Simon Peevers is fundraising for British Heart Foundation - JustGiving

Simon Peevers is fundraising for British Heart Foundation - JustGiving

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The Snow Runner

This was the scene in Bristol over the past couple of days and if it had been any other time in my life there is no way I would have considered pulling on my running shoes and going for little jog.

But of course, training for the marathon means that you get your sorry ass out there come rain, shine, snow, hurricane, whatever. There is no day off, not even at Christmas.

That is how I found myself at about 7pm this evening trotting carefully round the Downs, wondering if I would make it home without any broken bones.

In the fantasy movie that runs in my head most of the time, I thought that the name Snow Runner might be an appropriately wistful and romantic name for the main character who bravely takes on the snow and ice while all others wrap up warm and stay inside.

The Snow Runner was the only one with skill and courage to negotiate the lethal icy paths of Bristol as he trained for the 50 mile mega marathon that he was running to save a village from destruction by an evil multi-corporate oil company. It all rested on the idea that I was the only person in the city dedicated/stupid enough to go running tonight. But in fact I probably saw about a dozen others so it turns out I'm not really the movie hero I thought I might be.

It wasn't a bad run because it wasn't really as cold as I thought it might be. Don't get me wrong, I was wrapped up in woolie hat, three layers on top including gloves, and tracksuit trousers below, with two pairs of socks. At no point did it get warm enough to remove any of those layers. But there was no wind and that makes such a difference, the cold does slice through you and you can warm up enough by running. It was however very, very slippery. I came out of my house and onto Cranbrook Road and actually thought there was no way I could go running as I could barely walk without slipping. I tried a few yards and found that it was okay as long as I took careful small steps, which was a shame because I really did want it to be too hazardous to go out and risk injuring myself.

In truth, it was too hazardous and there were a few points when I felt the world slip from under what I thought was a sure step along the pavement and wondered about the sense of being out there at all. As I went on it got a little easier and there were plenty of points which weren't too slippery. Going up or down hills was a bit dicey mind you.

At one point though I made myself laugh as I was running past the downs and could see the lights of four off-road cyclists coming in my direction but on the grass. I thought they must be a bit sad to go off-road cycling in these conditions and had to remind myself of just why I was out in these conditions and nothing could be sadder than going for a jog in sub-zero temperatures just to stick to a schedule.

I did 45 mins in all, with a big hill, which is what I am down to do on the master plan, so I'm pleased I managed to get the run in as I'm not sure what's going to happen to the schedule during Christmas week.

I am planning to go out on Thursday morning and perhaps leave it until the weekend.

I went out on sunday for 90 mins which was a really good run, down the Portway and up Bridge Valley Road. It was good mainly because I never thought I was much good in the mornings at running but it turns out I was more than able to crack on with it, and it was a beautiful sunny morning. So I'm hoping for more of the same on Christmas Eve.

But I have decided that I'm not going to go running on the ice again. It was pointed out by my much better half that missing a couple scheduled runs is one thing, missing the marathon because you're stupid enough to go running on ice and slip and break your leg, is quite another.

As fun as it was tripping through the snow, I fear I may have been lucky not to at least sprain an ankle, so I'm going to wait for the thaw. That said, it might be quite nice to have a few days off the training, so let's hope the cold snap is here for a little longer.

Being bad feels good.

Even angels take a day off once in a while right? Not that I'm comparing myself to one of God's messengers of course, but I do feel like I've been behaving very well in recent weeks with not so much as a drop of booze, a block of chocolate or handful of crisps has past my lips.
In fact I've been eating so much salad that lettuce growers in the Kent mega-green houses are complaining of working overtime to keep my local shops stocked.
I bought a tuna salad for lunch yesterday which was so full of dry, bland-tasting tuna chunks out of a tin, that I was worried I might be prosecuted for exceeding European fishing quotas.
About the only other things in the salad was onions. They should have called it the 'Want to drive everybody away with fish and onion breath Salad' instead.
So tonight, I had a bit of a blowout, I've taken a day off. After running my ass off at the weekend in the Weston 10K, I've been feeling a bit worn out and the perpetual cold and rain has really not inspired me to go running this week.
Tonight instead of my now usual fayre of boiled potatoes, beans and fish, I opted for a couple of chicken and salad pittas, which aren't bad in themselves, but I accompanied that with a tube of Cheese and Chive Pringles, the best kind, and followed it with a Kit Kat chunky, oh yes, it was dirty food, and it felt good.
I didn't go for a run either, I just sat in front of the telly munching my Pringles and enjoying the indulgent.
What's weird though is that I feel quite guilty for my binging, but compared to what I used to eat on a daily basis it compares worse than a weakened Wolves side taking on Man United.
Last night I did some more filming with Kirsty and we looked at what I was eating at the start of this challenge in April and it is really no surprise that I got as fat as I did. I was eating about five meals a day, plus snacks.
I actually felt a bit sick looking at it all. Then we looked at my typical daily intake now and it's possibly a third of what it used to be. Three meals a day at the most, with bits of fruit to stave off hunger, rather than entire packets of cookies or sandwiches between meals.
And even though I may have gorged myself tonight, the fact is for breakfast all I had was a banana and fruit and nut bar, with a chicken and cous-cous salad for lunch, with no snacking inbetween.
So perhaps I shouldn't feel too guilty, there's a good chance I haven't even exceeded the recommended calorie intake for the day. Although I feel a bit sick and having cut out the really processed crappy foods, tonights 'treat' doesn't really sit well.
I bet I put three pounds back on as well, in which case I think I may have to go for a run tomorrow night just to counteract the effects of it. It's quite galling to think I may never be able to have a blowout again without having to go for a five mile run to work it off.
Still, there's clearly much worse things to live with and to be honest I'd trade a fit and healthy lifestyle for the odd curry or tube or Pringles.

Weston Xmas Cracker 10K

Had a great run today at the Weston Xmas Cracker 10K. It was a bit cold of course, but conditions really weren't that bad, and once I started running I soon warmed up.
I did it in 1hr 15mins, which I'm really pleased with as I did the Bristol 10K in May in 1hr 36mins, so it's obviously a huge improvement.
I made a little video with the help of Amy, click on the link below:

Weston 10K

Film of my life

Spent the morning at glamorous Cabot Circus and Quaker's Friars doing some filming for the documentary version of this blog, which is being made very professionally by the exceedingly talented Kirsty Hemming, of Boxing Bear films.
I decided before I launched myself into this mission that it might be good to film this 12 months in a documentary, because obviously the idea of making a film about my life is far too tempting to resist, but also I thought that if I succeed in all I'm trying to do then it will be worth recording and hopefully could be used to help others in a similar position rise to their own challenges.
So as well as the video diary bits that I have been doing myself, Kirsty has been doing proper filming, with the assistance/help/collaboration of the equally talented Richard Nicholls.
Since day 1 she has been recording everything from sitting on my arse watching the marathon in April talking up the idea of running it next year, to training runs, visits to the doctor, working out in the gym, my elation at completing the 10k in May, my depression at my dismal performance in the half marathon and lots of other things.
Today we were looking at the wider issues related to being overweight and that fat blokes can feel uncomfortable and isolated walking round clothes shops where you have to be a skinny 16-year-old boy to get into any of the clothes.
I can't remember if I've said this before, but I bitterly remember one time going into John Lewis to buy a new suit as I was heading to the wedding of a very good couple of friends. I wanted to get a shirt that fitted properly so the 19-year-old rake-like sales assistant measured my neck, which at the time admittedly was as wide as the Sargasso sea. When he looked at how far the tape measure had gone he looked at me and said: 'It says 18.5", I don't think we do shirts that big'. This was a few years ago and I was still very much in denial and the thought that I had outgrown the entire shirt stock of the John Lewis store at Cribbs Causeway caused me some hurt as well as mild embarrassment. So I headed to M & S instead, where they know their customers and had a fine array of shirts for short fat men.
It was that sort of thing that made me realise for the first time just how far out of the norm you get when your weight goes up through the late teens.
I did buy a new suit, and a new shirt and tie, and funnily enough it just looked like a fat man in a very large suit. The jacket was made with so much material that refugees were pitching camps in it waiting for the winter to pass.
But getting clothes to fit properly and accepting I needed to buy bigger clothes, was a much better approach to dealing with obesity than pretending it wasn't happening and wondering why my trousers would burst at the button or split at the back with the merest movement. Wearing black t-shirts only goes so far, in the same way that building a zeppelin airship in black does little to reduce the appearance of mass.
I have to say that it is only very recently that I have felt confident in going out socially again. For many months, if not years, I felt insecure and awkward going out to the pub or to parties, although I would always be happy to go and see friends for dinner, not just to eat. I couldn't stand going out with people I didn't know because in my mind when they met me for the first time all they would think about is meeting that fat bloke, not who I am.
I don't know for sure, maybe that's all in my head, but it's how I felt. And it's the same going into clothes shops, trying things on and knowing they're really not designed for somebody my size. So you stay out of them and continue to wear big baggy shirts and tracksuits which really don't do very much for anybody.
Of course, the answer to all this is to stop whining like the fat kid in the playground and do something about it, which is what I am doing. And that is also why I'm looking forward to spending a fortune in trendy clothes shops once I've completed the marathon training.
The filming went well this morning and after that I did almost all of my Christmas shopping, in Broadmead! So much for Cabot Circus and QF, get down the 'mead where it's a proper job!

