatement) and it stayed there. I had a body like a barrel. It (the barrel) stayed there for too long. It made me fucking miserable because I couldn’t buy the sort of clothes that I wanted to.
Can I just state the bleeding obvious here. I’m not having a go at people who embrace their curves, enjoy being larger or feel that fat is a feminist issue. I’m saying that I didn’t enjoy being overweight and pretty unhealthy.
And then one day, I sort of realised that if I wanted to have kids, I’d need to lose some weight, give up going out boozing all the time and stop smoking.
I started with swimming and lost some weight.
I’ve had three children. After giving birth to all of them, I was between twelve and a half to thirteen stone. In between each pregnancy, I managed to get back down to a size twelve.
This was down to Running, and the delights of a Davina DVD.
Running is a pastime that I told myself I couldn’t do for over thirty five years. We sometimes tell ourselves that we can’t do things because we are scared to try them. We are scared that we won’t be that good or worse still that people might laugh at us.
I can remember thinking before I had kids that I would always be overweight. I gave in to the negative thoughts and let them consume me.
I’ve never been thin, I’ve always wanted to be a size eight but I’m not built that way. I’d say that I’ve spent most of my adult life as a size fourteen, wanting to be a twelve. At my biggest, though I have been a size eighteen. My sister is naturally much slimmer than me and I was always very envious of her. I wanted bony bits and I never had them. Try as we might, us women, we are always envious of someone’s curves or slenderness, big boobs or little. I am very hung up on body image as I suspect lots of other women are too.
At the age of thirty eight, I did my first 10k. A year later, I had done my first half marathon. When I hit forty. I did my one and only marathon. I trained by myself, it was lonely and boring. I raced by myself. It wasn’t much fun.
Naturally, I had lied to myself. Running marathons is horrific but addictive. It wasn’t my one and only. I’ve just booked to do my seventh. This is because I didn’t give up and then I made friends with people who were a lot better at Running than me and enjoyed my incessant moaning, turning up late and being naughty.
Last week, I started Yoga. Tomorrow, I’m going to try Reggaecize. I Believe that they are going to teach me to twerk.
What I’m trying to say is this.
“Get your arse off the fucking sofa and try something new! Give Running a try, take up badminton, squash, boxing or boot camp.
Don’t give in, if you’ve just had a baby or you’ve just eaten one too many cream cakes because you’ll be a bit tubby and miserable.
Over the years, I have tried Boxing – fucking great fun but I pissed myself whilst skipping and couldn’t do sit ups.
Kettle bells, they wouldn’t let me go back because I was dangerous to the other participants.
Step aerobics, they wouldn’t let me go back because I was a danger to myself.
Swimming, I look like I’m drowning.
Boot camp – I don’t like mud on my hands. I parked in the dogging car park and everyone laughed at me.
Tennis, no seriously – it’s not funny. I have no hand and eye coordination.
I have tried going to the gym. Despite it being full of size eight toned, athletic, tanned pretty women that didn’t seem to sweat, I finally got used to it and almost started to enjoy it until I bumped into an ex boyfriend after I’d been on a running machine. I never went back.
Back to reasons to get up off your arse.
I promised ten.
Exercise gives you endorphins
You will meet new people and make friends.
If you need to lose weight, it will help.
It helps with anxiety and depression
If you’re outside, you’ll get a tan
You can buy trainers and nice leisurewear
You could become a Running wanker!
You can moan about shit to people and they have to listen.
You get medals and stuff for finishing races.
You get out of the house and away from your kids for an hour or so.
Some of this stuff is actually free! Well – Running is!
And if you think “I can’t” then consider this.
There is always someone worse than you. The very fact that you tried something makes you a better person that the one that is still sat on their arse, on the sofa.
I am possibly one of the worst runners within my group of regular Running buddies but I’m better than other people. It’s not about that though (apart from on race day). It’s about getting out there in your new Asics trainers at 5.30 am.
We have a group called “Run Bitch Run” if you require any encouragement with starting running.
It’s ace, we have beginners, intermediate and advanced running wankers.