In a new weekly feature, Her.ie newbie Liz is going to share her weight loss journey. She’ll be filling you in on fighting temptation, her willpower struggles with the cocktail menu and taking painfully slow steps towards regular exercise. All in the name of a dress. _____________________________________
Hanging on the wall at the end of my bed is the constant reminder I plan on shedding nearly two stone this year. I also plan on marking the trials and tribulations of ‘trying to be good’ – the favourite saying we all tout, and quickly replace when a cake is put in front of us.
Week 54: Sweating it out. Like a boss.
I’m writing this with my legs still seized up.
I learnt the hard way this week, that despite my best efforts, I am not as fit and energetic as I thought I was.
I approached the Women’s Mini Marathon with very little training. Having just come out of a bout of appendicitis, and being under strict instructions from the doctor to take things easy, I just set myself the goal of running at least half of the 10k.
For those who took part last Monday, I salute you. It was NOT easy.
I turned up with my three quarter length leggings, my Marie Keating t-shirt and a light rain-jacket. What I didn’t predict was the onslaught of rain showers.
With no pre-existing running time I was assigned to the walkers group, and shuffled along with the crowd while we waited to be freed onto the Dublin streets.
What I will say is that despite the rain and freezing cold, all the women around me looked delighted to be there.
We were all in it together. Admittedly, like drowned rats, but in great spirits.
When we finally did make it out onto the roads the thing that stood out to me more than anything was all the people standing by, cheering us ladies on as we plodded along.
From families, kids, brothers, sisters and boyfriends, to elderly neighbours and all the volunteers along the way, the atmosphere was electric.
My theory was if I could break out at the start, the chance of keeping up a pace would be easier if I was free of the crowds.
So I started out with a plod. And I tried to find my spot amongst the crowds.
It wasn’t much of a jog, but it got me through the first few kms at a steady speed.
Unfortunately that came to a halt when I got as far as the UCD Bridge. With the crowds, puddles and mud I was forced into a steady walking pace until we looped back around.
Once we got back out of the thick of the crowds, I started up my pace and kept on jogging.
I finished in a pretty decent time too. I ran 9 of the 10km, sweaty, out of breath and feeling like my legs were about to go from under me.
I really wanted to walk the last few metres as well, but for the first time in my life I understood what sporty people said about the adrenalin pushing you over the finish line.
And the end result?
This lovely shiny medal.
Not a bad end to the bank holiday weekend – and I might have treated myself to a nice little take-away for my troubles.
