Relax, this is not going to be a post about the Aussie victory in the cricket. Why not? Because I don’t watch cricket and I’m not hypocritical enough to boast about my home nation’s sporting prowess (5-0 apparently) in a game I don’t follow. You know those Brits will only retaliate with something about their dominance in curling anyway. So, yes, my honest response if someone brings up the cricket at work is that I don’t give a crap. But yeah, well done, oi oi oi and all that patriotic shit I left behind at Mascot in 2001.
No, this is about fitness. I don’t know why but every year, once the calendar ticks over, a great swathe of people temporarily decide to actually get off their fat arses and make an effort to cut back on the extra fries? Is it the drunken promises we made on New Year’s Eve or a genuine compartmentalisation of our lives into 12-month packages that makes us close a chapter on one and believe the next could be better?
It’s a good thing the winter hasn’t been so harsh and I can run outdoors, since every treadmill at my gym this month is occupied by someone who will invaribly post on Facebook how they just nailed 2 miles – before posting later at the pub a picture of a half-drained pint glass that they have ‘totally earned’.
A temporary problem anyway, as the vast (pun intended) majority really don’t see it through more than four weeks at best. Figures now show that 64% of adults in the UK are overweight or obese. And that number, is getting bigger.
And yet, that’s not not even what this post is about. See, I’ve not been hiding my running ambitions from friends and family; I thought I would capitalise on the collective fitness hope for the new year and that people would get on board and (gasp!) join me. I might have had visions that it would turn into an epic Forrest Gump style group run. But no. I have largely (sorry, I’m really not trying to make fat jokes here, it’s just too easy) been met with disinterest and in some cases repeated health warnings. Trust me when I say that I am in better shape physically and mentally than I have in my adult life.
So, if you are not going to join me and actually slim down to a single airplane seat size, then please fast forward to February, shove some more cake in your face and stop warning me about damaging my knees.
Because I have a marathon to train for. Approximately 1000 bibs left if anyone has the balls to join me.