Welcome to fitness club. The first rule of fitness club is that you don’t have to have done anything, you can just mither about what you would like to have done, and share your best excuses. We don’t expect anyone around here to be truly and genuinely fit.
I, for example, am happy to have achieved the ability to run 5km without stopping. I don’t do it fast, I just do it. And today I don’t do it at all because I am coming down with something. Thought I might start thinking about working up to 10km, but thinking about it is quite exhausting.
How are you getting along this week? Or not?
I am full of the feverish energy that comes as you approach the centre of the candle you’ve been burning from both ends, and full of good intentions.
Moving house on monday, intending to restart C25K on Tuesday morning. Or, at the very latest, Wednesday. There! I said it. Now I just have to do it. Also picked up an app called 7-minute work-out which seems doable, as long as you don’t mind press-ups and things. One can always make seven minutes after all, right? Anyway, so those are the things I intend to start doing by this time next week. TA DA!
Brilliant, that’s the spirit! Good intentions burn a scientifically unprovable number of calories per minute.
Not good for the last couple of weeks. I’ve had a persistent cough and so after much googling have refrained from training on the symptoms above the neck = OK; symptoms below the neck != OK principle. Briefly considered a tentative venture out for a run last night but it was Baltic so convinced myself that it would be unwise for my first one back. Feels like I’m starting to make excuses now though!
Yes, today is the first morning of scraping ice off the car. So I think anyone is entitled to add that into the mix and not run.
We did our first scrape on Sunday. I’ve done W6R2 twice. Yay.
All is lost. Woe, and sloth, is me.
All is not lost. We can all start again when we feel better.
I’ve been thinking about going for a long walk. Maybe 10 miles or so.
I’ll keep thinking about it. Now, where’s the gin?