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Learning to run again
Five years after I last hauled my sorry ass round a triathlon course I have decided to do it again. This time, to make it more difficult, I've doubled the distance and bolted my ankle together with pieces of metal. Wish me luck

Joining the health kick

inmyworldby inmyworldJan 20th 2010
The biscuits that have been provided for meeting sustenance go uneaten. My colleague who is renowned for never walking anywhere is going to the gym in his lunch hour. The swimming pool is full after work. It must be January.

I hate January in the UK. Dark nights, post Christmas poverty and flab and weather cold enough this year to give it the catchy title of 'The Big Freeze'. I'm not sure why, given how miserable this month is already, we seek to punish ourselves by avoiding the cake and pretending we can eat less chocolate for the rest of the year. Surely the pagans got it wrong and the big annual Christmas scoff down should have been placed later on, towards the end of February as a pat on the back for having survived the last few months?

From a training perspective, everywhere's overcrowded. The swimming pool (the only section I've attempted so far) has people moving at a pace so slow I'm amazed they're still floating. I should put this into perspective - I'm a firm believer in doing breast stroke in a triathlon. I'm sure that if the technique is right then front crawl is lots faster, but my technique is rubbish and with breast stroke I can see where I'm going. In last night's swim this was not very far.

I had planned to start cycling to work. I managed it once. But then the Big Freeze arrived and my general uselessness means that I still haven't got round to putting my bike lights on. Every time I plan to cycle it snows. I think, for the sake of Londoners everywhere, I should put it on hold until March.

Running will be next. I'm looking on the positive side. The last time I was jogging I enjoyed it. I'd started training up for a 5k distance. For the first time I was doing it with no event in mind, just with the knowledge that two years of backpacking had done my fitness no good whatsoever. Just me, my MP3 player and some dusty (and very hot) outback roads. Then I drunkenly tumbled into hospital with a broken ankle which needed some nuts and bolts to put it back together again.

Nearly a year on from that, and eight months since my last drink, I'm almost ready to pound the pavements. A stressful time at work is leading me to the pool. I'm hoping that soon I will feel the same urge to wobble my bits around London after a hard day at the office. Exercise as an addiction is something that has always evaded me, with my indulgent tendencies always lying towards the unhealthy extremes.

On August 8th my parents will celebrate 40 years of being married. I will celebrate the fact that I'll have just completed my first olympic triathlon.

Let battle commence.
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