Monday's weigh-in

The good news is I seem to be ripping through the 15s as I went to my Weight Watchers weigh in and I'm now down to 15st 5.5 lbs.
That's about eight pounds in a month, which is a good healthy rate I think. Since September last year I have lost a total of three and a half stone.
It's obviously down to the increase in training and cutting chocolate out of my diet, hardly rocket science.
I definitely feel slimmer as well, more than perhaps my actual weight reflects because everything is more toned which means I am able to fit into some of the clothes I haven't worn for a while.
Training is getting quite tough though. Last night it was so cold that by the time I had finished my run and got back to the house I could barely hold the key in my hand to unlock the door. I have asked for some gloves for Christmas which I hope will help that.
This week I have to find something suitably festive to wear during the 10k on Sunday in Weston, where most people dress up as Father Christmas, crackers, puddings or other similarly daft costumes.
Must take advantage of a break in the rain this afternoon and go running in the winter sunshine.

Return of the Mac

Blimey, winter's here then!
It's as if with the turn of the calendar onto Dec 1 the frost has arrived right on cue.
It's not making for very pleasant running conditions as the video in my last blog will testify. I'm still recovering from Sunday's run. I measured it on one of the Google pedometer things and it was just over nine miles in total.
I thought I had run ten, so I'm a little disappointed as it means I am a long way off the ten minute mile pace I am aiming to hit for the day itself. But still got time to get to that.
It was the first two hour run of my training though, which is an important milestone. It was crazy conditions though as parts of the Portway, the road that runs along the river at the bottom of the gorge, was ankle deep in water. I couldn't get any wetter if I'd been at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean taking a shower.
But it is definitely paying off in terms of increasing fitness levels and losing weight.
I weighed myself at home yesterday, as I couldn't make the official Weight Watchers weigh in, and I'm down to 15st 8lbs, which is great progress.
One of the real bonuses of the week is that I dug out a winter coat I bought at my slimmest a few years ago, which has been hibernating at the back of the cupboard along with all those 15" collar shirts and 32" waist jeans.
But I'm pleased to say it fits again, it's the return of the mac, as it were. To be fair it's a little snug and I can't wear it with the lining in it, but I can wear it over my suit and just about get the buttons done up. Crucially it doesn't look like I'm bursting out of it.

Managed to do the 35 minute run that is down on my training plan tonight, although it wasn't very pleasant. Wasn't really in the mood for it, but it's done.

I've just been offered a place in the Weston-super-Mare Christmas Cracker 10K which is in about ten days, so I'm a bit excited about that. I've seen them doing it for years, but never had a go myself. I think it will be good to enter it and put myself to the test, especially as it's along the beach and will probably be foul conditions. Bring it on I say.

Two hour run - video diary

I was down to do a 100 minute run on my plan tonight and I really wasn't looking forward to it. The conditions were awful, but once I got going I really got into it and in the end ran for two hours and five minutes, which covered about ten miles.

Fairly exhausting so I did a video about it which you can see on You Tube here:

http://qurl.com/sz43c

It's a twister!

Looks like I'm beating the bad weather.
I've been out about three times on my own in the past few weeks in the crappy winter storms, and managed to keep going and get through it.
I make that point about being on my own merely because it is so much easier to stay at home if you're not meeting anybody for a run, but I've resisted that temptation.
Besides, there really are many more people doing far worse things on a daily basis than worrying about a little bit of wind and rain. People get shot at or blown up in Afghanistan for a living, or abused on the emergency wards of Bristol's hospitals or school classrooms every day. None of which I've ever thankfully had to contend with.
The chocolate ban is working well too I feel, suddenly starting to feel much less flabby and the huge belly that wobbled a few feet in front of me wherever I went has gone.
Although I am still a fairly hefty chap and have several stone to work through.

Had a great run last night. I was down to do 50 mins on the plan, so actually headed out on a route that I thought would take an hour, and deliberately went out of my way to make up the time. But when I got home I looked at my watch and it had taken 54 mins, so I'm definitely getting quicker.
I had a horrible moment half way through when I thought disaster had struck. I was running up one side of the Downs, the side that is lit (although not very well), and stepped of the kerb to cross the road when I felt my ankle twist underneath me.
It was that horrible sickening feeling which produced a string of extreme expletives as I stumbled across the road.
For a second or two I thought I was going to collapse in the road with some major ligament damage and I could already imagine the doctor saying to rest it for two months and what a disaster that would be for the run.
It really made me realise just how important this whole thing is to me. In a split second the thought that I might not be able to take part due to a stupid injury filled me with devastation and anger. I was extremely and offensively angry at whoever it was that had decided not to have very many lights along that stretch of path, and for having to look out for cars coming up a road which should be pedestrianised.
I was just thinking about calling Amy to come and rescue me in a medi-vac style when I realised the pain was subsiding as quickly as it had risen. After a few seconds I was walking on it and within a minute I knew I could run it off so started back on my run and it was fine. All a bit melodramatic perhaps, and a good job no passing vicars were around to hear me, but it was a horrible moment in which everything felt like it could come crashing down, me included.
Glad to have a rest day today mind, although the ankle feels fine, back to it tomorrow ahead of a 100 minute run on Sunday, which I'm really looking forward to.

Today's weigh-in, and other issues.

Pic caption: My car is as close to this as I am to Brad Pitt. We might be the same make, but don't look quite the same.


God does have a sense of humour, the little roister doister.
Had a great weigh-in, as it were, down to 15 st 10 lbs today, which feels like some proper progress down through the 15s rather than hanging round the border regions with 16, not making any real commitment to the new world ahead.
So that's great and in my head I think it has to do with stepping up the running and ditching the chocolate last week.
Even if that isn't the reason, I'm going to content myself that it is, and so be able to remember that when I next feel a chocolate wobble coming on.
So feeling all happy about that I didn't even mind the force 9 gale I had to battle through that seem to be sweeping the country, not complaining of course, things are clearly much worse elsewhere.
But my mood was brought crashing down to soggy wet earth after a quick phone call from the garage where my car is being serviced, to be told there's a whole load of other problems and if I want it fixed (which I should because it could be dangerous), then it'll cost me just over £500, inc VAT. Nice one.
Whoever it is upstairs clearly likes to inflate your hapiness one moment, merely to make the bubble perfect to burst with the other.
There's nothing quite like a call from a garage to make a grown man weep. I should rename my car the Citroen Bottomless Pit, which would also be handy rhyming slang for it.
I know it's my fault for buying French. I happen to like France and all things of that country, and I simply refuse to believe every single car that rolls of the channel ferry from that great historic nation, has bits falling off or hasn't been put together properly.
Still, I also managed to score a couple of weeks freelance work in December today which was two good bits of news against the one big bad bit of news. So I'm still up, I reckon. And I'll need that couple of weeks work even more now!

Giving up the hard stuff

 No more choccy treats

Giving up the booze was easy-peasy. Quitting fags? A no-brainer. Removing chocolate from my diet? That's a little harder it seems.
I don't know at what point I became a male version of a terrible Bridget Jones cliche, stuck in a fat bloke's body who wants to do little more than devour a slab of Dairy Milk (fruit and nut), wearing my comfy tracksuit bottoms and hoodie, sat in front of an emotionally challenging film. It feels at times like I'm stuck in some hideous alternative dimension where all I crave is chocolate. And perhaps a bottle of wine.
So, I decided this week that I would knock the deadly cocoa-bean into touch, but it's easier said than done and on Tuesday night I found myself actually craving it, in the same way a junkie craves smack. Well, maybe not quite the same, but in a relative way, it was very tough and weridly more difficult than I thought it would be.
I had to find some way of distracting myself from the obsession that was forming in my mind about chocolate and in the end all I could do was go to sleep.
How ridiculous, it really is. But it's been a few days now, and strangely I haven't suffered any psychologically damaging withdrawal symptoms, but I do think a chocolate ban is having a positive effect. I know it's really pretty obvious that cutting down on foods that make you fat will help you to lose weight, but I've been finding it hard to give up on those little treats.
I have done a lot of running this week though and I'm feeling a little trimmer, so I really want to build on that and get out of the 16st rut I've been in for weeks.
I went out on Friday and a few people reckoned I was looking slimmer, which was really nice. The running is really starting to make a difference now I feel, and tonight I did my 90 minutes as scheduled, even in the rain and cold, and it felt really good.
So I'm going to go for a weigh in tomorrow, for the first time in ages I'm feeling more confident about losing a few pounds as the bathroom scales said 15st 8 lbs this weekend, which would be great if that was official.
Fingers crossed.

