Beauty in the mundane…

Life continues to be topsy-turvy, and for every celebration there’s an equal lapse that can tend to put life back into balance. But that’s what life is, right? A series of ups and downs that keep you appreciating the things you have around you.

Since I last wrote a blog post, I’ve managed to lose 1.5 stone in weight! For you gym-goers, that’s a little more than a 9kg dumbbell. I feel my confidence coming back, running has become enjoyable again and, for the first time in years, feeling and being myself again feels like a possibility.

The last ten weeks have been filled with our annual beginners’ running course, my favourite time of the year. This year has been a little different; I’ve gone out with them on their homework runs to support them throughout the week. It’s allowed me to get to know them better, laugh with them, encourage them and witness their growth.

I’ve come on in leaps and bounds in the gym. I joke that I’m going to become the UK’s next strongest woman… we all know that won’t happen. I surprise myself with what I’m willing to try, from balancing on a Bosu and pushing around a slam ball to test my core, to the inevitable, “Go on, let’s try heavier,” with Julie. These are all small wins that, day to day, we forget, but we should be screaming from the top of our lungs, “I pulled 100kg!… once.”

This week, I was inspired to write because I, along with the people around me, lost someone special. A guy who brought sunshine and laughter to the rainiest of days. Steve was someone who was never frightened of a challenge and was always the first to raise his hand and volunteer. I will cherish the memories of our times together: the muddiest obstacle races, 24-hour races with upside-down pineapples and Daisy Duke shorts, seeing Deadpool run around the corner, or hearing loud music approaching from behind, followed by a firm, encouraging pat on the back.

Every time we lower into a superhero pose for a photo, I will think of Steve—and the legend he’s left behind. Thank you for being my running friend.

So I go back to what I said at the beginning: life is a series of ups and downs that keep you appreciating what’s around you. When you’re having a bad day, step out of your front door and breathe in the fresh air… because there really is beauty in the mundane.

We’re going on a ‘Bere’ hunt…

Welcome to December, the month where eating your daily calorie allowance in one sitting becomes the norm. But it’s also a month that brings festive running events like Santa dashes, elf runs, and in my case – the Nutcracker Run!

It was a first for Phoenix Running Events, breaking out of London and hosting an event in Hampshire. And how lovely it was to have an event open up practically on our doorstep. A six-hour lapped event where the goal is completely specific to you – do one lap or twenty, it doesn’t matter.

I chose to run naked (don’t get excited, boys). In the running world, running naked means without your watch! I’m enjoying being off-grid, and not having the added pressure of constantly checking how far I’ve gone or how slowly it’s taking me to get there. My first lap was a game of cat and mouse with a few ladies who overtook me on every hill, but I caught them on the downs. I joked about this and one woman shouted, “I don’t even like running!” Neither do most of us while we’re doing it, but the endorphins afterwards are the best hit.

We followed red and white striped tape that dangled from trees, looking like a little trail of candy canes. The undulating course (which was marketed as being flat) went through the Forest of Bere, and better yet, it was off a road called 100 Acre Lane. Naturally, at the ripe old age of 30, I was extremely excited at the thought that I might finally meet Winnie-the-Pooh. He was clearly out having fun with Christopher Robin that day – no matter where I looked, he did not appear.

It was cold and sunny that day; you couldn’t have picked better weather for a race day. The hills were like tiny microclimates. You went down into a cool, frosty dip, and when we surfaced at the summit we were greeted with warm sunshine. A fellow runner compared it to being in a cold swimming pool when someone’s just had a wee 🤣 and I couldn’t agree more.

I know I probably won’t get around to writing again this year, so I should really wrap up 2025. Like every year, it’s been filled with ups and downs – massive accomplishments and some of the lowest lows. I’ve come back from the life-threatening injury of laziness and finally got my groove back. But in 2026, I’m not going to dwell on the past anymore.

There will be no more “I used to be faster, I used to be fitter, I used to be skinnier.” That was the past – you can’t go back, so go forward. I’m going to set myself a list of 10 goals, and I have 12 months to achieve them.

So watch this space… this Bundy is making a comeback.

Denny ‘wood’nt…

Located in the deepest, darkest part of the New Forest lies Denny Wood — a labyrinth of trails that only true geniuses are able to untangle and decipher. When I first joined running club nearly 10 years ago, Denny Wood was the home of Tuesday night winter social runs. Admittedly, back then I loved it. In the darkness you can’t see where you’re going, so there is nothing to fear; daylight, however, is a different story.

