You see what happens? Swim 40 lengths and it takes until Sunday to recover enough to blog again!
Actually, seeing as I've turned into such a fat b**t**d, I'm going to subject you to what I've been doing about it. I feel like Bridget Jones except of course I have 2 children and have married my Mr Darcy already, and am so content that the big knickers have invaded the lingerie draw and chocolates have infested the kitchen. (And crisps. Salt & Vinegar ones).
So on Wednesday I had a riding lesson and it damn near killed me. No really. What effort. I snorted and huffed and puffed all the way around our 20 metre circle, cursing the bloke at the health club who insists riding is NOT a CV (that's cardio vascular, or OUT OF PUFF to you and me). I was at the VERY OUT OF PUFF stage after only 15 mins riding. Hacking is so much easier!
So I went and swam another 40 lengths on Thursday, and bought running shoes (oh dear). So I had to justify the purchase by actually running.
Running. What a shite activity. Okay, I get out of puff in a riding lesson, but it is fun. Running is crap. I ran around the block. I got half way and collapsed - chest heaving, boobs killing me (must invest in a sports bra), eye-balls popping, bent double. I had a stitch and wanted to throw up. The men sitting in the pub garden were shouting things like, "Way hey - what have we got here then?" I don't know what we've got here - a fat bastard who's trying to get fit and would rather other fat bastards left her alone, perhaps? (I don't know if they were fat but I could smell their fags and wanted one so I staggered on by and didn't look).
A friend rang the other day and said she runs for an hour. An hour?!!!! Is she taking the piss? I ran for 3 minutes and nearly had a heart attack. The following day I got three quarters of the way around the block, and went early before the pub opened (HA!). Same side effects but did make progress, only today my calves are like rocks and not very cheery at all. I'll keep you posted as to how I get on, and for your info (yeah - like you care but hey...) it's half a mile around my block. I measured it on Google Earth cos you can do clever stuff like that.
In fact I spent a good couple of writing hours measuring distances on Google. My old apartment in Spain, for example, was 0.16 miles from the beach on foot. I used to walk a minimum of 5 miles a day, and was so skint I ate very little. Hence I was lovely and slender when I lived there. Unlike here where I am the product of having a car, a husband who provides for me, a job of my own, and am not smoking so have an appetite.
I think I have bored you enough. Can't remember where the writing is up to but am writing again! Hurrah! This novel will get finished if it bloody kills me. But am determined to get fit too!
Curse the purchase of running shoes... and Jon - how the hell did you run a marathon?!!!!!