Another day, another running plan

You know, there was a time when I used to think about how to bring down the government from within, or fight to achieve world peace equality for all.
Now, I think about why that wooden spoon never gets properly clean in the dishwasher and whether the new plates will stack upright.
Anyway, had plenty to think about on my run tonight.
It's been ten days or so since I did my eight mile run, but I met up with Marc and Dave, the other two members of the FB Running Club, for our usual Wednesday jaunt.
Dave has just returned triumphant from Amsterdam where he ran the marathon there in 3hrs and 58 mins, which is pretty impressive I think.
By rights he really doesn't qualify for the FB Running Club, and nor does Marc come to that, but it's a great help to have them both along.
We did the Bridge Run tonight, fighting bravely against the bitter wind, and the other two did well to keep up with me, and by that I mean run slowly enough to stay with me.
We did it in about an hour and six minutes, about the same time I did it before. Importantly it felt quite comfortable running for about an hour, which I'm really encouraged about.
This week marks the start of a new training plan.
I have decided the official one from the marathon website isn't right for me. It's too many sessions, up to six a week, which I can't really do.
Marc has a plan which he used very successfully last year so we are going to stick to that. Although I didn't start very well as I was supposed to start it on Monday this week, but I couldn't find the motivation.
Still adjusting to the change in seasons, much worse ahead I fear, but I know the hardest training is going to have to happen in the rubbishest winter.
The new plan includes some three to four hour runs, which the other one didn't although there was more training.
It's really important for me be able to get up to 20 miles at least once before the big day, ideally a couple of times really.
But what is also important is buying my tea before I go running, rather than crawling around the supermarket just after running for an hour, feeling ravenous with hunger and spending more than £20 on one meal because I couldn't stop shoving really yummy things into my basket. Pork pies, hmmm. Probably didn't need that bumper bag of Minstrels.

Snag

Day two of the great porridge and soup diet has hit a bit of a snag. I've run out of clean saucepans.
As great as porridge is, and I do genuinely love it, making it in a saucepan does add an element of arsery and as I've been working elsewhere this week, in a proper office, I've not had time to wash them up.
So was back to corn flakes this morning.
I know porridge can be done in the bowl in a microwave, but that always ends up a right mess. For some reason, no matter how hard I try to get the measurements right, it always seems to explode and I'm left with the inside of the microwave looking like an accident in a fireworks factory in a leper colony. Ew.
Running with the FB Running Club tonight, hope it's not too grim out there.

The Porridge and Soup diet

Pic caption: How I'll be looking after eating porridge for the next six months, without the skirt or Freddie Mercury-style white vest. I never realised how homo-erotic that cereal packet really is.
 

I know I have about as much patience as Basil Fawlty on a bad day having to put up with a coach-load arthritic 90-year-olds attending a pet sloth convention, but I don't think it's unreasonable to expect to see some kind of payoff on the scales after running 8 flippin' miles in the cold and wet last night.
But no, the digital dictator in the bathroom mocks me with its stubborn reading of 16 stone, still. In fact that's more than I was this time last week.
So I got a bit huffy and kicked them across the bathroom floor and was mildly satisfied by the crashing sound it made against the skirting board, the mechanical equivalent of bone-crunching.
I guess that packet of Maryland choc chip cookies I rewarded myself with last night wasn't really the sort of reward that would do me any good. And if push comes to shove I have to admit I didn't need to finish Amy's pasta for her either, especially as she had barley rested her fork at the edge of the plate before it was scooped away to my side of the dinner table.
I think this is the hardest point, denying myself lots of food after having gone out and done loads of exercise. In my head it should mean I can eat what I like, and maybe a few years ago that was true, but not now. Of course.
I feel that while my training is going well and there's some real good progress being made in the mileage I'm racking up, all the wobbly bits are still wobbling and the fight against the flab has rather stalled.
This is annoying because of course the lighter I am the easier it will be to run, but also because I set myself this ridiculous goal of losing eight stone by the time I line up for the marathon, which is now less than 6 months away.
So, in a bid to make some real progress in the war on lard, I am adopting a radical new diet recommended to me by the eminent sports and nutrition expert Professor Marc Cooper, fresh from his recent sacking by the Government on account of his opening remarks on the Committee for the Reduction of Anal Palpatations which went along the lines of "Now, I'm not doctor, but..."
Anyway, Marc suggested a while back that a diet of porridge for breakfast and soup for lunch has worked wonders for a friend of his who shed loads of weight sticking to that and not snacking.
I have some faith in this approach as when I had my record-breaking healthy year a few years back I did eat a lot of porridge and it was great for releasing energy slowly and providing energy all day, and all that.
So from today my breakfast and lunch is going to be more predictable than a Jordan and Peter Christmas reunion, and I will be enjoying a bowl of porridge in the morning, and one of the many tins of Heinz I stocked up on at the weekend for lunch.
I tried something similar with SlimFast a little while ago, sticking just to their milkshakes, but got very bored and quite repulsed by the thought of milkshake ever again, so ditched it.
I'm hoping the little dollop of jam in the porridge, which is a lot less bad than you might think, and a range of interesting soups may stop that happening. I'm determined to give it a go this week and see if it makes a difference at my next Weight Watchers weigh in next Monday. I've decided not to go this week.
Plus I'll be doing a few runs this week to help. I'm kinda getting into the winter training thing. In the film of my life which plays out in my head most of the time, running the cold and dark is the real heroic part, like in Rocky when he's training in Siberia. The Downs in the winter are very much the same.

8 mile and running

If I see another thirtysomething bloke walking around the supermarket with his arse hanging out of his jeans in a pair of manky pants, I'm going to really think hard about maybe saying something.
If you're a 19-year-old lingerie model, of either gender, with a body like an ironing board, I must admit it probably looks kind of cool to have your finest pair of CK's popping out the top of your jeans, but not if your clearly in your mid-thirties doing the weekly shop. It borders on offensive.
Sainsbury's in Clifton Down is a regular source of amazement, but luckily my daily trip didn't distract me too much from my plan to do a big run today.
I wanted to get up to about ten k today but did more than that and ended up running just over 8 miles.
It was one of those great runs when everything just went right and felt great.
I had the right tunes on my iPod, the conditions were good, although I did cop a shower half way down the Portway, and I just felt like I had so much energy in my legs that I could keep going as long as I wanted to.
I started off on the Downs, headed down the Portway, came back up Bridge Valley Road, past the zoo, back on to the Downs and round the smaller half again. I hadn't intended to run that far, but I swear I could have kept going if I was meant to do the full 26.2 miles tonight.
It felt great because I only did 2 runs last week, but maybe the fresh legs helped. It took me 1hr and 55mins, which is about a six hour marathon time. No surprise, still carrying a lot of weight and in fact I'd be happy with six hours, if I could keep going that long anyway.
It was a great morale booster to the training to be able to run all the way, now hoping it will be reflected in my weigh in tomorrow.
I'm also hoping the big bowl of pasta I had for dinner and packet of cookies earlier won't have done too much damage. But after running for nearly two hours I was a bit hungry.

Went to a wedding party last night (lime sodas all night) and caught up with lots of people I haven't seen for a while, and was surprised by how many of them read the blog, so thanks for the support, and thanks again to all those who have donated in the last day or so. It's all starting to come together and for the first time I can start to imagine myself on the start line on April 25 and taking on the marathon.

Thank you

On Wednesday I launched my fundraising campaign by emailing and sending messages on Facebook to everybody I know, and some people I don't know very well, basically begging for money.
The response has been fantastic and I would like to say thanks to everybody who has pledged so far.
Thanks to the donations on www.justgiving.com/simonpeevers in the past four days I have managed to reach ten per cent of my £3000 target, which is a lot healthier than the 1 per cent I had before.
This is just the start of what I am hoping will be a long and sustained campaign to hit the target before too long.
Anybody who has done anything similar and has any useful tips would be great to hear from.

It does make me feel more determined to finish as well and I've a couple of good training runs this week.
This weekend I'm looking forward to a big run, about 10K, the first for a while. Hoping to do it before the rain engulfs the entire country as they said on the weather.

