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The start of the week and I've got 4 weeks to sort my diet and exercise and lose at least half a stone to be ready for Hartlepool. I refuse to put on my Soar vests again until it fits properly and I no longer have the appearance of a sausage bursting out of its skin.

I have an ever ongoing battle with my weight, I like eating bad food, I like chocolate, I like sweets, I like cakes, I like flapjacks, I like muffins, I like brownies, I like meringues, I like cookies, I like crisps, I like chocolate spread, I like bread, I like coke, I like lemonade, I just really like stuff that's very bad for you and I like eating and drinking it all the time.

This goes a long way to explaining why I used to weigh over 18 stone.

Running got me to a normal and healthy weight but I can easily put a stone on in a week. Since Manchester I've put over half a stone on and I don't want to see fat Simon looking back at me in the mirror or worse still in race photos.

It's a Bank Holiday today so naturally I forgot and booked some appointments in. Just two in the morning and then the rest of the day doing jobs in the house and tidying, washing and cooking.

This week is also the start of my new training plan and that involves three sessions a week of core work. I have some time later to do this and plan it all out and make a stopwatch app thing with all the timings and exercises but instead have a bath and listen to Nick Cave and then fall asleep in the bath listening to Nick Cave.

Then it's 7pm and the sun is still out so I suggest to Gail we go to the pub for a drink and she naturally says yes. I am absolutely useless and sticking to any kind of plans I give myself. The problem is I like the pub and I don't like doing core exercises, if I forced myself to go to the gym it would be easier but I hate the gym and you have to pay for it and I can't imagine why I would want to pay for something I hate when I could instead pay for drinks at the pub.

I've taken the morning off work to do some jobs, the sun is shining and it's a beautiful day. I take Murphy for a walk and then back home to sit in the sunshine and drink a coffee whilst Gail cuts the grass.

I contemplate going for a run as it's such a nice day but my foots still sore so decide to take a rest day, maybe I'll go to the gym instead ? 

No.

Never the gym.

A couple of afternoon appointments and then Friday night at the kitchen table with the family, we have pizza, we have wine, we have sweets, we have chocolate and we have music. My absolute favourite part of the week.

I'm in charge of the playlist as nobody else can be trusted. We're going for an early 90's indie vibe with some funk and soul chucked in for good measure.  We jump effortlessly from Happy Mondays to Stevie Wonder to Chemical Brothers and naturally to Nick Cave.

We all drink and talk and then the kids take over my playlist and it all just plummets downhill rapidly and before I know it we're listening to Pitbull, and then Shakira doing some waka waka song and and then Miley Cyrus, I mean who would ever have envisioned a future where Billy Ray was the most talented musical performer in his family.

At least I can rely on Sam and he pulls it back with some Glen Campbell and Sneaker Pimps, that's my boy.

I'm thinking I should probably look into putting the girls up for adoption.

Anybody want a 23 year old and a 17 year old ? They don't eat much, and they're both quite small so they won't take up much room.  They like to be fed noodles and expect you to know the words to Shakira's waka waka song.

Up early and sit outside in the sunshine having my coffee and toast. 

Then heard out for a run, yesterday's 9 miles was a real struggle and I felt wrecked during and after it so not sure what today will bring. I decide to wear some bright pink shoes because they always cheer me up and head out along the coast. 

Today's plan is up to Tynemouth and then out the other side to Shields and then loop and back to Tynemouth and home along the coast. The sun is shining, I'm wearing sunglasses and The Chemical Brothers are playing and I feel pretty good. I go through the first mile in 8:18 and the second in 8:06 and settle into a nice rhythm and keep ticking off the miles. Maybe those two cookies have fuelled me today ? Or maybe it's because I actually had a decent night's sleep ? Or maybe it was the glass of Rioja I had whilst watching telly ? 

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoy my run. I'm heading back down the coast and decide I'll stop at co-op to grab some coke. 10.5 miles down at an average pace of 7:48 per mile and it felt really comfortable so that's a good sign.

Nip into co-op and my choice is a 500ml bottle of coke for £1.85 or 1.5 litres of coke for £1.75, I mean I'm no accountant but I figure the £1.75 is a better deal. I'll check this later with Ben as he's good with numbers and stuff and he tells me he has a big calculator. I think that's what he said anyway, I haven't opened the photo he sent me yet.

Home, sit in the sun and drink some of my coke and have a cup of coffee with Marvin and then off to Aldi for the big shop. It's a good shop, we get all the essentials and more importantly I walk down the chocolate aisle and look at all the lovely chocolate and buy none of it. I'm a changed man.

Home, lie on the settee with a glass of coke from my big bottle that I've nearly now finished and start watching Despicable Me 3 and then it suddenly changes into a totally different film and 2 hours have just disappeared. Gail trys to tell me I fell asleep but I think it's something more sinister than that, Trumps probably involved somehow.

Or Ben.

Then in the evening my wife says those words every husband loves to hear. "Shall we go the pub tonight?" 

Yes, yes Gail we should go to the pub, we should always go to the pub. Couple of pints sitting outside Split Chimp and then home to watch an awful movie that I have no idea what it was called or really what happened. There was a waitress in a Diner in it and people got killed, that was about it.