Journalist Niamh Horan - Diary 1

I have a confession to make. Ive been a runner for six years and Ive never picked up the guts to run a marathon.
Two reasons - one selfish, the other cowardly.  Firstly Ive always been scared I couldnt do it.Im a control freak and being able to hop on a treadmill, flick a button and control how fast and how long I want to run, depending on my mood and energy, is just my cup of tea.

But in a marathon, once that flag is waved and you start the long slog toward the finish line, theres no turning back. Id imagine it to be a bit like labour really. You know youll feel elated once its over but you cant even fathom that in the midst of all the blood, sweat and tears!

Secondly, the selfish reason-and dont judge me here.  The only reason I have ever run is for vanity. Not health, not fitness, just weight loss and toning.
My charitable cause is my waistline and the only benefactor is me.  And, until now, knowing all my hard work went towards slipping on a slinky dress each Saturday night and not having to suck in was fine by me.  But when Flora rang asking me to join their official team it forced me to take a second look at myself.
Why all the excuses all these years? Why didnt I ever want to put my hard training on the line and see what I was really made of?

And so with a little push from the lovely people at Flora here I am, three weeks later, walking and running five to six times a week.  And my God does it feel good to know Im working towards something a little less superficial than a flat tummy.
Mind you, stepping up for a weigh in each week and seeing my focused training slowly edging the needle down the scales leaves a warm glow in my tummy that even chocolate ice-cream couldnt match!

But each and every person there on the big day will be raising money to make other peoples lives better-and thats where the real sense of satisfaction lies!
The last three weeks have been filled with early morning starts, alarm clocks put on snooze (ten times over), aching limbs, bright blue radox baths, ice packs and a lot of toing and froing in front of the mirror to see if theres been any physical results!

My Rock n Republic jeans fit again, I can tuck into desserts and bikkies every so often without the dreaded guilt and Im finally doing something for someone else for once.  Its sad but its true.

So come on girls, slug it out with me! No more excuses. Just go for it.
If the President of America can get up at 5am to fit in exercise each day then so can you.  Do what you have to do, just fit it in each day.   Trust me; youll thank me at the finish line.