This challenge is really important to me personally, not because it plays to my vanity and wanting to look better having lost lots of weight, but genuinely because of the fantastic work done by the surgeons, nurses and everybody else at Southampton General Hospital, and the follow up treatment in Bristol.
I still can't believe that they were able to crack open my chest and stick a new part in my heart, sew me up and give me a new lease of life without me feeling a thing. It's a routine op for sure, but still pretty bloody amazing that we are able to do that.
So it's really in honour of them and the great work they do that I'm more than happy to put myself through a few months of physical pain. Which is ironic considering how hard they worked to make sure I didn't feel any pain.

So thanks again for all your donations, and thanks in advance to anybody who is thinking about making a donation and helping to beat the UK's biggest killer.

www.justgiving.com/simonpeevers
www.bhf.org.uk

A leap forward?

Pic caption: A bit like how I imagined myself running in the rain tonight

I feel I've managed to grow a little over the past 24 hours.
Not in a physical sense, and in fact I've lost 2 lbs since my last weigh in. Current fighting weight 15st 12.5lbs.
What I mean is that last night, Sunday, I went out for a run as per my schedule which said I should be running for an hour.
But it just didn't happen. I felt like crap, my legs wouldn't work properly, and I just didn't want to be out there. Not in the way that sometimes you don't fancy it but push on and it gets better.
It was almost a primal sense of hostility against the very environment around me, the forboding skies, the wind and general autumn gloom in the air.
Some might say I just couldn't be arsed, which is possibly true as well. But the weirdest thing I've discovered is that if I go running after a hard day at work, I can really get into it and feel really strong and enjoy it.
But if like on Sunday, I've done less with my day than the Equal Opps Officer at the BNP, I find it a real struggle to actually run any distance. I wonder if my muscles find it harder to deal with if all they've had to flex for is finding the remote.
So, back to my original point, about growing and that. I gave up the run after the first few minutes, I did keep walking the route though, but in the end jacked in the whole thing and I was out for about 40  minutes. Probably about 15, maybe 20 tops was actually running.
Normally when that kind of thing happens I get more moody than a sulky teenager who's just been told Muse have split up. However, because I know I can run for an hour plus, I chalked up last night's aborted effort as a bad day, and instead of spitting my dummy out and thinking I'm never going to get better, resolved to get back out there tonight.
And hey, whaddya know, tonight I had a great run, did an hour and five mins without stopping, and even put up with the driving rain.
This means I can take a mature attitude to these things and not just give up at the first sign of struggle, which at 34-year-old is probably the least you might expect of a grown adult.
I went back to an old route I haven't done for a while, which starts at the Downs, goes past the Zoo, up through Clifton Down and then round to the Suspension Bridge. Over the bridge, which is great with all the lights of the city below and the lights on the bridge, then though Abbots Leigh, and back again.
I think it's somewhere between four and five miles, can't be sure, but it's a great route, despite the worrying lack of street lighting in parts, and I love running over the bridge. It's a bit like if you live in London or Paris and you have Big Ben or the Eifel Tower on your route, which I'm sure Londoners and Parisians alike would scoff at but the bridge is as iconic and just as great a symbol of engineering genius. It is to me anyway.
The second half of the run was a bit wet as it started hammering down but it only added to my own sense of heroics as I crashed fearlessly through puddle after puddle, laughing in the face of precipitous downpour.
Hope I've not given myself a cold mind.
The weekend just gone marked an important milestone in the plan as it is now six months exactly until I'm on that starting line with a million others, wondering what the hell I'm doing there.
It made me think I've really got to start taking the weight loss seriously, so I was glad to have lost a couple of pounds today.
And I've also got to pull my finger out with the fundraising, so anybody who's got to this end bit without falling asleep, and who feels like sponsoring me, please check out the Just Giving button on the right of the page, every donation is much appreciated.

One hour plus run

Managed to do my first one hour plus run since starting my marathon training plan.
There was a fairly chilly breeze blowing around Bishopston as I stepped out into the early evening, my pastey white legs braced against the cold.
The first ten minutes was the worst as usual, but it was even more painful as my calf muscles felt really stiff, so I had to walk for a bit to get up the hill.
But after getting out on the flat of the Downs it all got much better and after about 35 mins I was purring along like Jenson Button cruising through Sao Paulo to the chequered flag. Sort of.
It struck me as I plodded round that it would be a really bloody good idea for Bristol City Council to stick some lights all the way around the Downs. I mean, for all the money that gets caned on bus routes and pointless dribbling fountains in the city centre, why not do some good and light up the Downs so that during the long dark winter months people like me who actually want to spend their evenings running around outside, can do so in safety and without fear of being mugged, murdered or stumbling upon some horrendous dogging/swinging/outdoor car sex antics, which are really best left on dodgy websites a long way beyond the firewall of the imagination.
Still, unlikely to happen in my lifetime I expect.
I finally made it home after one hour and eight minutes. I had intended to go out longer, but thought best not to wear myself out with a heavy workload to get through at the moment as well.
Next meeting of the FB Running Club on Wednesday.

Running down the clock

Just back from a great run. I was down to do a 40 minute jog this evening, but thought I would push it up to an hour because I didn't do anything last night.
So after slogging up Cranbrook Road and getting onto the Downs I was feeling really good and headed for a route which took me an hour last time I did it.
Against the backdrop of the blood-orange sun setting behind the Downs I trogged along pretty well, trying not to go too fast and enjoying the thumping beats in my earphones drowning out the sound of the traffic, (if only I had something to keep the fumes out of my lungs, but I refuse to wear a mask).
I deliberately didn't look at my watch until I got back home and I was amazed to find the run had taken me 50 minutes. I can't believe I've knocked ten minutes off the run since I did it last time.
I must have been taking it real slow last time, and maybe I got a little ahead of myself tonight, but either way I've knocked a load of time off and that feels great.
Going for an hour and 20 on Sunday. Just the small matter of a wedding in between now and then.

But actually I'm even more amazed at Coronation Street. For a start I cannot believe it's been a year already since Liam died, cruelly cut down in his prime thanks to that dodgy Tony bloke. And now he's proposed to Maria and she's engaged! Unbelievable. No wonder Liam's ma's upset, indecent haste indeed!
Kevin Webster makes the most unlikely philanderer and I just don't buy the whole little affair between Craig Charles and that old trog.
Good to see Leannne Battersby back on her feet though, as it were.

It's all in the planning

Been a bit of an up and down sort of week. Not quite like a roller coaster, probably more like when you drive along and go over those funny little humps in the road and your tummy goes all tickly. Anybody else get that as a kid? No? Just me then.
Anyway been running quite well, been out Monday, Wednesday with the FB Running Club and should be going out tonight. Also got a 70 minute jog planned for Sunday.
Maybe it's my old bones, but I just can't get myself out five or six nights on the trot, it's just knackering.
So I'm sticking to the scheduled running slots, and not bothering with the fartleks and stuff. Is this a grave mistake?
I compared my plan with one that Marc has done before, which is a 16 week week schedule and I was surprised how different it was.
On my plan, which is the intermediate level straight off the official London Marathon website, there are no runs over about two hours, and considering I expect to be on my feet for at least five hours, I'm kind of surprised.
Whereas Marc's Plan, as it's now known, has a number of three hour plus runs, and I think psychologically it is important to have done a few very long runs. I want to be able to run 20 miles at least twice before race day. God knows I can't even imagine that right now, but it would be great to do that.
It would also be quite good to actually start losing weight, I still seem to be stuck at 16 stone, feel like I've been here for months. I expected to plateau but not with six stone to go.
Bit worried about making the target now. The important thing is to be fit enough on the day to run the marathon, but I would love to hit my goal, this blog is after all called How 2 Lose 8 Stone, not, How 2 Lose a Couple of Stone and Whinge About Not Being able to Lose Any More.

The future may be bright, but the shop assistant sure ain't!

