Boldly going

Maybe not that boldly, more ‘sweatily going’ if I’m being honest*. That’s a week I’ve been doing this running about like an idiot malarkey and I have to say I’ve surprised myself.

This isn’t as easy as it sounds. I did try hiding behind the door and waiting for me to walk past so I could jump out and yell, “Boo!” But it never worked – somehow I always seemed to know I was hiding there. Luckily this jumping out trick still works on She Who Must Have Her Heart Checked For Stopping And Starting At Regular Intervals — though for some reason, after the initial bout of screaming has passed, she develops a sudden attack of Tourettes.

Anyway, after a week of running every other day I have turned from couch potato to… a slightly fitter potato. Maybe an armchair potato. Or a divan potato. No longer do I feel like I’ve died and gone to hell after seven minutes, now I can pant and suffer all the way to twenty. Which doesn’t sound like much, but I realised at the end of Saturday’s undignified stagger that I’d actually covered nearly nine miles.

Now I’m sure I don’t do this with the same kind of panache and ease that Mr James does, but at least I’m getting there. One sweaty, cursing step at a time.

The only trouble is that it’s not shifting any of the hibernation insulation I’ve been laying down for the winter. Not a single ounce. Fitter, but just as fat. Which is a pain because HarperCollins have decided that I need a sexy new publicity photograph, and it’s going to be taken next week.

So short of having another bout of sinus surgery, or contracting a particularly nasty strain of food poisoning, it looks like I’m going to be a beardy chubster in the back of the next three books too.

Why do pies have to be so damn tasty?

* Thought I don’t see why I should start now.

4 Responses to “Boldly going”

  1. You credit me with more grace than is mine to command, Mr Stuart. At least where the running around like a sweaty person thing is concerned.

    Still, nine miles. I’m impressed. True, you don’t have the kind of hills we have around here, but I’m still struggling to do seven. Struggling to do any, I should say. I’ve been quite the lardass since getting back from Iceland.

    As to the magically disappearing inches – that only happens in weight-loss product commercials on those cheap and cheerful telly channels at the nether end of Sky. You’ll need to run for months to see any difference, and even then it’ll probably just be moving stuff around.

    Not that I want to put you off or anything;}#

  2. You are inspiring me to don my running shoes again, though 100 yards to get to the chip shop before it closes is the best I can manage these days.

    Don’t forget the Vaseline, Stuart.
    Slap it around your crotch, armpits and on your nipples. There’s nothing worse than chaffed nips, believe me. If you are running 9 miles, then you should have a go at a half-marathon. Far more pleasant an experience than the full one.

    Agent Brendan Foster

  3. Gee a weeks not long to see a result Stuart, you are too impatient……see how you are after 3 months. To speed things up try skipping, good for the “buttocks” Not that I am saying there is anything wrong with yours :-}


  4. My “buttocks” are both pert and fuzzy, Linda, so no worries on that front.

    But I want results and I want them NOW, damn it! Delayed gratification is never a good thing when it comes to getting rid of podge.

    And Phil, enough of the nipple talk, OK? This is a family blog, and some of the punter excite easily.


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