Its not the end of the world, but it feels like it.

I write this whilst drinking my last beer. Don't worry you don't need to call the suicide hotline, and I'm not admitting I'm an alcoholic. The beer in question is a Corona, which is a wimps drink, but it was only the beer in my parents fridge. 

Anyone who knows me will know that beer is my most favourite drink on this earth! I mean there is no questioning how amazing it is, how much diversity you can have from four ingredients boogles the mind.

But no, the reason why it is my last beer (for the foreseeable future), is because I am tired of being flabby. If my Mum was reading this she would instantly say "you're not fat". Which I know I'm not, I'm not on the John Prescott scale of fatness, but I'm just not in great shape.

I'm going to spare you the details because, well, I still find it embarrassing, but put it this way, if you have ever see Seth Rogan topless, well that is similar.

In January 2012, I was at my highest physical fitness, and yet I still failed to get into the RAF on fitness grounds, which has always haunted me in someway, but I know that my life has turned out much better than it would have been if I boshed out the extra pushup I needed to get in. 

Thats when my life started to go down hill, but well I'm not going to tell you fuckers about that. I always thought, working out, whats the point? In September 2013 I was in a head on car crash that fucked up my right knee until recently. Thats when the weight really started tumbling out of control.

So as I take my last sip of beer what is the future? What shall it be? Should I aim for the London Marathon, should I aim for cycling John O'Groats to Lands' end? Well no, because those are fucking boring. I did a Tough Mudder in October 2013 which wasn't bright after my accident but I hobbled over the line. Well there is one in September and this time I'm going to run over the finish line.