Caption: How I look in a phone shop

Quite a busy day, and lengthy.
Up at 5 this morning to get out to the studios of Original FM in time for my radio debut and chance to blab on about running the marathon.
I think it went okay, the three people I know who listened, including the presenter, seemed to think I didn't sound like a complete arse, so that's good.
They are going to send me the audio clip so I can post it on this site, so you've no reason to miss the unmissable, as they say.
Some good news from Marc, who has up to this point had to take things easily because of a dodgy back, as he has now decided to run the London Marathon as well.
This is great, as we can hopefully keep each other going through those bleak winter months of training, which is pretty much now until the run.
Some goodish news at Weight Watchers as I am the same weight as I was last week, 16st and a half pound, so not gained any, but had hoped to lose some.
Had a good run along the beach at Weston on Saturday, went out for an hour, apparently at the same time some bloke on jet skis was sinking into the sand off the coast, after trying to jetski from Wales.
Luckily we missed the carnage of the motocross the next day.
But most impressed with myself for getting out to run this evening. There was a definite chill in the dark air, but I was brave, and did my 30 minutes.
I was however less than impressed by the spotty nerks that pass for sales assistants these days.
I was passing through the city centre and thought I'd pop into my local Orange shop for some information about when they get the iPhone, as I'm quite keen to get one. In fact, more excited than when I got the Millennium Falcon for my birthday when I was ten, and I even skived a day off school that day.
But shortly after entering the store I found myself standing there in the middle of the shop like a member of a lost Amazonian forest tribe, who'd accidentally stumbled into the middle of the set of Blade Runner. It seemed as if it would be far too much like arseache for any of the 12-year-olds huddled around the till fornicating over the lastest piece of telecoms hardware like it was x-rated porn, to even register my existence.
Is this what service has come to in this country? Basically we don't care that you're stood waiting like an idiot who's lost his village because we have more customers than we can count spots on our foreheads and one more grumpy old git who thinks it's vaguely amusing to say 'I just want to make phone calls', when asked what sort of features he wants on this most advanced piece of technological innovation, can in all honesty shove it up his lardy arse.
Well, that was what went through my head, so I thought it best to leave. Little did they know how easily a fool like me is parted with several hundred quid in exchange for a phone that makes a sound like a light sabre when you shake it in front of the ever-decreasing circle of friends who still find that amusing in their mid-30s.
There's always running I guess, you can't go wrong with that.

Radio Fat Bloke

If you're in Bristol, and you're up early on Monday, you may be able to tune into my dulcet tones on the radio at 6.45am.

I've managed to get a slot on Original 106.5 FM to talk about the London Marathon, fundraising and trying to lose eight stone.

I'll be doing the newspaper review, and then blabbing on trying to get people to go to www.justgiving.com/simonpeevers to sponsor me and raise money for the British Heart Foundation.
Did you know heart disease is the biggest killer in the UK? I didn't mean that to sound so bleak, just making the point that it is such a worthwhile charity to back as any money raised for BHF is channelled to life-saving projects and research all over the country.

You can also listen online, wherever you are in the world, if you would want to, by going to www.originalbristol.com

Right, I'm off for my 60 minute jog as the sun is shining, for the time being. Planning to head down to Weston-super-Mare to run along the front with Amy, which should be just the kind of day out that every girlfriend dreams of their bloke treating them to;-)

Boringly good news

I realise a bit of drama makes for a more interesting read, but things have taken a turn for the mundane lately which is great for me, not so great for the blog.
I managed most of my training plan last week so when I went for a weigh in at my Weight Watchers meeting I was pleasantly surprised to find I had lost four and a half pounds.
That's about the same weight as a decent sized chicken, with giblets, which is quite a lot.
God knows where that went, but I'm hoping for similar lossage next week. Although, I think I might prefer a roast chicken, with mash and gravy and lovely roasted leeks.
Hmmmm, getting hungry now, must crack open a can of Weight Watchers vegetable soup and the rye bread.

Running for an hour

You know you've got a problem when you Domino Pizza is texting you to tell you about their new special offers.
My number must have appeared in the 'regular caller' list enough times for them to be sure I was going to come running, or perhaps waddling, at the prospect of a free pizza or portion of chicken dippers.
But no, my pepperoni slicing friends, I cannot be tempted back to the dark side any longer. It has been a while since I tucked into a large Full House with extra cheese and some other crap on the side, and I'm pleased about that.
Although I did have a posh burger in the Hop House in Clifton the other night for me dinner. You know the kind, not that distantly related to Burger King, but about twice the price.
The good news is that I have managed to get all the way through the first week of my training plan and haven't really transgressed too badly.
Well, I did walk for two hours instead of jogging for 20 mins on Thursday, and I gave myself a rest day on Friday instead of 35 mins fartlek, and I swapped my Sunday run to Saturday, which means I am resting today.
But I think it's fair enough to adapt these things and I do think one rest day a week is a bit daft, I'll wear myself out before the end of October at that rate.
So I did my one hour run yesterday and I thought it went really well. I kept it to a steady jogging pace and included a couple of hills as well. It wasn't until I got home to check it off the plan that I saw that it should have been a run rather than a jog, but there's no way I could have run flat out for an hour, who the hell do they think I am?
Truth is it was probably somewhere between the two and today I feel fine, so I'm pretty pleased with my progress so far. And according to my dodgy bathroom scales I have lost five pounds this week. We'll see how true that is tomorrow at the weigh in.
Looking forward to next week's training already.

Walking before running

I was supposed to do a 20 minute jog yesterday but actually I ended up walking around for Clifton for two hours as part of my job for Clifton People, and I reasoned that that was just as good.
I was definitely knackered by the end of it and a bit sweaty (which you probably don't want to know), and don't they say that is a sign that you have been working out? Mind you I get a similar result climbing the stairs these days!
I'm considering having a rest day today though, as I am due to go on a 60 minute run/jog/schlepp tomorrow and then it's lunch at Amy's parents on Sunday, so I don't expect to be doing that much running then.
Maybe a swim in the evening though?
I did rather enjoy my walk around Clifton yesterday afternoon, it's not a bad job going round telling everybody to join Clifton People and trying to build an online community for "Bristol's smartest district". God I'm such a terrible snob, the worst kind for not being properly posh, just pretentiously middle class. Or 'aspirational' they call it these days I believe.
Anyway, if you haven't done so yet, do have a look at Clifton People and if you live in the area, or even if you don't, sign up for free and use it like Facebook or however you want.
Without trying to sound like a salesman, you do get the chance to win a free spa treatment and dinner at a posh hotel by signing up at the moment, so it's got to be worth it right?
I'm just going to read up on how to do a fartlek and prepare for this evening's 35 minute session.

First meeting of the all new F B Running Club

Had a great run last night at the first meeting of the all-new Fat Bastards' Running Club.
Myself and Marc were joined by Dave and his wife Tina, who really don't qualify as proper FBs in the lardy sense, but wanted to join us for a run anyway which was really nice.
Dave and Tina have been there and done it where my challenge is concerned, but they both run so that they can enjoy the good things in life, which is just the right attitude for the club.
According to the plan I should have been doing 30 mins fartleking, but I decided  running for that time was more useful. I promise to try fartleking soon, but I just want to get used to running again and try to build some fitness before trying to do anything exotic.
So we went round the Downs and it took about half an hour, and if I'm honest it was probably a little quicker than I would normally go, but that is what is great about running with other people, it really helps to push yourself.
I wasn't overdoing it and I know it's really the sort of pace I should be doing anyway, so it was a really good run from that point of view, I'm still a little bit pleased with myself for being able to keep going.
I also have to say what nice people Dave and Tina are and how much I appreciate the fact they are up for training with us because it's that kind of support that I think is going to be crucial in getting through the bleak winter and all those long runs.
Anyone else who fancies it are still more than welcome, every Wednesday at 5.30, meet at the water tower on the Downs. Thanks to the London-based readers of this blog who said they'd like to join if only they didn't live at the wrong end of the M4.
But here we are, the movement has started, as it were. I'm sure there must be plenty of people out there who want to run but can't keep up with club runners or who feel a bit intimidated by how fit they all are.
I've decided that after next week, which is really busy in terms of some work I'm doing, I'm going to start my publicity campaign to try to get those donations rolling in and start the fundraising.
Still waiting for my fundraising pack from the British Heart Foundation, hope they haven't forgotten me.
I signed up for some training advice on the BHF website. You fill out a questionnaire and they get back to you with a plan tailored for your needs. I think they must still be laughing at the answers I gave, as it asks for height and weight, and if you've had any health issues. I can almost hear them guffawing, and thinking "and he wants to run a marathon? No chance!"
Just a brisk 20 minute jog on the slate for today. Still not sure that one rest day a week is a good thing, and I've just looked ahead to week three to see there is no rest day at all! Mind you, all that lard isn't going to shift itself is it?

Training Day 2, this time it's personal

Just finished the 30 minute jog as per my training plan for day 2.
It was okay, and I'm quite pleased with the fact that I managed to keep going for 30 minutes without stopping and I didn't really feel too bad afterwards.
It made me feel good about the prospect of building on what fitness I already have, which must be a little bit more than I thought. I mean, I did run half of a half marathon.
About half way through I got that feeling you get after a while when you feel you can run forever.
It lasts for approximately three and a half minutes during which time I feel free as a bird, my legs are working like little pistons and I can breathe in the whole world. Coupled with the sounds of Brit Pop's finest I'm transported back to somewhere into the mid 1990s when my cares and waistline were both far less than they are now.
Bring on the fartlek!

