I am very annoyed with myself. I have given myself some very severe tickings off but myself is just shrugging her shoulders and eating another Abernethy biscuit. Myself is, if truth be told, a bit wayward at the moment. People are looking at me rather oddly in the street as I mutter to myself. They looked at me even more oddly in the gym on Sunday when I was swearing at myself under my breath as I lumbered along on the dreadmill.
The reason for this slightly schizophrenic irritation? In May of this year I was fit enough to run the Great Edinburgh Run. 6 miles through the slightly odorific streets of Edinburgh and whilst I did not run all the way, I did finish on my own 2 feet rather than in the back of an ambulance. I was also a couple of dress sizes smaller than I am now. Bah. I have not run properly since then and the combination of no exercise and that whole pesky depression malarkey means that in terms of fitness and diet, the summer has been a spectacular wipeout. (Don't get me wrong, the poutine and ice cream in Canada were wonderful, just not very good for me.)
I have tried in a rather pathetically half-hearted way to get back into the swing of things over the past couple of weeks and have failed. So I have reverted to the only sure fire method I know: the threat of public humiliation.
I have signed up for the Great Winter Run.
For those of you not from Edinburgh (or from Edinburgh and sensible enough not to do this kind of stuff) this is a 5k (3 mile in old money) run round Arthur's Seat in the dead of winter. Arthur's Seat is a big extinct volcano type thing in the middle of Edinburgh. In other words, a hill. The run is on 10 January 2009 and last year, when Second Born ran the junior version, it was so cold the lochs had frozen over and the swans were skiting about on the ice. So I have voluntarily signed up, and paid good money, for the privilege of getting out of bed early on a winter's morning in Edinburgh and running up a hill and down again like a sad, saggy, middle-aged Duke of York. Without the ten thousand men.
I am now trying to bully various work colleagues into doing it too. "Come on! It'll be fun! They've got paramedics on site, what's the worst that could happen?!" I think my sales technique could do with some polishing.
On the plus side, the looming threat of doing this in public will definitely get me out running again. Probably.