62 Days To Shape Up

Sixty-two days as of yesterday, that is how long we have until the Royal Parks Half Marathon. That is how long Big Fat Pig has to get himself into some sort of shape. Things had been going passably well until les grandes vacances took us westward, whereat BFP ate way too much and then came home to re-injure the wretched calf muscle. So BFP took to the Precious Bike (I think it is a proper noun so we will dignify it with commencing capitals) and promptly won the world puncture championships. So BFP brought the old, nay very old, mountain bike out of retirement and, touch wood, that is going quite well thank you. Indeed things are looking up generally. The wonders of chiropractic science (or is it an art) have been exercised upon me twice in the last two weeks and the pains I brought back as extra baggage from Vancouver have dissipated. And better yet, the bike doctor has diagnosed a bad case of under-inflation as the cause of the punctures. Thus the Precious is back in the garage and raring to go and BFP has a lovely new stand pump so that he can accurately measure inflation. BFP is also toying with a return to running. Baby steps only. For now swimming is off the agenda because the school holidays make the baths tiresome.

Equipment sorted

I pushed myself quite hard on the mountain bike yesterday following the measured route that I used to use on the Precious. I'm about 25% slower on the mountain bike and the final hill is definitely more of an achievement on the heavier machine, but I managed to propel myself all the way up it both yesterday and today and even managed a ninety second improvement over yesterday's time. I actually feel a lot fitter already, but bloody hungry mind - and I could kill for a glass of red wine. No pain, no gain, Pig.  

Twenty Minutes And Forty-Two Seconds In The Life Of A Big Fat PIg

Twenty minutes is a barrier that matters because in the weird science of athletics it marks the difference between jogging and running. And 20.42 was how long BFP ran for this evening. Ran? Well I caught a glimpse of my shadow while out today and it seemed more shuffling than running to me. But the watch does not lie, so I have been running. This represented five successive days with strenuous(ish) exercise. I wore the Oakleys which probably explains my success. Touch wood, no calf injuries either. Might the chiropractor have made a beneficial difference to my gait? I'm happy to grasp at any straw.

I'm off the booze for a month as well so am feeling irrationally virtuous at present. Mind you I could murder a glass of chilled red right now. Yes I did say chilled red. The continentals do it and there are occasions when it fits the bill perfectly. Try it and tell the sommelier that a Big Fat Pig sent you.

I don't know about you but the hardest thing I find when running is the inability to think of anything other than the pain involved in doing it. I don't suffer the same problem when swimming or cycling. What should I think about dear reader? Answers on virtual postcards to the Overgraduate please.

BFP, over and out.