It’s 3am on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I’m sat on the curb outside Liverpool’s infamous Garlands, eating cheesy chips like an absolute fiend.
It’s certainly not the most shocking sight to behold outside a club that once got shut down because chants of “we’re on drugs” from inside could be heard across the city during one particularly Echo-worthy raid – but it wasn’t the best thing in the world for the salad graft I’ve been doing so well on.
When it comes to food, once the flood gates open there’s no stopping me. I’m a lady in the street but a freak at the unlimited buffet. It’s something I think most people can relate to; you ruin your diet by 10am on Tuesday and think, “fuck it I might as well start next Monday now.”
But after a January from hell – where I changed jobs twice, split up with my ex, wrote my car off and – worst of all – spilled tuna juice in my handbag – I’d quickly gone from #fitfam to #passthewine. But with Summer loitering just round the corner it’s time to get back on the graft.
As a single mother to Buddy; the world’s cutest Staffy- Jack Russell cross, I’m consumed by guilt every time I leave him for two hours of an evening to go to the gym… which has been my excuse to sit in my pants eating jaffa cakes every night for the last two months. So now the nights are getting lighter, I thought it was about time that I started utilising having a manic puppy around the house to get me fit again – so I’m dusting off my running shoes and hitting the pavement.
I’ve invested in a Garmin forerunner 15 GPS runner watch – partly to keep me motivated, and partly because I have literally no sense of direction whatsoever – and me and Buddy went on our first run of the year last night.
So far, this is what I’ve learned about running with your dog:
Running is horrible. Absolutely god-awful. Which I already knew. But having the Garmin watch to track my calories helps to keep me focused, and seeing how happy the puppy is running with me after being home alone all day is much better motivation than staring at the gym walls while I pound the treadmill.
For such a tiny dog he isn’t half fast. At the moment we sprint for five minutes, then walk for five whilst I try and figure out whether I’m having a stroke or not. We’re working on pace setting.
Buddy worships chaos. Which I suspect he gets from me. In all seriousness, in the space of twenty minutes five different dogs nearly ripped their unsuspecting owners to arms off trying to chase us through the park, and one fella actually fell off his bike. All the while Buddy just stood their and grinned like the little minion of Satan that he is.
Until next time… x