LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Tag: exercise (Page 1 of 3)

Back to the C25K

Alternative title: The day after my dad’s funeral I showed up to the local C25K … Guinness and Jägermeister sloshing around in my stomach, Anxiety prickling at my skin and clawing at my insides, my brain very much half asleep and lost in foggy Mirtazapine induced dreams … I should have still been in bed. But I wasn’t … And I threw myself at the ice covered tracks as though I’d never been away.

It’s been 6 months since I last attempted the C25K … And it’s probably been about 6 months since I last dusted off my running shoes. I know, epic fail right? I was so full of good intentions, I was determined to complete the C25K last time … But slowly my Anxiety managed to get in the way, I started to make excuses for not going to the running group meets and eventually my sports bra was used purely to support Pinky and Perky during Yoga inversions.

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Run Ruebi Run

Alternative title: When I was younger I had this dream of running a marathon before I reached the age of 30 … It’s safe to say that didn’t happen considering I’m now 31 and I am still a marathon / half-marathon virgin. I get tired running up the stairs for crying out loud … Which is part of the reason I own a house with a downstairs crapper.

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with running … That said I think I’ve had a love-hate relationship with most forms of exercise. But for some reason I always end up returning to running, determined to be better, determined to break my own expectations of my bodies capabilities … Proving it is stronger than I give it credit for. Proving it is not going to vomit at the sight of running shoes (well, much … Maybe a bit of dry retching).

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Alternative title: It’s no secret that I can’t dance, I have no sense of rhythm … In fact, I am probably the only person on the planet who can put Carlton Banks to shame! Yet there I was, pulsing squats and belting out the words to “Booty” in my dulcet (read as: tone deaf) Northern tones like a right royal tit.

Did I look like a tool? Yes (not much of a change from normal there then). Was I completely out of sync? More than likely (I walked into a door this morning so very likely – I am a disaster area!). Was I sweating buckets? Erm, can we say ‘glistening like the goddess I am’? (I was freaking drenched – back and butt sweat is the worst! Urgh).

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Pole Update – Doubles

Alternative title: The only thing more terrifying than me putting my faith in my thighs to stop me flying down a pole and cracking my chin off my arse (because I’m sure that’s what happens when you manage to concertina your body) is putting my faith in my thighs to stop me flying down a pole and cracking my arse off my Pole partner’s chin (and subsequently managing to concertina both bodies in a random smush of H&M sportswear and Nike short-shorts). 

In the words of Placebo* (any excuse for a Brian moment): “someone call the ambulance, there’s gonna be an accident!”

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