Ireland has a new president. A president who once bummed a cigarette from me.
I may have knocked eons off my life in my 16 years as a smoker, I may have smelled, I may have broken the bank and coughed and coughed. But I think it was all worth it because I can say that the President once cadged a fag from me. I’m inching closer to fame every day.
The new president and the ridiculous (and hilariously awesome) X Factor scandals took up much of the conversation in Dublin this weekend, but there is one other big thing going on in the city today. Today is the day of the Dublin City Marathon.
Actually, I didn’t. I walked. Half of the marathon. And I swore an oath that day that I’d run the full length of this year’s one.
But I didn’t even enter. Instead I’m spending today doing the hoovering and the laundry. Or at least contemplating doing the hoovering and the laundry.
I could swear that I’ll do the
marathon properly next year. But I can’t even guarantee the hoovering will get done today, so I don’t want to overcommit.
I do want to be fit. My exercise has been so irregular in the last few weeks that I feel the little fitness I had slipping away. I caught myself panting from standing up too fast the other day. Soon I’ll be one of those fat people who just pant all day long like a really hot dog. As in a very, very warm canine, not an American sausage-based snack. They don’t pant at all.
I’m going to the free college doctor tomorrow. (I love being a student!) I’ve been complaining lots about my joints. There’s also the panting. A new bout of tummy troubles (disproportionately bad for what I’ve been eating). And a spontaneous and dramatic nosebleed.
The reason I don’t want to go to the doctor is that I know exactly what he’ll say: “Lose weight”.
But I’ll go. And then I’ll plot and I’ll plan. And I’ll resolve. And promise and swear.
And in October 2012, when I launch the Connor 4S at the Dublin City Marathon, then I’ll be perfection itself.
And I’ll probably have the hoovering done by then as well.