Pretend you are totally into getting fit an healthy and take up running so you have an excuse to get out the house for an hour to get some peace.
I have decided to get back into running again as part of my “One week before New Year” resolution. After I had Myles and was trying to lose weight, I tried running. I hated it. I tried running to music, I still hated it. I gave up. I focused on working out and included some cardio into my routine and when I finally felt like trying again, I thought my fitness would transfer and running would be easy. I was so wrong. I sucked at running but I eventually kinda enjoyed it. It was the only time my mind felt clear and I didn’t have to listen to anyone asking me for a bloody snack or drink. Last year I ran my first 10k and although it wasn’t a fast time, I was happy as a starting point.
It really wasn’t my first 10k if I’m honest, I ran one before when I lived in Glasgow about 12 years ago. I don’t count that though because I was in my very early twenties, had been out all night drinking, ran the race still drunk, didn’t even have sportswear and wore some ridiculous footwear like shell toe Adidas. God knows what time I got but I sure as hell wasn’t committed to it. Sometimes I run myself, sometimes with my daughter, sometimes I run with the pram but I always feel like death when I start and feel great when I finish.
My biggest downfall in trying to be healthy is my eating. Ahhh I just LOVE food so damn much! I cannot follow diets or meal plans like Slimming World or whatever, I’m just too disorganised for that. On January 1st I resolved to become vegan for one month. Then I ate some cheese on toast. Ok, ok Heather, its fine, just be vegetarian for a month. On January 2nd I ate a chicken sandwich. It was then I realised I just don’t have a clue.
I’m actually quite a good cook, its just that I’m good at cooking rich, carby, fatty meals. Well, I say I’m a good cook but yesterday I thought I would be all homely and make everyone pancakes for breakfast. I only had a little maple syrup left and thought that no one else really cared what was on theirs so I would selfishly keep that for myself. I cut up Myles’ pancake and poured on some Golden Syrup. I tried to spread it over and ended up with a congealed, sticky ball of pancake mess. God love him, that boy will eat anything though. Maia shuffled the pancake round her plate with a face like I just killed her puppy and my dear husband dramatically spat it back onto the plate. I equally dramatically rolled my eyes and tutted loudly. Today Maia asked if instead of pancakes for breakfast she could just have toast. Everyone agreed and I huffed away into the kitchen to make their toast and secretly hoped they would all choke on it.