so there i am yesterday, feeling pretty good about myself, although i do have a bit of chest cold going on. i got up and ran for the first time yesterday, in months and months and months. i put my self loathing on the back burner and lept out of bed
i know i only went round the block but from little acorns will come my great north run performance. i'm going to go around the block again this evening.
when i get back to the house i then do some pilates and some dips and some lunges and some squats.
i'm excavating myself.
i've been back pedalling for a while and wholly disheartened by my loss of fitness and what a rubbish runner i've become and i'd just let go. but i'm back on that horse (in part so i can get on an actual horse and go riding later this year) now.
so yesterday i was feeling good. i bought a ridiculously short skirt at the weekend and some new nice things for work and it was ALL to the good and i was looking pretty good as i'm in my 'beginning to lose' phase, visible it would seem in my fizog.
and then some dude shouts at me in the street last night when i was walking home from work (4.5 miles folks) 'tone up, lose some weight'.
this from a munting greying dude, shamblin along in his parker who had tyres a plenty to spare.
and i know if shouldn't have rained on my parade but it did.
the top i was wearing yesterday is now in the bin and the trousers are under relegation and the jacket is going to cower at the back of the wardrobe.