Slight return

A bad workman blames his tool and a bad athlete blames her sports bra. And her stupidly thermal jogging bottoms. And possibly the contents of my Shuffle too.
But these are but excuses and things that I mutter about, barely keeping my angry ramblings out of ear shot of other gym goers. The truth is, and this I must face, is that I was not born to run. I'm not even sure I was born to jog. I may be destined for more of a stumbling pace and gait.
I've not trained since Lauren and I (with honourary Fat Boy Michael and the toddler) braced ourselves against the elements of HellFire around a month ago. Life has conspired to make it far to easy for me to find a reason to duck out.
This morning though I forced my Fat Girl ass out of the house, through the sunshine and into the artificial ambiance of the gym.
I then proceeded to walk / run / jog / wheeze for 15 minutes in which I completed a paltry 1.6km. Using my (shaky at best) mathematical skill I calculate that this still brings me in around the 50 minute mark for the full 5km (ok, you got me, I didn't calculate that at all I guessed). I rate myself Poor to Lame.
Race day is eight weeks today (which means I hit the big 3-0 nine weeks today - there is nothing positive about this post). I'm not sure how I will manage to get any faster or any more stamina but I'll give it my best.
If you sponsor me I will try to be better than my best.