Day 18. Getting there

Getting there, actually, is part of my problem. Getting to the gym, that is. Or out of the door even, dressed in (still rubbishy) gym kit. This morning, I had little choice but to get to the gym at a time I call early on a Saturday ie 10am, by which time, my Janathoner son, Matt Webb, had done his Park Run. 5k in 24 minutes to be precise.

Today is a, not unusually, action-packed Fryett Saturday taking in a matinee in Liverpool (Scottie Road the Musical) followed by a Skittles evening (don't ask) in a country pub in the wilds of Cheshire. So exercise had to be despatched relatively early on. Normally I would just count the Skittles evening as exercise. Not that I've ever been to a Skittles evening, not even, to my Yorkshire shame a Beer and Skittles evening. This one promises to be a Curry and Skittles evening so I can't wait.

Before I left for the gym, I measured my waist and tummy area and they have both gone down a bit and my waist seems more defined. Usually when my waist looks smaller, it's because I've added lard to my hips. And The Husband commented that my skin looks brighter and my eyes shiny. He'll be ruffling my hair and feeding me Winalot next.

Anyway, to the main point of this blog. The intention was to do the same Week Four Couch Potato programme as I'd done on Tuesday. Being very lazy, I was doubtful that my hard-wired-Saturday-morning-rather-be-in-bed-with-a-cappuccino-and-a-good-book body was up to it but, watching the opening credits of Murder She Wrote, which showed Angela Lansbury jogging in a fetching coral tracksuit, I thought 'if she can do it and she must be nearly 90, then I can'. And I did. And it was easier. And I quite enjoyed it. I'm just waiting till I start to get addicted to it so that I think I love it, indeed become obsessed with it. Then it will be really easy. Won't it?

Getting there then...