In training

Week 1, day 1 of my 24 week training plan done and dusted.
Jogging for ten minutes, followed by running for ten minutes.
Oh yes, I saw that one off, got that well and truly beaten, no problemo.
I wonder if the rest off my gruelling regime will be as straight forward? I doubt it. As first steps go, this is the first pinkie landing on the Rift Valley heading north.
It was a bit weird though trying to jog and then run, as I've never made a distinction between the two before.
So for my jog I slowed right down, which is harder than it sounds. I kept wanting to speed up as even stationary vehicles seemed to go past me.
Then I kicked into my 'run', which was not much faster than my jog, but my feet hit the ground a lot harder, so it seemed harder work.
It was okay to tell the truth, I wasn't exactly running as fast as I could, but definitely stepped it up a gear.
I managed not to gorge myself too much today either. Had a sensible breakfast, a sensisble lunch, a bit of a larey dinner and a cheeky little fruit yoghurt. So my diet is getting back to healthy, just about.
Had a bit of a setback today as I went for a Weight Watchers weigh in for the first time in a month.
I've put on five and a half pounds and currently weigh 16st 5lbs. But considering I've been on holiday and had a bit of an up and down sort of month, it could have been a lot worse. I've certainly been able to pile on a stone in the past so five pounds is no big drama. With another five training sessions to squeeze in this week I should be lose that by next Monday in any case.
There is such a long way to go of course, but as I was trotting round the Downs with the most gorgeous sunset setting the sky behind ablaze in violent oranges and pinks, I was reminded of something my friend Marc said at the weekend.
A former marathon runner himself, he said that the marathon is the six months training between now and April 25. The run on the day through London is the lap of honour. This is where the marathon starts, not at the gun in Greenwich, but on the Downs by the Water Tower, trying not to get annoyed at all the other runners whizzing past as I huff and puff for 20 minutes in the fading light (probably not alone in that up there).
I thought that was quite a profound thing to say, and the most amazing thing about it was that we were only drinking a cup of tea.

It's a marathon, not a sprint!

Pic caption: The view from the top of a small mountain we accidentally climbed on holiday in Italy.

So this is where it starts.
I've downloaded the training plan from the official London Marathon website, and I've spent all weekend looking at it, and it looks as hard this morning as it did when I first looked at it three days ago.
For the first time the enormity of what I'm taking on has really hit me I think.
What I mean is, there's loads of training to do. The plan has me running, jogging and fartleking six times a week.
It's obviously much more than I have been used to in terms of training for a half marathon, and I know it's going to be tough, but somehow seeing it in black and white on the page, makes it all the more daunting.
It's also a bit weird to think that if I just follow the instructions, I will become a marathon runner at the end of it.
But following the instructions is the hard bit, I guess.
A few things slightly concern me, apart from the amount of training involved, such as the way it keeps saying jog for ten minutes, run for ten minutes, then jog again. As if they are two different things! I've only ever done running, always at the same pace, probably somewhere between what they consider a jog and a run.
I tried it out at the gym on Friday, which by the way I nearly got lost in it's been that long, by altering the speed on the treadmill.
I managed to switch from a very leisurely 5.5km, my jogging speed, to 7km for running, which at the end of ten minutes was quite hard work. I can't imagine doing a two hour 'run', like what it says.
I think I may have overreached myself by opting for the intermediate level training plan.
The website gives you three options for their 24 week plans, basic, intermediate and advanced.
Having recently completed half a half marathon, and having run regularlyish this year, I felt confident that the intermediate level would be about right. Don't want to plonk myself in the absolute beginners class. But looking at it again, it may be more realistic to do the 'easy' plan, which I'm sure will be challenging enough.
As I say I went back into the gym on Friday for the first time in a while and it was okay actually, did about half an hour and found I sort of enjoyed it.
Starting the training at the beginning again takes some of the pressure off in a way, I can just do ten minutes here and there on the machines, a few ab curls and press ups and that's me sorted.
I didn't do very much training in Italy the week before on holiday, as you can imagine.
I felt like it was the last chance to have a good blowout before the abstinence starts. There's something quite decadent about popping into a restaurant for lunch and knocking down a bottle of wine for the hell of it, before getting ready for the evening's imbibing.
It was a lovely holiday from that point of view. And we didn't just sit around drinking all day every day. We took what we thought was going to be a romantic walk along the coastal path up to some beautiful fishing villages along the coastline of the Cinque Terre. But the path was closed because of rain, weirdly, so we decided to take an alternative route which took us inland and across a couple of hills.
Except these hills were more like small mountains and we spent hours scaling them as we had accidentally stumbled into a fairly serious hiking route.
We were dressed for a short stroll along the coastal path, not quite in flip-flops but just a flimsy pair of Adidas, and Amy with her handbag, when all these very serious looking walkers kitted out with Nordic walking sticks, stout walking boots, rucksacks with the kind of kit the A-Team would be jealous of and determined looks on their faces kept passing us.
About an hour and a half into the walk we realised we were way in over our heads when we had to walk over the hill, which was over 400 metres high, across the face of the steep terraced vinyards.
The path at times was little more than a foot wide and dropped away to our left down hundreds of metres of steep terrace leading down to some less than soft looking rocks.
I was scared, Amy was scared, but we both fronted it out, I couldn't let her know the fear going through me and tried to treat it like a stroll down to the shops. It wasn't until we got back down to the safety of a pizzeria that we confessed how scared we were.
It was a hell of a walk, over four hours and revealed some amazing views. But I think it would have been a more comfortable experience if I wasn't slipping and sliding all over the place in my sneakers.
It definitely worked off some of that pasta and wine though.
And it was good to enjoy it as I'm not sure when I'm going to be able to go on holiday again now, life for the self-employed doesn't really offer up great perks like six weeks holiday a year.
Mind you, it seems like the whole process of going on holiday is more trouble than it's worth.
I have to admit that we left our preparation to the last minute, as usual, although I did at least get my passport renewed in time.
But about a day before we were due to fly out I popped into Cribbs Causeway to get a few things, like sun cream, and I swear I must forget how much of an absolute con that stuff is because I'm amazed every time how expensive it is.
All I bought was a couple of bottles and some stuff for the face, and it was over £40! How?!? I did ask if there was anything in it apart from sun cream, like liquid gold. Apparently not. I suspect it wasn't the first time she'd been asked that.
Then I went to M&S because I felt I should probably get a nice new pair of shorts for my hols, just so I could look even more like a tourist than I was already going to.
I went into the vast hangar of a store and asked the first helpful-looking assistant I saw if she could point me in the direction of shorts and that sort of thing.
She looked at me, removed her spectacles, furrowed her brow and said "Shorts?", in a tone that suggested I'd asked for a sample of moon rock. "I don't think we have any shorts at this time of year."
At this time of year? Why the hell not? It was pretty sunny outside and I was in fact wearing a pair of shorts at the time. Why can't you buy what you want, when you need it in this country? Why does stock have to be so rigidly seasonal? It was only a pair of shorts I was after, but you'd think I was trying to buy fresh asparagus.
But despite all that nonsense, and EasyJet's best attempts at destroying Amy's suitcase by presumably letting it drop out the back of the plane onto the runway while the plane was still in the air, we did have a great holiday, and Italy was fantastic as usual.
Got back home and suddenly autumn is floating in the air and we are heading into that long and tedious run up to you know what.
So, no time to lose, I'm off to start my training plan.

Calling All Fat Bastards - come and join me

The time for talking has past. The time for action is here.
Today I am launching my one-man campaign to raise fitness and fight obesity among the men of Bristol, by calling for people to join me in forming the all-new Fat Bastards' Running Club.
I've just read that back and realised what a load of nonsense it sounds, but it's all true.
I am now seven months away from lining up with tens of thousands of other loonies at the start of the London Marathon, and I've got a lot of work to do.
The idea of the campaign is to enlist the help of some other people who may be in a similar physical shape and have the same goal to want to get fit and lose weight, because I just don't think I can do it on my own.
The best training I have ever done in the past has been with other people as you really encourage each other and push further than you thought possible.
So the Fat Bastards' Running Club is launching a major recruiting drive for new members.
This is a running club with a difference. There are some minimum requirements that you will have to meet, or at least put up with.
For example, my current running speed is about 4mph, which is about the same speed as a brisk walk.
So if you can't handle running that slowly, it's not the club for you.
You don't have to be a 'fat bastard' necessarily, but the whole point of the club is that it is for people who don't get up in the morning and shave their legs to give them an extra half a second running between Bristol and Bath on their morning jaunt.
It is for overweight, unfit men who struggle to find the motivation to get fit on their own. Women are of course welcome too, on the same terms.
Unless you have a good case to argue, you also have to be over 30-years-old, as it's only when you start to cut a swath through your 30s that you realise how badly you've looked after yourself during your 20s.
It's for people like me, who find running really bloody hard work, but want to do it to achieve the ultimate goal of losing weigh and getting fit.
If you have a goal, perhaps it is the London Marathon, maybe the Bath or Bristol half marathons, or just to run regularly to lose weight, you can join this club and be among friends.
Obviously the idea is that over time you will graduate from the club and become a fit and healthy member of society again and will no longer wear the Fat Bastards' Running Club t-shirt that I'm planning to get printed, all sized XXL of course.
If, like me, you feel intimidated when you go to the gym, or couldn't possibly keep up with the running clubs or military fitness clubs you see on the Downs, this is the club for you.
It is going to be run on a very informal basis, no membership fee, no club colours, just a bunch of blokes (and women) trying to get fit helping each other run around the Downs. Just think how much more enjoyable the pub will be afterwards.
It's the best time to commit to something like this as well, because if you're a fat bastard you know the winter just means an extended period of grazing and putting on even more weight.
So, this is proper serious, if you live in Bristol, or even if you don't but can come and join us, let me know and I will, through this blog and Facebook, organise dates and locations for those first tentative runs.
Email me at simonpeevers@hotmail.co.uk or leave a comment on this blog and let me know if you're up for it.
Come on people! Witness the fatness!

