I had my weekly training session with Nelson today. It's about the tenth one I've had, the first was back in July, but I had most of August off because I was away.
He took my weight and fat ratio (or something) for the first time since I'd started. It was disappointing to note that I had lost just one kilo in all this time. Admittedly the August break can't have helped, but I've been really getting back into things (and eating much more healthily) for the last few weeks, so you'd hope that would have had some effect.
However, according to the futuristic Star Trek like device that claims to be able to assess my percentage of body fat, just by me holding on to it with my hands (there's no way that can actually work) my body is now 2% less fat than it was back then. Yes, I am only composed of 97% fat now. That's quite an achievement.
I do feel a lot fitter and happier and certainly look better. It's just a shame that the scales refuse to acknowledge this. Because I trust scales. They can't really lie. I don't really trust the fat machine. I think it probably just spews out any old number and hopes no-one will question it.
Things should improve over the next few months as I am definitely going to do the Marathon (well I have a guaranteed place. I suppose I could drop out. But I don't think I could stand to see the disappointed faces of those telescope-less children). Next month I'm doing a 10K run, which is just over 6 miles (so only 20 miles short of what I'm aiming for), so I'm really going to have to keep up with the training.
I will shortly be setting up a PO Box Number where you can send me sponsorship cheques and maybe even a website thing for credit card based donations.
I hope that you will back me on this one. It's going to be a bit challenge. You may well be paying to see my death, which must surely make it worth quite a bit of cash. It's the modern day equivalent of the gladitorial combats in the Colesseum. A fat bloke attempts to run much further than it is possible for him to run. Come on, you'd pay a tenner to be part of that, wouldn't you?
I will put something up on the site as soon as I've sorted out the details. Make sure you pay up front. If I am dead, I will be unable to cash your cheques and I need to collect at least £700 before I start.
Whoever gives me the most money will get a special prize of some kind (and it won't be my sweat covered running top. Unless that's what you want. I'll probably auction that off separately. There is an underground market for the soiled sports garments of unsuccessful TV comedians.)