It’s a long-standing joke in Hardley Runners that an exorcism needs to take place to cleanse me of my internal fear and hatred for this part of the forest, as in all honesty it’s completely irrational. Over the past few weeks I’ve increased my distance a little and have been forcing myself to plod around Denny. It’s dry, with gravel tracks, and you can soak up the forest without finding yourself knee-deep in a swamp. For those of you reading who don’t live in the UK — it’s been raining non-stop for 76 years.

The last few Sundays have been as close to perfect as they can be. I’ve been running with the “old” gang again, finally confident enough to join them. I may moan the whole way round, and freak out if someone goes to touch my back, but I can’t explain how brilliant this has been for my mental health. Considering I’m supposed to be “30 and thriving,” the harsh reality is I’m “30 and only just surviving.” Life has been throwing me a few curveballs recently, but I’m lucky to have a great support network.

Last week was the “festive social”: 7 miles plodding through the countryside around Romsey. The thing I value most about Hardley is that we all run together — the faster guys loop back and we get to speak to everyone. Some people came dressed as elves, reindeer, and in other festive clothing. It was a cold and crisp morning, perfect for running. As we crossed some streams, Tamsin noticed the steam rising up from the river — a perfect photo opportunity.

The thing we often forget in life is to stop (catch your breath) and take in your surroundings. So many of us stare at laptop screens Monday to Friday, so when you can glance out the window… go for the walk. Learn to appreciate the simple things — like steam rising from a river.

So if you take anything from this blog entry: conquer the fear — even if it’s as simple as running around Denny Wood. Don’t hibernate and lose yourself in the mundane. Get up, get a move on.

“’Cause I believe you can be whatever
And I agree you can do much better — trust me.”

They call me Mr ‘Jeff’tastic…

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Well, here I am — as promised — about to give you a weekly update on my journey from relapsed couch potato. I bet you can’t wait! Unless it’s your first time reading, in which case, hi! I’m Danii, and I’m a recovering ‘sofaholic’.

As far as I’m concerned, this week was a success — all except Monday, when I had my head stuck in a laptop wondering exactly how many days I had left until retirement.
Three runs? ✅ Tick.
The gym? ✅ Tick.
Healthy eating? Semi-tick…
But I did have a lovely dip in the sea!

This week, I discovered the art of ‘jeffing’ — a form of running where you set out to run for an allotted time and then reward yourself with a walk, and repeat. This works quite well for me. I enjoy structure, and it gives me something to look forward to. It’s exactly how Couch to 5K works, so I’m hoping that week by week, I’ll get stronger again and gradually go a little further.

This was also a week of comebacks. I showed my face at running club (and was grateful for all the smiles I received in return). But my biggest comeback by far was returning to a previous parkrun that I’d failed at.
Come on — who fails at a parkrun? Me.

1.5 laps into a 4-lap course, nature called, and to prevent an actual ‘shitastrophe’, I not-so-gracefully bowed out and vowed never to show my face at Whitley Parkrun again.
Obviously, as this girl’s mother didn’t raise a quitter — I returned.

I wish I could say I came back stronger than ever, but frankly, just getting around the course was enough for me. In fact, I was clearly enjoying it so much that I went the wrong way, missed a turn, and accidentally extended my parkrun!

Forgetting my headphones was the biggest mistake. Once you’ve settled into a crowd and found your pace, you start zoning into the noises around you — either your own breathing or someone else’s. In this case, a gentleman near me for the entire 5K breathed like he was a steam engine. Never again will I forget my headphones.

This morning was spent exactly how I’d wished: a 6-mile Jeffy plod around the forest and the seaside with my friend Tracy. I say “my friend” — she’s currently my support crew and one of my greatest influences. Without her support, I’d probably still be moping around and being lazy.

The best thing about this week hasn’t been the running — it’s been spending time with some of the people I love most. The people I’ve been shutting out and hiding from.

So if you guys are reading this, thank you. I appreciate you all.

Happy Sunday, and happy running ❤️

A fresh start…

I fully realize I’ve disappeared off the face of the earth—not just in blogging, but in running too. Unfortunately, I fell down a rabbit hole, and it’s taken me a little while to find daylight again.

After completing an ultra for my 30th birthday this year, I was done. The run was far harder than it needed to be: I was too heavy, and my training only consisted of one or two runs a week, which, quite frankly, wasn’t good enough.

I’ve now reached my heaviest weight ever, weighing in at an impressive…
Nahhhhh, I ain’t gonna tell you that! But let’s just say, if I have one more takeaway, my toes will completely disappear when I look down!

Speaking honestly, the biggest hurdle for me has been alcohol. Cutting it out of my life has given me a fresh perspective. I’m not so down in the dumps, and I’m finally beginning to feel like the bubbly version of myself again.