Internet shminternet

Technology seems to be conspiring against me today, so much so that I can't actually do very much work.
It's astonishing how reliant I am on minor things like my broadband and various websites working properly.
It reminds of how crippled we felt when the fuel protesters came within a drop of unleaded of bringing the country to its knees.
The day didn't start well as for some reason my broadband at home isn't working today, so I find myself holed up in the Blue Lagoon on Glouester Road, making use of their wi-fi.
To be fair it's quite a nice relaxed place to shift the office to for the morning, but that's not really the point.
Even though the wi-fi is free, I did feel obliged to buy a coffee, and then the special breakfast.
Which brings me onto my next point. It really is time to shape up and stop getting back into bad old ways.
I'm feeling a bit like an oil tanker at the moment, for more than one reason.
I'm finding it hard to switch back into 'healthy Simon' mode, after being 'don't give a damn Simon' mode for a while.
I think when I thought I wouldn't get a place for the London Marathon a little bit of me decided to take the whole fitness regime a little less seriously, sub consciously of course.
But now I have got a place, I should be out at the gym or going for a run every day.
Instead my food consumption yesterday included half a big size Cadbury's Whole Nut bar (the other half went the night before), a healthyish lunch of salad and chicken, covered in olive oil and mayo, followed by a bacon and cheese panini about 5.30, two rounds of ham sandwiches during the football (weren't England great!) and a whole packet of Sainsbury's luxury Belgian chocolate and hazlenut cookies.
It's a bit like smoking, I know how bad it is, but I just can't seem to stop myself at the moment. Although I did conquer the fags and I'm never going back to those.
I have that pang of guilt coming out of the shop with a bag of sweets or something equally bad for me, which must be the same sense of shame a recovering alcoholic feels being spotted coming out of Threshers with a bottle under his arm.
I felt particularly down yesterday as I saw a photo of myself from the weekend at my brother's wedding.
The pics by his mate Mike Thomas were fantastic, he's a great photographer and to me eyes everybody looks cool, glam and beautiful, especially my girlfriend.
But I looked at it and thought, 'who's that fat bastard next to her? Oh, it's me'.
It inspires conflicting emotions, at the same time I feel like pigging out to make myself feel better, and starve myself to make myself feel better. But because it's much quicker and easier to polish off a box of cookies, that is the urge that wins out.
It's not an excuse but it has been a busy few weeks, I've had two big projects to get done before buggering off to Italy at the weekend.
I've been working all day, late into the night, and over the weekends, which tend to be booked up with stuff like weddings and half marathons.
So I have been exhausted and hungry and the fact is I haven't had to work full time for nearly six months so I'm probably not used to that either.
It's great to have lots of work, but of course it's all done sat on my backside, and the urge to go and exercise has been severly beaten by those bully boys Tired and Hungry.
But now I am looking forward to a week in Italy, having finished the work I was doing, and maybe I can come back fully refreshed, full of enthusiasm to take on the biggest physical and mental challenge I have ever faced.
I reckon I might need some help though and I'm considering a recruitment drive for the Fat Bastard Running Club, to see if there's anybody else in my position, and shape, who'd like to train with me to keep each other going.
Let me know if there is anybody out there who fancies joining me.

Bristol Half Marathon, 2009. Pants.

Pic caption: Running is hard work. Not a pic from today, but I looked very much the same.

Here's a tip for all you half marathon runners out there. Don't duck out of the start to go to the loo as I did today, as you will find the entire 20,000 other runners have legged it away and left you on your own, plum last, with a lot of ground to cover.
It couldn't have been much of a worse start if I'd broken both my kneecaps and decided to run blindfolded.
I started with the pink numbers, which was the last section in the second wave of runners. For the first time in Bristol they split the start into two waves, the first presumably with proper runners, and the second half an hour later with the rest of us. I was a bit late joining them so I was already quite close to the back, but as we shuffled down to the start two things started to bother me. The first was that all the runners around me looked much fitter than me, which I know isn't hard but this was supposed to be the section for all honorary members of the Fat Bastard's Running Club. Clearly they had taken the whole thing much more seriously than me. The second thing was that I really needed the loo, having drunk several pints of water the night before and this morning. (I somehow also managed to drink nothing but soda and lime all day at my brother's wedding the day before)
I just nipped into a portaloo, and when I came back out, everybody had run off down the road, power walkers included, which meant there was not a single runner around me. I crossed the start line totally on my own, to the slightly ironic cheering of the crowd. It was nice to have all those people cheering for me, and I virtually sprinted away as I felt I had to put a bit of effort into it.
So in the end I started in the unofficial third wave, except it was less of a wave and more of trickle, or possibly even a drip.
Things didn't get much better after that. Just before the first mile was up I started to feel sick, and indeed tired.
I reflected that the bag of Minstrels for breakfast was probably not as good an idea as I first thought.
My legs were already giving way and I had to stop for fear of being sick. After a bit of a coughing fit I felt a bit better and started up again.
The first mile is always the worst anyway and for the next half hour or so I managed to get up a bit of momentum and slowly started passing some of the tail-enders, power walkers that is.
My proudest moment was passing the 'cardiac rehab walkers', which was a group of men who had clearly recently had heart surgery and were getting back to fitness. I know what they have been through as that was me a couple of years ago, but I didn't even attempt anything as admirable as that in my cardiac rehab. I felt a little pang as I went past them, I thought it might have been a stitch but I think it was shame for being so useless compared to them.
The stark reality of the situation soon hit me though, I simply was not fit enough to take on 13.1 miles.
My preparation had been woeful. After the 10K run in May I did really kick on and made some good progress but the past month to six weeks everything had come to a bit of a halt.
I hadn't given myself the best chance as I have been working pretty hard for the past couple of weeks which is good for the business, but not found the time or energy to train.
And I spent all yesterday at a wedding in Birmingham which was also great to be at, but I was back late and this morning when I woke up I just felt knackered.
Had I not started at the very back as well, maybe I would have been carried by the other runners, not literally of course, that would have been asking a bit much.
It took me just about an hour to get to the four mile mark, and at four miles an hour it would have taken me more than three hours to finish, if I'd even managed to keep going at that blistering pace.
And in fact the average walking speed, according to Google, is 3.5 miles an hour. I kept trying to run in bursts of ten to 15 minutes, which I managed for a while but that came down to five or three minutes.
My motivation wasn't helped very much by the amount of bloody cyclists who kept whizzing past. I thought it was a bit out of order myself. I had my tunes on quite loud, and I didn't expect to have to keep looking round my shoulder for somebody speeding up on their bike. Especially the guy who whipped past me gabbling into his phone.
I think I even shouted out, 'it's easy on a bike!', and finished the sentence in my head, 'you tosser'.
And people kept crossing the road in front of me, not that I blame them, but one bloke came so close holding his child, that it felt like he was showing his toddler what failure looked like so he could learn a lesson from it.
Then there is the sympathy clapping. I admire anybody who stands and watches 20,000 or so people running through Bristol and by the time I was coming round the corner they must have been there for bloody hours.
But I almost felt like I wished they would just let me go past and just not mention it, because I was so far behind that they must have thought I had some condition or physical ailment, and was being really brave.
I don't mean it really, any support is very gratefully received. But secretly I'm sure some of the marshals were clapping because they knew I must have been the last in the pack and they could start to pack up and get down the pub.
But I think the final straw was having to compete with the bin lorry that roared up behind me on the Portway to collect the thousands of plastic bottles left strewn across the road by runners.
He kept a respectful distance for a while, but must have got bored and went past me but we were roughly the same speed. I did think about jumping on the back.
I managed to get round the turn at Sylvan Way and ran and walked a bit down the Portway, feeling wrecked by this point.
At seven miles, just before the junction with Bridge Valley Road, I met my girlfriend and I decided I'd had enough by that point.
It was about 10K and that is the distance I have managed to do before reasonably comfortably, but it's amazing how quickly you lose fitness and I just had nothing left.
So instead of running another six miles or so, we hiked up Bridge Valley Road and headed home.
I didn't feel it was worth pushing myself, because I knew I wasn't able to do it. I know I've lost two stone in the last few months, but I'm still five or six stone overweight, and I could really feel that today.
I do have mixed feelings because I know I could have got in shape for it and at least finished it. I have done seven half marathons over the past eight years, and I've always made it over the finish line.
But at the same time this was very much the start of my training regime for the London Marathon next year.
Normally when I run a half marathon it is the culmination of months of training, and an end in itself, but the aim now is April next year.
It has really helped me to focus on what I need to do to get in shape for next year, which is clearly quite a lot.
It's a bit like when England are in the World Cup, they usually start badly, but come good in the end, only to crash out near the end. Obviously I'm not aiming to crash out near the end, so it's not that similar, but I know what I mean.
The good things to take out of today are that I didn't injure myself, and that at least I managed 10K and didn't turn round and go home after the first mile, which was a serious consideration for a moment while I was at the side of the road coughing my guts up. Nice.
But as I said, if anything it has made me more determined than ever to get properly fit for April next year.

