The unwanted return

So.......where was I?

Ah yes, I'd vowed to never write this blog again, as I had nothing left to write about or say. I'd run a marathon and traveled through South America, and yes, I'd learnt a lot about myself and had made my peace with this crazy thing called life. But there was no reason to come back to this blog, I'd said everything I could possibly have wanted to.

But something happened reader, something that would profoundly change me, something that would bring me back to this laptop to catalogue my thoughts, problems, and issues with life, and also to log my trials and pains as I try to run another marathon.

I got fat.

"You fat Fuck"

Not obese or hideous, just fat. I'd gone from marathon build to a fat fuck in 6 amazing, fun filled months. You don't notice, well you do, you just pretend that it's fine.

The excesses of traveling life hit me with a fat punch to my stomach, and a choke hold to my arteries. My promise to myself to eat a steak every other day for month had backfired, and resulted in me being very weighty when I got back to London. Loved ones laughed, friends playfully renamed me 'Fatty Potter fat fat' and a girl who I care very deeply for told me that I repulsed her. It was a shock to my system, luckily I had a rubber ring a blubber to protect me.

I got back and got a call from a charity, asking me if I'd consider running for them at this years marathon. I agreed immediately, knowing that I need goals and targets to achieve in life, and if I'm ever going to get off my fat arse and do something then helping this charity is a beautiful way of applying pressure on myself. This was in January, and the race is in April, I was in trouble but knew that I could do it.

First run back

Knowing that I was in bad shape, and knowing that I used to be able to run fast I set off quick. It quickly became clear that the feeling of running was different, I didn't feel loose and relaxed, I felt bloated and sick. With every forward step I could feel the excess of 5 months of steak, beer, chips, and rice bounce around my hefty belly. It felt like I had Maddie Mcann strapped to my stomach, except that if you consider decomposition I was easily carrying a heavier weight than her. You know, with her being dead and everything.

With every bone rattling step it felt like I was smashing into the hundreds of bottles of beer I'd drunk, I felt slow and unresponsive, like being out on a date with a special needs girl. This fueled an anger inside me, an anger that I'd let myself get to this position, and the thing about anger is that you make silly decisions when you're angry, so I decide to run faster. I did 5 miles in 39 minutes. I stopped outside my house and puked into a drain.

My body heaved a collective groan, and then the pain started. From the inside of my feet first, as the blisters decided to reveal themselves. then the calves and thighs, as they politely, and aggressively started making stabbing pains on regular, 3 second intervals. My chest was shaking with fury, the lungs and heart were sobbing wildly, like they'd just found out that they'd been conned out of their life savings by a heartless shyster. Then finally my brain, which at first was calm, then simply said,

"Well you fucked your body up, now it's going to fuck you up"

Then the brain started with a spine curling headache.

I am in trouble.