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BREAKING NEWS: This week’s post is all about running. Not wine, not my new black suede croc-textured reebok classics, not comedy drunken lunch trips to Paris. Real, genuine, actual running. I know. After scaring myself a little bit shitless with my own laziness last week, I put my sneaks on and made like Forrest Gump. It hurt and I went very red, but still. Me! Running! Being a runner! I’ll say it one more time for you, just so it really sinks in: I went R-U-N-N-I-N-G. They were proper runs, too. No stopping. No giving up after 7 minutes because it was “too windy”. No bailing because I slept through my alarm again. My first run was 4.2k in 26 minutes. My second run was 5.6k in 43 minutes. I don’t feel like I set the athletic world on fire, pace-wise, or distance-wise actually, but who cares! I went running – twice! – and I didn’t totally hate it. I think my success can be attributed to three things: a) Fear b) The weight I gained in January when I was in India that I’ve yet to lose c) Music And it turns out, the five hours I spent making my Fat Chance Spotify playlist was five hours very well spent indeed. It’s scientifically proven that music boosts exercise. It distracts you from the pain and boredom, it gets you in ‘the zone’ and it boosts the effort you put in. From my own experiences this week, I think the real scientific conclusion here is that the more embarrassing the song choice, the better you run: the Baywatch theme tune; ‘Re-Rewind’ by Artful Dodger and ‘Work B*tch” by Britney Spears all helped me go the distance this week. And luckily, I’m a non-ironic fan of Cher and Wet Wet Wet, so with their massive back catalogues, there’s no end of naff songs to get me going. But of course, every silver lining has its cloud. And this week, where I excelled at not spending all my spare time on the couch, I massively failed at not smoking. I accidentally started smoking again and for that I’m not proud. I’m feeling like such a moron that I’m going to stop again. Immediately. As soon as I’ve finished this packet. Because I’m a runner now damnit, and runners don’t smoke. My week in numbers…
  • Number of times I used the word ‘run’, ‘runs’, or ‘running’: 952
  • Number of times I counted two runs as ‘a success’: 58
  • Number of times I described myself as a runner: 100
  • Number of times I made a group of builders laugh at my red, red face: 2 (that I noticed)
  • Number of times I felt bad about starting smoking again: 8,000,017
How I’m feeling about this: Apart from the fag relapse, pretty fucking good!
Marathon AJ
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