www.justgiving.com/simonpeevers

Here we go then, the real hard part has begun, and I have started the long climb up the fundraising mountain.

I have set up my Just Giving website page which you can see a mini version of on the right of this page and click through to it, or just click here.

For those who have not used it before, it is a great way of making a donation as you can do it online and instantly. It doesn't go into my account, but straight to the charity concerned, in this case the British Heart Foundation, Wessex Heartbeat and the Bristol Heart Institute.

It's a really easy website to remember as well: www.justgiving.com/simonpeevers

I look forward to seeing you on there.

Race pack for Bristol Half Marathon has arrived today.
Must mean I am actually going to do it then.
Will remember to wear my electronic chip this time and hopefully get a medal this time.

Now for the hard work

Pic caption: Asics Gel Nimbus. They should just call them Asics Carling.


I've just come down from the ceiling after a week of being over-excited about getting a place in the London Marathon, and it's not unlike waking up on New Year's Day and wondering where a part of your life went, apart from down the toilet.
The marathon hangover is kicking in. The inescapable reality of the situation has arrived, and he doesn't appear to be carrying a party-pack of beers.
Jubilant euphoria was much more fun, he had a whole keg of happiness and no dull friends like eight months of training, running in the rain, pain and general struggle.
So I started my regime with a week of resting up, no point rushing into these things, there is after all, eight whole months. I'll bet the Kenyans don't even dust of their tracksuits until about a month before the race.
I have done a lot of walking this week though, around Clifton sniffing out leads like a proper newshound to find content for Clifton People. Maybe one day I will be good enough to get a job as a proper journalist on a real newspaper...
...anyway, Clifton is bigger than you think, on foot, so I reckon that's got to count for something.
Walking down Whiteladies Road I did think of going into the running shop Moti to look at buying some new running shoes, but I can't help feeling you probably need to run for your county at least before you can go in there.
I'm sure it's not that bad really and I expect they will be very lovely and helpful when I finally get enough money together to buy some new running shoes.
I may have to put off buying a house, a new car, or anything more than a loaf of bread for a while, but I know it will be worth getting a new pair of running shoes.
I've had the same pair of Asics Gel Nimbus trainers, which does sound a bit like a hair product, for the past few years. Admittedly a bit like me they haven't been in full time employment for that whole time, but they are a bit tired now, again, a bit like me perhaps.
They have been brilliant though, the best trainers I have ever had, and I have had a few different pairs down the years. Seriously, if anybody reading this works for Asics and can get me a discount I will gladly sell my soul to the company, they are so amazingly brilliant.
That's the thing about running shoes though, it's quite an individual thing, what works for some people doesn't work for others. One man's Asics may be another man's wooden clogs.
It is a bit expensive, I expect I'll have to shell out more than £100 on my new pair, but it's really worth it not only because of the obvious comfort and support, but the right running shoes will also go a long way to preventing injuries. Problems with knees, hips and all sorts of long term damage can be caused if you don't have the right running shoes.
It's common sense really, you wouldn't go hill walking in flip flops, for example, would you? Everybody in Clifton seems to wear flip flops, everywhere. There's a bit of a uniform for blokes, a polo shirt preferably with some kind of pattern on it, a pair of combat shorts, stupid hair and flip flops. I'm not saying I don't conform, obviously I do, but I'm scared to wear flip flops out the house, I think somebody will tread on my feet or the road in front of me may suddenly turn into hot coals and I'll perish in the furnace. But mainly I don't wear them because on the whole it's just not suitable footwear for outdoors is it? By the way I am 34 going on Victorian these days.
So the general plan is to do a long run this weekend, but not go mad because I do have the half marathon in about ten days, although there is no sign of a race pack as yet, does anybody have theirs?
Then I go on holiday, where the only running I intend to do is with my finger along the edge of a bottle opener.
All of which means I should be hitting the ground running into marathon training at some point towards the end of September, just as the temperature drops, the nights draw in and it rains even more.
I can't wait. I do mean that though, I really can't wait.

Clifton People

Hi all,

A bit of self-promotion here but what the heck, my blog my rules.

This is for anybody who lives in Clifton, Whiteladies Road, Park Street, Hotwells, The Downs or Ashton Court.

I have just taken on the job of community publisher for a great new FREE social media site called Clifton People, and I want YOU to be one of my people. A bit like Barrymore, without all the controversy.

If you have a business you can register if FREE in the directory, and whatever you do you can talk about it on the site or form your own group so that other people can keep up with what's happening.

The idea is to build up a network of people living and/or working in the area who post on the site regularly to create a hub of news, information and anything else you like, as long as it's not illegal or offensive.

Whether you have a salsa dancing group, a softball team, a pub quiz, looking for ideas for business or just want to spout off about whatever is on your mind, Clifton People is the site for you. (I know I've missed my calling in advertising.)

As I said it's free to join and at the moment if you sign up with a photo you will be entered into a prize draw to win a bottle of champagne, so tell a couple of friends as well.

It would be great to see you around the site,

Simon.

Strangely addicted to the Sainsbury's rip off version of Special K with red berries, called Balance, in a nice soft green box, to make you feel like nothing but God's clean air is passing through your digestive system.
Hmmm.

Today's weigh in

Good news, I've lost a whole pound since my last weigh in.
I realise that doesn't sound like a lot, but my last official Weight Watchers weigh in was about three weeks ago and in the intervening period I have been creeping back up to 16 st 2lbs, and even 16st 4lbs at one point.
So to tip the scales at 15st 13.5lbs, is a good thing. That's over 28 pounds now.

The countdown begins

According to the official 2010 London Virgin Marathon website counter, it is precisely 8 months, 23 hours, 53 mins and 12 seconds until the starting gun is fired on April 25.
Holy crap.
So I do declare August 24 2009 as Day 1 of preparation for the big day.
And I just realised I am a marathon virgin, entering the Virgin Marathon. Badoom.
I only hope my training develops more than my sense of humour.
I have been as giddy as a schoolgirl, as somebody said recently, for the past few days after getting my place for the marathon next year.
It feels like I've just stepped into a whole new world where talk is of the marathon, the full nine yards (or 26 miles), the big one.
I have run several half marathons down the years and had various levels of success.
The one constant thing is that when you tell people you are training they say, 'oh you're running the marathon aren't you?' and you have to politely explain that it is in fact a half marathon, and all of a sudden it doesn't sound quite so impressive.
'I'm sorry', I often think, 'I realise it's not really that much of an effort to run 13 piddly miles, but can I have some sponsorship anyway', and then the tenner you were hoping for becomes a fiver.
But now, things will be different, now I can say yes, that's right, I'm doing a marathon, a full, grown up, proper job 26 mile gruelling slow death of a run. And then they'll look at me, probably laugh and say 'you don't look like you could run a bath'.
The weight loss is even more crucial now to be able to complete the marathon. The key to long distance running is to be as light as possible. You wouldn't want to carry 112 bags of sugar while running 26 miles would you? So far I'm 24 down, just 88 to go and I'll be floating round that London town like a will o'the wisp.

I can't believe it!

New video diary, me very excited about getting my place in the London Marathon: CLICK HERE