It’s Twenty Thirteen

Connor is ready to be an inspiration again, bitchez!

Yesterday morning, I put on my runners and did the first day of the couch-to-5K. Again. And today I did the second.

I haven’t put on the runners since I chickened out of doing that 10K last July. I’ve barely done any exercise at all in those six months. I had four runs scheduled every week and every time I opened my diary, the word “RUN” jumped out at me every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday. I didn’t do a single one of those ninety-six planned runs, and part of me thought I’d never run again.

But that’s all behind me and I’m a fricking jaguar again. I have that lovely muscular tiredness in my legs, and each time I feel that tiredness I feel better about Connor.

During both my run this morning and the one yesterday morning, I passed lots of other people running. It is the start of January. I wanted to call to all of them and let them know that I wasn’t just running for a new year’s resolution. Oh no, this is a lifestyle transformation. I am a New Connor. No one else might believe it, but I do.

Neither my own weighing scales, nor my doctor’s, can weigh people as heavy as me, so on Sunday I weighed myself at Boot’s. I am heavier than ever before: 25 stone 8 pounds (358 pounds or 162.3 kilos).

I haven’t decided what my diet is going to be, but it can’t go on like last week, when I had an entire tin of Victoria biscuits, four large sausage rolls, a litre of milk and a chocolate mousse for dinner like I did last Wednesday. So for the moment, I’m resolved to not have entire tins of biscuits for dinner.

As well as my run, I went for a swim today. Back in the pool for the first time since October. Running makes me feel brave. Swimming makes me feel peaceful. Between the two, my heart and soul are nourished.

And I gave myself a new start in college too. I sat down to work on transcribing my PhD interviews yesterday.

I started my transcribing in July. I had originally told my supervisor and my research participants that I’d be finished my transcripts by the middle of August. When September came, I told my supervisor I’d have them done by October. In October, I wrote an email to my research participants to say that I’d have them done by the end of November. In those six months, I had only transcribed about three hours of interview. Three hours out of over forty. In six months. I couldn’t sit still when I did go to college. I kept getting up. I would spend hours looking at photos of One Direction. I would only make it in to college to go for lunch. I was absolutely incapable of focusing on anything PhD-related.

That’s all changed. Between yesterday and today, I transcribed over an hour and a half of interviews. In other words, in two days I managed to achieve 50% of what I had achieved in the previous six months. Yesterday, I remember looking at my watch and realising I had concentrated on my work for four hours. I can’t remember the last time I managed to focus on anything PhD-related for so long.

Ladies and gentlemen, whatever was wrong with me, I declare it over. I am renewed. I am transfigured. I’m back.

I may be falling back in love with my studies, but no one else has even a tiny clue what it is I’m studying. I met one of the more adorable second-year students from Hall on the bus this evening, and he said, “You’re studying masculinities, Connor. You’d know a lot about rioting. There’s nothing more masculine than a riot. You can smell the hormones.”

Well, indeed. Connor on Riot Smells, coming soon to a good bookshop near you.

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