Never being one for lengthy introductions, and safe in the knowledge that at this moment in time, I have no readers therefore the need for one being completely negated, I'll get straight to the point.
THE POINT:
Ok, the point. Well, before I get to the point, I thought I'd share with you an observation of mine, and knowing me, probably detract from the point quite severely before getting back to the point, but I promise, at some point, there will be a point to be made. So this observation of mine, it seems there is one thing we all have in common. Regardless of age, sex, race, class, colour and indeed creed, one thing is universal: Assumption. Everybody does it, some people will deny that they do it, but they do. In most cases, it is generally safe to assume. We go to bed at night assuming that we will wake up in the morning. We assume day will follow night, and thus far, it always has done, therefore we assume the same will happen tomorrow. We safely assume all sorts of things, but I've made my point I believe (not the point I promised, just a mid point... point. Bear with me) so I'll continue.
Now, assuming (you see, even I do it) that you do not know me, you may read the title of this blog and assume I'm fat. Well, I'm not. I'm not even kind of fat, nor am I chubby under the disillusion that it is muscle. Nope, I'm a human rake. I mean properly thin. I'm just a tad shy of 6'3'', and weigh in at 10.5 stone, fully clothed, PWT [Northern acronym; piss wet through], with a body fat count of 8%. Yep, skinny AND lanky. Great.
Now, people also assume that because I am thin, that I am fit. Apparently, the two come hand in hand. Well let me tell you that they do not! I'm not fit, I mean I'm not wheezily unfit, I don't collapse after walking a flight of stairs, for example, but I'm certainly a country mile away from being actually fit. My idea of a personal challenge usually involves an end of level boss, or finding something to watch that doesn't have me pushing my thumbs into my eyeballs out of the 760 channels of utter guff that Virgin have to offer. Can you assume that because I am thin, I eat well, or little? No you most certainly can not! My weekly diet generally involves at least one take-away and a trip to McDonalds, interspersed with cooked meals (and I use the term cooked very loosely) which are mainly carbs and fat, or potato based. Lets use this week as an example, and bare in mind it's only Thursday, but I have eaten pizza for the last three nights running, with the other "meals" being purchased from the canteen at my place of work, and let me assure you, there wasn't an ounce of health in anything being sold there. I'm not proud of my diet, but nor do I presently care enough to change it. Quite simply, food to me is the means to an end, it prevents me from dropping dead, and that's it. How am I so thin when I eat such rubbish I hear (imagine) you ask? Well my imaginary friends, that would be down to the miracle that is my hyperactive thyroid. And god bless the marvelous gland, for the rest of me is a disaster waiting to happen.
On top of this I also smoke, not a lot, but I do smoke - unless my grandad asks, in which case, I was just holding it for someone, and god help me if he ever finds out because I have actually lied, to his face might I add, and categorically stated that I do not.
Oh, I drink too. Not enough to go into detail about, just thought that I would throw that one in too.
So that's my point, and if you've accidentally stumbled upon this blog in search for something far more interesting and have made it to this stage, then firstly hello there, and congratulations, I was even beginning to bore myself, but I can assure you that it will not get any more interesting, so you may wish to turn around and go back out the way you came in. So quick recap: Skinny. Unfit. Eat rubbish. Smoke. Which just about leads me to the next point (I fear I may be starting to over use this word), the purpose.
THE PURPOSE
Well, the purpose of the blog is quite simple really. It's purely because my friend has one, and I like it, and I wanted my own. Yes, it seems I have not grown up one bit, I see something that someone else has, and I want one too. I don't mind admitting that, I'm not proud.
The blog will serve me at least some form of purpose, and also explains the above point a little better. Initially, it will be used to write about something I rather stupidly volunteered to do. I didn't even volunteer out of pressure. No, I even suggested it myself.
This suggestion comes in the the form of going for a run with my friend, whom I shall refer only to as HMC, for reasons of protecting his identity should he wish to remain anonymous for fear of embarrassment through association. That is, at least, until he is dragging my corpse behind whilst on this run.
Now this run, it shouldn't be a big deal, but I am genuinely pooing myself at the mere thought of it. You see, HMC is currently training for a half marathon and aims to complete this in a sub 1.50minute time, where as I myself refuse to even run for a bus. There'll be another one in 20 minutes, no need to break a sweat is there. As we have ascertained at this point, I am quite unfit, and fear that I may not be able to complete this run. Now, I'm not concerned with HMC doing better than me on this run, because I know full well that he will do better than me. I'm scared I'll die attempting to keep up.
Realistically, there is no need to get so worked up about something so trivial. For normal people. I myself am not normal, and I'm not talking about how unfit I am at this stage. I'm talking about how ridiculously competitive I am. I'm the most competitive person I know, and HMC brings the absolute worst bit of this out of me. Between myself and HMC, after a good night on the sauce, we came up with as what can only be described as the London Leapfrog Championship, which consisted of leapfrogging everything in sight, from parking meters, to bollards, to postboxes. This continued on the journey home, followed by tube surfing, and racing up a down escalator whilst trying to pull each other backwards. This of course ended with, as well as many many laughs, injuries. HMC had a cut on his head, and I had severe bruising to what can only be explained as the groinal regions.
I'm not overly bothered that HMC will royally show me up, barely breaking a sweat where as I am trying to prevent vomit from escaping through my nostrils, but the thought of not being able to complete a short run, when my only competitor is myself, will really frustrate me. I should be fit enough to last a short run, and dammit I will last a short run, even if it kills me!
So the purpose of this blog is to give updates on my progress as I attempt to get just fit enough to last what for HMC will be a leisurely stroll in the park, and hopefully will serve as some form of motivation. Now knowing me, I dare say I'll lose my train of though a few times along the way, and before I know it, will be pebbledashed with random musings, rants, other crap that I've done / need to do / didn't do, and pictures of my frequently acquired injuries. For some reason, I bleed. A lot. I'm forever acquiring wounds, I actually think my body produces too much blood, and feels the need to dispense it at random intervals, by means of interfering with my brainwaves, and making me slip whilst I'm wielding potentially digit severing tools. I think I lose on average a pint of blood a week. If only I donated, I could save myself the hassle. The one thing however that I absolutely refuse to blog about, is work, for fear that I may get wound up and smash my freebie CarPhoneWarehouse laptop to little pieces.
Anyway, progress. I can't blog about my progress if I'm not doing anything to blog about after all, so hopefully this will encourage me to peel my backside out of the dent I've made in the sofa, and get training. All I need is a good plan...
THE PLAN
Right, here's the plan. First, we go in there and get wrecked, then we eat a pork pie, then we drop some Surmontil-50's each. That way we'll miss out on Monday and come up smiling Tuesday morning.
Ok ok, so a Withnail & I quote won't quite cut the mustard, but the problem is readers (hello mum!), I don't currently have a plan. Not yet at least. What I do have however, is time. A little bit. 8 weeks from this point, to be exact. Crap. I do actually own some running shoes, real ones, and I have used them before, literally twice this year! I also have access to a treadmill, thanks to my housemate. So with the aforementioned items, and a little ingenuity, I'm sure I can come up with a plan... I'll need some time for that though... I'll get back to you with a plan.
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