After yesterday's whiny entry, I actually got off my fat ass and went jogging after work.

Well, when I say 'jogging', what I mean is...

Well, I got home, persuaded him indoors to come with me, put on two (count 'em) sports bras and a tracksuit, and we headed out to the park. Brisk walk all the way there (it's about 10-15 mins walk), then some stretches, and then I attempted to jog. More like a trot, really. I alternated jogging for as long as I could, then walking, for about an hour. I think the park is the ideal place to do it because the drives are lightly gravelled (I found jogging on the pavement to be too jarring - I guess I need decent trainers). C did what I did, and ended up being barely out of breath. I, on the other hand, was huffing and puffing like a true comic jogger from a bad Hollywood movie. At least it was sort of dark and no-one could see me.

And we're going again tonight. I have resolved to try and do something like that at least 3 times a week, and hopefully I'll manage to run for longer in a few weeks. When I was gymming regularly, it took me several weeks to work up from only being able to do 5 minutes continuously on the exercise bike, to being able to do 20+.

I am so shockingly unfit. My family is really non-sporty, and I suppose I grew up not being interested in any sports. I'm not really interested in any today, either - C asked me the other week to just suggest a sport & want to do, and we'll do it. I've thought about it before - there aren't any sports that grab me. I hate team sports. The only time I ever did anything I came close to being enthusiastic about was when I was 17-18, and I used to go to a local boxing club once a week to train. 'Proper', red-gloves-and-bandages-and-mouth-guards boxing, not some martial arts version. One night a week it was ladies' night, and we'd do circuit training; and there would be a guy there who'd stand in the ring, and we could go pummel the hell out of him (poor bastard). It was great!

There is a fairly 'rough & ready' gym not too far from where I live where they'd probably offer boxing training, but I'm too chicken to go in there in case they'd take great amusement in a short, fat chick pitching up at their door looking to box. Plus, when I was boxing before, I used to be perpetually covered in bruises. Back then I didn't care, but I'd worry now in case anyone took my bruises the wrong way: when I was 18ish I remember going to see my GP for a checkup, and he wouldn't believe me when I told him the fist-sized bruises on my arms were from working out - he thought I had an abusive boyfriend. I was like, I wish I had a boyfriend!!!

Anyhow, my new resolution is to do something exercise-related 3 times a week and stop eating refined carbs (not that I eat so many right now, but I have had white pasta and white rice a few times recently). And cut out the cheese (*sniff* I love cheese).

Also, I'm going to try and get up earlier and walk to the tube station (35 minutes) rather than take the bus. Easier said than done, though, since right now C & I try to leave together, and it's taking us at least 90 minutes to get ready in the morning. This morning it took over 2 hours from the alarm going off to us walking out the door. I have no idea why it's taking so long. It's like there's a timewarp in my shower or something. We're not even having a morning shag!! I think it's just too much talking and taking too much time over breakfast (plus C spends quite a while in the shower).

God, from this entry I must sound like such a lazy fatass. I'm not, honest. I think.