Going outside

People say "I'm not a runner" as if runners are a separate species, born in a field in Kenya, or at least in Hertfordshire to a very supportive dad. They aren't. Every runner you've ever seen gliding past you along the seafront was, at some point, a red-faced person stopping at a lamppost pretending to read a notice about a lost cat. A runner is just someone who runs. Do it twice and you're one. Do it badly and you're still one. Nobody checks.

Next: Walk firstBack to the contents

You've been walking since chapter 6. Now make some of those walks count. Brisk pace, about 3 miles an hour, where you can talk but not sing.¹ Twenty minutes, then thirty. Add hills when you're ready. Britain isn't short of them, and in some parts of the country it's mostly hills with a few houses balanced on them.

Next: Fartlek: speed playBack to the contents

Fartlek is a Swedish word that means "speed play". Yes, it sounds like something you'd apologise for in a lift. It's a simple way to mix faster and easier bits without needing a stopwatch, an app, or a man in a gilet with a clipboard.

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Walk briskly to the next lamppost. Walk easy to the one after. Repeat for ten minutes. When that feels easy, swap the brisk bit for a gentle jog. Start tiny. One lamppost of jogging is a win. No lampposts where you live? Use trees, gates, or suspicious sheep, keeping in mind that the sheep will move and you'll have to start again.

Next: Walk-jogBack to the contents

When jogging between lampposts feels fine, try timed walk-jog: one minute of jogging, ninety seconds of walking, repeated. That's how week one of the NHS Couch to 5K plan starts. It runs for nine weeks, three runs a week, building up to 30 minutes of running.² It's free, it's well designed, and there's a voice in your ear telling you you're doing great. Which you are. Even if you've stopped at a lamppost to read about the cat.

Next: Outside, safelyBack to the contents