Ho Ho Ho! Here I go on the Christmas treadmill

A FEW months ago I signed up for a gym membership.

I signed up to change my life and to get fit in time for my Christmas holidays.

I also signed up and agreed with the trainer that I would not miss any of my guaranteed four to five training sessions a week.

I also lied, big time and with that I'm surely going to hell or, as we call it, Canberra, when I die.

I had every intention of going my allotted times each week but you know what, things got in the road.

Sleep got in the road, work got in the way, meetings got in the road and, also, did I mention sleep?

What really made me think was on Sunday's Botanic to Bridge 8km run.

I'm one of those nutbags who gets up at the stupid o'clock on the alarm-waking machine so I do get a little tired after the clock strikes midday, so using that is just one excuse.

My boss is partly to blame as she makes me stay and do work here, making me tired each day, plus I have to listen to her long stories about days gone by, but that's another article, I'm sure.

I know there's only four months to go until the fat guy comes screeching through the fly screens across central Queensland so that should be enough motivation to get me into a shape that won't scare people away when I take my shirt off and dive into the pool with the kids.

I've got four months to train myself by going to the gym and exercising my little heart out with that goal in mind.

What really made me think was on Sunday's Botanic to Bridge 8km run.

I hadn't been on a jog longer than heading to the toilet in at least five weeks. Pretty bad, I know, and by the first 500 metres I was feeling it.

Mothers with prams passed me while they were walking, grandfathers jogged past me without raising a sweat. It was then I knew my fitness wasn't all the best.

I did finish the run in just over 45 minutes without having a heart attack, and yes I did beat that slower Olympic medallist Matt Welsh by a few metres, of which I am proud.

In all seriousness, when I was on holiday in Sydney seeing my sister, I did promise to come back again next year and do the Sydney 42km marathon with her, of which she agreed. What was I thinking?

It's off to the gym I go. If you need me I'll be the sweaty one on the treadmill cursing.



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