Running

Ok, proof that I am far from sane, I have decided to take up running.  I know to start off slow at first, taking it easy with a bit of light jogging and stuff, but still.  I have a feeling that I shall still end up a sweaty, red faced mess however easy I take it at first.  Really, you should see me attempting to haul myself up the hill to get home.  It’s far from attractive.  As is my running technique actually.  I’m all flailing limbs.  It’s so undignified.  And so why would I willingly put myself through such torture?  I have heard that it’s good exercise for overall body toning, and it would help me get fitter in general I think.  I really need to get fit.  I’ve yet to shift the spare tyre that developed courtesy of all the mince pies at Christmas.  Though that’s possibly because I’ve yet to drop the excessive quantities of lard from my diet.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m generally happy with my body, but the problem is my tummy, and the love handles.  I’m sick of fat spilling over the top of my jeans no matter what size I wear.  I don’t want to be a stick, and I would love to keep what little curves I have, I just don’t want the tummy bulge.  It’s wobbly and grim.  So running it is then.  Wish me luck.

Of course, it is an excuse to do a bit of shopping too, for I shall need a tracksuit.  Joy.  I’m actually quite excited, but that’s probably because I do bugger all else.  It’ll kill the odd afternoon anyway.