So now that I’ve jumped over the first hurdle, I feel ready for the next: healthy eating.

When I say healthy eating, I don’t mean cutting out all the good stuff—because that wouldn’t be a life worth living! Instead, I’ll focus on moderation and stop the constant snacking. No more “bad day” chocolate bars or “happy day” Haribos. I don’t need them. But if I bake a cake or some bread to zone out for a bit, I’ll enjoy a little myself and share the rest with others (even if they do risk food poisoning along the way!).

Yesterday, I got to watch some of my friends take on an epic 100K race, and it got me thinking. I miss the thrill. I miss the excitement.
But most of all… I miss them.

I don’t want to jump back into silly distances—I just want to run. I want to get up on rainy Sunday mornings, come back caked in forest mud, and feel like I deserve a roast dinner.

I haven’t wanted to come back to club until I’d pulled myself out of “down-in-the-dumps Danii,” and thanks to leaving alcohol behind—I think I’m ready.
But are you?

I miss writing. I’ve wanted to write for months. So here’s a new instalment of Fat Girl to… well, whatever girl. No marathons. Just progress—towards the best and fittest version of me.

I hope you all enjoy reading, as much as you once did years ago.

See you next week, Fat Girl 💕

Hangovers Vs running…

10pm- 1 more drink then it’s time for an Uber.

10.30pm- Ooh! A chocolate orange martini?

11pm- better request that Uber.

12pm- Shots!

2am- I’m a twat, the worlds biggest twat… F*CK F*CK F*CK!!!

Waking up at 6am after an evening where you promised yourself you wouldn’t consume alcohol, is never going to be pretty. Stumbling out of bed whilst still intoxicated and attempting to squeeze ones winter body into a sports bra is the equivalent Houdini getting out of a straight jacket… Alot of wriggling, dislocated shoulders a moment of panic and then success!

In true Danii style I had booked a race, not knowing the location, timings or even the distance until getting myself into the car with my running buddies. After 9 years of being in the ‘running’ game you’d think I’d of started to check these things in advance… I’m blessed with an amazing group of running mates who are FAR more organised than myself. Although I think they are more than slightly fed up of being my running secretaries… I’m very grateful for their wisdom and organisational skills.

Exhibit one of bad organisation-

I was going to visit my sister after the race, only when I got in the car did I realise we’d booked onto a race in her village. A lucky coincidence I suppose?

Exhibit two of bad organisation-

When booking the race, they asked if you needed transport? I said: no. Why? I thought they were wondering if I needed transport from my home….hehehehehehehe. In fact this was transport from the finish to the start, as this race was a point to point.

Driving up to the race the weather was horrible! Rain, hail, wind- you name it, we had it. As I munched on my dry ass vagina crackers (Tesco- check your box’s out, figs… Sliced…vaginas) I prayed they wouldn’t allow me on the bus. If the race company refused to let me on board I could simply curl into a little alcohol infused ball in the back of Marnie’s car and go to sleep for a few hours.

However, the hangover gods were not my side! I hitch hiked onto the bus, and headed to the race start. In deepest darkest Dorset it was sodding freezing! We bundled into Steve’s van and huddled together like penguins to keep warm until it was time to run. The race was simple, following an old railway line from Sturminster Newton all the way to Spetisbury. A route so simple I would be confident to go run it again on my own as it was literally a straight line.

Running on a false promise that the race was downhill for 11 miles, with every hill I encountered I sighed a little ‘sod you Steve’… I hate hills. But for once, I didn’t care too much! I was enjoying the run, enjoying the scenery, listening to my music and being outside. The last time I ran on a hangover; I wanted to give up… This time, I felt fresh and happy after a few miles. I wish so much that every run could feel like that.

Although I was running for hours, the race went by so fast. I loved the freedom of running by myself, it felt good and I needed to do that. Coming through the finish I had a beaming smile across my face, I’ve had a love hate relationship with running this year, so it’s refreshing to feel good and happy.

I’d like to say my training plan has been going well, it hasn’t. I’ve had an ear infection for nearly 3 months, battling colds and have thoroughly pickled myself over December with alcohol. I hope it’s not too late to make a U-turn, I want to prove people wrong, I know people are probably doubting me… But I can do this ‘epic’ run- just watch me.

P.s. no more drinking, except on special occasions.

P.p.s. no more cheese…. Except on special occasions.

P.p.p.s. no more chocolate… As above.

The emergency potato…

There aren’t many things that get me out of bed at 5am and admittedly running isn’t normally one of them! The issue with waking up that early is that your head isn’t completely switched on… in my wisdom I believed that cooking a jacket potato to have as a running snack was a great idea.

Not to self- always keep a stock of malt loaf in the cupboard.

