"I feel stronger..."

I am a bit of a nerd, secretly. I love a good RPG on the X-Box or on my computer. I adore those roaming adventure games where you build your trusty band of comrades and go on quests.

One of the games of years gone by that I loved (but never finished), was Planescape: Torment, an epic game of storytelling and imagination. I think I only played it through the once.

What stuck with me most was what the only playable character would say when you had enough experience to level up. In his gruff, battle-worn voice, he would growl:

I feel stronger...

I feel like I'm levelling up. Today, I completed the third run of the Couch to 5k programme - that's week one done and dusted. It was tough, but probably because I chose to run up and down hills in the village, instead of running on the flat. It was good to see the little progress map move to week two. It was good to get home feeling like I could have gone on for longer.

I feel stronger. Apart from how my knees hurt, and I have a new pain in my shoulder.

My mental fortitude still leaves a lot to be desired, as I can think of nothing but chocolate, biscuits and cake at the moment.

No news from the school in Seattle yet. The suspense is killing me.

Measuring up

As part of my plan to transform myself from weakling to wonderwoman, I realised I needed a way to measure my progress. A month in America doing little else than eating and sitting about hasn't been the best way to start, but on the other hand it gives me a clean break from one way of life and way forward into another.

I took some measurements, which I'm about to share with you here. Now, I'd like to clarify something: I'm by no means looking to lose weight. I don't want to become smaller, or get a thigh gap, or see my clavicle. No thanks. What I want to is to be fit enough to run without heaving up a lung. I want to be strong enough to lift hay bales. I want to fill out my clothing with firm curves of a healthy, powerful body.

So, here goes. I would actually like a good few of these measurements to go up as I train.

• Calves: 13 1/2"
• Above-knee: 15 1/2" on the right, 15 1/4" on the left (remnant of injury and muscle wasting)
• Mid-thigh: 18 1/4" on the right, 18" on the left.
• Upper thigh: 21 1/4" on both sides
• Butt: 37" (this definitely needs to go up)
• Hips: 31"
• Waist: 27 3/4"
• Chest (bra-level): 30" (the bra-fitting lady knew her stuff)
• Chest (above boobs): 34"
• Upper arms: 10"
• Neck: 13"

There we go. I'd like my calves and thighs to tone up. By "tone", I don't mean get firmer, I mean get bigger. I want muscle. My butt needs shape and size, because right now it is flimsy and flat and doesn't help me jump up in the saddle at all. My thighs need to grow, particularly the left which is still atrophied from injury in September. My arms need more muscle too. My upper body strength is non-existent.

I'll attempt to remember to update these as I go. Today, I begin conditioning.

The first run

I went for a "run" today. I'm going to use that term loosely. Let's remember that I haven't run anywhere since last March. A long and complicated combination of sheer laziness, preoccupation with exams/studies/horse riding, injury, illness, travel, new injuries, more illness, more travel, and yet more illness meant that I didn't really run in the last year.

Today's effort was a start on a long road. I downloaded a "Couch to 5k" app on my phone, made sure I had some appropriate funky house to run to, and peeled myself into my running clothes. I laced on my trainers. Then I made myself look in the mirror. If I didn't go and run now, I was just an idiot wearing running clothes in the house.

I strapped on my heart rate monitor and my GPS watch, items I purchased in a rash of enthusiasm a few years ago. I really only love them for the calorie burn calculation that they produce.

The first episode of this Couch to 5k programme was mostly walking. There were eight runs of one minute each. I don't know what was more depressing: that the runs were only a minute long, or that I was wheezing and coughing my way to the end of each minute with barely another step left in me. I am horrifically unfit, to a degree that I don't recall for many years. My dance fitness came on so gradually, I didn't appreciate how in shape I was when I took up running the first time. This is a firm slap in the face. I need to put in work.



Luckily, it was a beautiful day, and I only got chased by a dog once, so it was a nice outing. I also got to see frogs in the village pond, and I do love seeing frogs.



By the time I got home, 32 minutes after I'd left, I had burned 240 calories, most likely through panic that I was about to die of heart failure. The lady on my app congratulated me heartily on completing the first session. I felt pretty pleased. The next run will be on Monday. Let's hope it's less gaspy and a bit more springy. I expect I will be stiff tomorrow. I'll deal with that when it happens.

Starting somewhere

You have to start somewhere, don't you? Julie Andrews would suggest starting at the very beginning (that's a very good place to start).

When I lay in bed this morning, wondering how on earth to summon the energy to just roll off the mattress and fall into the bathroom, I felt a bleak despair wash over me. I have spent a week looking at websites of personal trainers, and then feeling too cowardly to email or call them. I've looked at my wasting quadriceps and gluteals and felt ashamed and terrified by the thoroughly poor state of my fitness and strength.


On my recent trip to London, I wandered around the Natural History Museum, and had to sit down next to an elderly couple after I walked up a shallow flight of stairs and felt dizzy, light-headed, breathless, my heart pounding. In the words of Nicki Minaj: You outta work... I know it's tough. But enough is enough.

Thinking about it, I've been out of work(ing out) for months. I tore my plantar fascia last June, which healed up in time for me to go to America, where I tore up most of the soft tissue in the medial aspect of my knee. That healed up just in time for Christmas, when I was struck down with various germs that have kept me laid low for a few weeks.

Cowboy told me last night that Sunshine is fat and out of shape, and huffed and puffed her way through the entire ride last night, grumpy about how bad she felt. I think I understand what she's going through.

Here I am: over-sugared, under-sweated and acutely aware of my body's tendency towards premature ventricular contractions at bedtime. My PVC gets worse when I'm unfit, I've learned.

I forced myself up, and made a start. This start, in fact:



I pinned this to a Pinterest board months and months ago. I did it today, and felt instantly better. The best part is that you don't sweat doing this workout, so I didn't have to change into workout clothes and then shower and change back into normal clothes - the hassle puts me off more than the workout itself. Four minutes is doable, then straight back to whatever else needs to be done in the day.

I intend to pursue more thorough and longer duration workouts, as well as this four minute tabata training. There are plenty of hills around here for building bum muscle and quads strength, and for stamina training. I just need to get out into the cold and the wet and the mud and get to it.

Today was just a start, and starting is often the hardest bit.