The first run. Ugh.

After years on the couch I was finally persuaded to try going for a "run" by my boyfriend, who is as fat as I am. I put "run" in quotes since we all know that that's going to last for about 5 seconds, shortly followed by wheezing and slowing down to a speed below ordinary walking.

All the same. I felt very proud to put on the fancy running gear that I'd purchased two years ago, when I'd gone running in my head.

But as soon as we left his house, the most tremendous resistance set in. "WHAT IF IT SHOULD SUDDENLY HAIL VERY LARGE AND SHARP HAILSTONES?" I looked up at the sky. It was clear blue but you never know and it's best not take chances. I tried again. "WHAT IF IT RAINS?"

He looked at me, his chubby legs sticking out of wrinkly shorts recently rescued from the bottom of the wardrobe. "I can see now why you've never gone running," was all he said.

We ran around the corner towards the local park. 10 seconds on I was bored, of course. I invented the running hug to amuse myself.

I never ever ever ever imagined that I would ever ever go running with another person, particularly not someone whom I want to love me, because of course when he sees my blustery flustered red face and notices that I cannot breathe, he will realise that he does not love me. 

But there came a point when I was sicker of being unfit, than worried about what he thinks. 

So there we were, running, flustered, with my arms around him because I was bored. 

We made it round the (admittedly tiny) park. I tried to walk the last bit, but he shouted those awful motivational things at me so I pretended to run half of it. 

We felt amazing afterwards but I'm not going to go on about that bit because this site has banned motivational crap. 

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