Run, Fat Boy, Run

I am in so much pain right now! Oh man, no wonder I never exercise.

So, one of my friends came up to me last week and said “oh hey Charlie, do you want to come to Spain with me and a few of the boys” and I was all like “sick, yeah, sure, why not”. And then I started thinking “hang on, if I go to Spain, how am I going to get the rock-hard abs out whilst I get my tan on if I don’t have rock-hard abs to get out?”

Now, I really don’t exercise a lot, or at all really. This is the main reason why I was given the nickname “Sloth” at school and why it’s stuck (and why I named my blog philoslothical – funny world huh). But on top of the fact that I don’t really exercise, I like to eat. A lot. So far in my life, I seem to have managed to eat a lot, not be active and still remain stick thin – I was kind of annoyingly skinny for 18 years of my life. Now however, it seems that my metabolism has finally started to slow down and you can no longer see my ribs when I breathe in. I would never say I’m fat, but on a personal level I’m a bit flabbier than I would want to be when I strip off in the sun come May. So, I decided to take up running again.

I have a little bit of a history with running – that is, I used to run one mile every evening in about year 8 or 9, then I stopped for a couple of years until year 11 when I signed up for a charity fun run and went from no exercise to completing 9 miles in 70 minutes in the space of a 6 week training programme. In the 5 years that have passed since then I have probably put my sexy running tights on around about 3 times – I can certainly count my runs on one hand, and probably with fingers to spare. My mum keeps badgering on at me to get outside and do some exercise and I keep fobbing her off while she keeps calling me chunky (which led to a lovely argument this Christmas just gone but the less said about that the better). Anyway, this week was my watershed moment; I want to go to Spain in two months time and feel good in my swim shorts.

Squad goals (Image Credit: The Week/The Inbetweeners Movie)

So I downloaded the Nike + app, dug out my sexy tights and laced up my running shoes, which I bought from a special shop that analysed the way I run and matched me up with the perfect pair. When I set out I kind of just started running and hoped that at some point, my route would take me home. It’s very hilly where I live, and no matter what direction you leave my house in, you have to run up at some point, which is obviously not fun. I decided to head up the big hill first, while I still had all my energy, but the problem with that was I got about 100 metres from my house and realised I’d never been this far up the hill before and didn’t really know where to go. I ducked down the nearest side street and hoped that my keen sense of direction would see me through. There are some nice houses along that road, like reeeeeaaaally nice, the kind of houses that would probably sell for 7 figures and shouldn’t really be anywhere near student accommodation, but I guess they probably figured it was far enough up this massive hill that no lazy student will venture that far away from the gaggle of chip shops and Chinese takeaways that surround my house.

Anyway, taking this unknown route led me along some previously-unexplored Brighton streets until eventually I wound up somewhere I recognised and after that I kind of planned the route I would take home. I was pretty ambitious to be honest, and found myself pulling up and walking the last mile or so because I just couldn’t carry on. Still, 3.4 miles at a pace of 10 minutes per mile on my first run since forever – I was pretty chuffed with that, even if I did have to walk along the main road into Brighton dripping with sweat and wearing fucking running tights.

Like this but worse (Image Credit: The Telegraph/Run Fatboy Run)

When I got home, I texted Chloe to tell her about my run and she asked how Nike + was, as she wanted an app to run outside with now she’s at home and doesn’t have access to her uni treadmills and all the data they provide. I obviously convinced her to download it, and next thing I know we’d bet who could run a total of 200 miles on the app first, with the loser buying the winner a Nando’s with all the trimmings. Obviously, this meant I had to go running again the next day, so off I went.

This time I went down the hill, looking to register a higher distance because obviously going downhill means using less energy for the same amount of running, therefore I could go further and thus would win. I also stuck to roads I knew and planned the whole route out in my head from the start. The problem I ran (lol) into here was that I went along some quite busy streets and therefore had to dodge out the way of or get stuck behind lots of people. Anyway, as it turns out I pulled up in the exact same place as I did on my first run, albeit as I had taken a different route it worked out that I’d done 3.7 miles, and was rewarded with a recording of Paula Radcliffe telling me how great I’d done.

But oh man it didn’t feel that way. I know it’s supposedly no pain no gain, but when I stopped I did so because I thought I was going to be sick – probably because it was quite a warm day so maybe exhaustion or something? When I got home my legs were seizing up, and they still are pretty tight. I’ve got sore muscles in areas where a) I didn’t know I had muscles and b) definitely didn’t know I was working them – can you pull a rib? Who knows? And why does my neck hurt?

And to add insult to injury, Chloe went out that evening and beat my distance. What the hell do I do now? I tried to go running today but walking down stairs was like having my quadriceps slowly dissected, so that quickly made today a “rest day”. I do have to catch her up though, and overtake her, so I’ll have to go tomorrow. I’m not risking my Nando’s!

I’ve also downloaded some general fitness 30 day workout apps, and I’ll give those a try as soon as I’ve cleared some space on my bedroom floor. Currently, it has a few glasses, some uni work and the entire disassembled form of my chest of drawers on it, so I can’t really get in the middle of that and do some sit ups. But mark my words; come the end of May, I’m going to look like Ned Flanders.

JACKED (Image Credit: queerty.com/The Simpsons)