I was in the library yesterday, when a book figuratively leapt out at me: Run fat b!tch run by Ruth Field.
Not a friendly title, but strangely compelling. I picked it up and started reading it. It was written exactly for people like me: fat lazy people with little or no motivation to get their fat lazy bums off the sofa (or bed sofa, in my case) and out running. I almost felt almost motivated to go running, but I was in the library and wasn’t wearing trainers.
This afternoon, I picked the book up again. Despite my mother’s rules about swearing, I’m to look at myself in the mirror and call myself a fat bitch. It’s meant to be motivational.
Field moved on to talking about turning off whatever rubbish was on the telly and going out for a run. To my surprise, I put the book down, turned Friends off the telly, put my trainers on and went for a run.
The first three minutes were ok. Then I discovered I need better lungs.