With a 3 hour drive ahead of us, we set off on our half marathon adventure; potato in tow. Although we were struggling with the front window steaming up, which was potentially caused by the steaming bag of potato (a potato which spent a few minutes dangling outside the window to test the theory) we made it to Tiverton in good time.

The grand canal canter consists of 4 runs- 2 half marathons, a full marathon and a 10k. The out and back along the canal allows you to break the run into doable chunks. At the start line we were unfortunately greeted by a gentleman wearing running tights… Which quite frankly are the worst invention ever created by man. These bright red tight shorts led nothing to the imagination, for a moment all three of us were petrified that the small chipolata sausage that lurked within would point us in the direction of the course for 13 miles.

And with a 20 second count down, it was time to run! The thing that people underestimate about steady runners is how long we’re on our feet- we work far harder than faster runners 😉😉😉 I joke I joke. We knew we had a long slog ahead of us, and for me the first 3 miles were the hardest. I know some people hate the saying but team work really does make the dream work, when there is a group of you the problems are shared and we work together to get to the end.

The views were incredible, you don’t realise how high up you are until you observe the rolling hills below, farmers fields and small little villages dotted around the countryside. The entire 13 miles you follow the canal, supported mainly by ducks and dog walkers the route was extremely straight forward- and flat! The only problem with flat runs is not knowing when to have a break, we soon got into a routine of walking under each bridge, so not to lose the tops of our heads, luckily there were roughly 9 million bridges!

Nearing the half way mark, it seemed that every sign pointed to the pub! Far too tempting when your training plan had been lacking and the sunshine is beaming- shandy was calling to me from afar. At the half way mark I cracked out the potato, a potato which I think was my super power. Sod the malt loafs, give me all the carbs.

We powered through, reaching the end and securing our medal which was thankfully not made of wood! It’s hard to think that just four weeks ago I was debating driving us up and watching the race from afar. My confidence is definitely coming back, with every run no matter how far or how fast. For me, spending a few hours laughing with friends while plodding along is exactly how I’d like to spend my weekend.

I’ll sleep well tonight, especially after this rendition of rocky horror that me and Tracy are giving Marnie on the way home.

P.s. The what 3 words were ‘tight enter fuzzy’, yes I’m a child with a dirty mind and I think that’s freaking hilarious.

Let’s start at the beginning…

Hello, I’m Danii.

I’m an on again off again amateur jogger. Never been fast and happily slow. I’ve managed to gain every pound of weight I ever lost as well as some extra (winter is coming) thanks to my friends Ben&Jerry and a fair few glasses of wine…

So, down to the nitty gritty- 30 is soon approaching, and thow shalt not be chubby dubby at thirty wurty. My motivation has 100% been lacking- but enough is enough.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the past year, I’m always in my head thinking that people are judging me about how slow I am or how much I’ve lost my distance. In reality… They probably aren’t. I am my own worst enemy and it’s time to become a self loving cheer leader again! I’ve done amazing things, ran incredible races, incredible distances with incredible people.

Achievements? I’ve become a run leader. And although I still have imposter syndrome… I love it. Encouraging people to run gives me joy, and pays back the club that’s given me so much over the years.

So watch this space, I’m back, I’m writing again… And for me to write- I need to run. I’ve taken my running back to basics, retracing my steps from when I first started running back in 2016… Even down to listening to ‘word up’ on repeat during solo runs (and dancing along when nobody’s looking…)

It’s not about the pace.

It’s not about the distance.

It’s about happiness.

Loch ness feedback…

Hello dear readers, long time no speak.

Believe it or not, I’m still alive… just. For some reason, back in January a small group of us thought running another marathon was a good idea. Consensus? Yes and no.

We travelled from the very bottom of the country to the top. All in aid of a 26.2 mile search for some sodding monster that I now have serious doubts on being real.

No matter how many times you stand at that start line, the fear doesn’t leave your bones. A marathon is something built to either break you, or make you. The day begins early, before the sun has reached the Highlands (I hear this doesn’t happen often…) After an hour long coach journey your dropped of in the middle of nowhere with stunning views of the country side, waterfalls and a row of men’s arses… those who couldn’t simply wait for the nearest portaloo. We were dressed as the budget tellytubbies- dipsy, po and some distant cousin we named marmar.

Traditional Scottish songs motivate the crowd such as ‘Caledonia’ and ‘500 miles’ and with a klaxon burst and a blow of a bag pipe it’s time to go! We decided to break the race in to multiples of 3-4 miles, because everyone can run 5k!.. Just 8 times.

In every race you meet people you like and people you despise. Overly cherpy Americans and heavy breathers are not your best friends, and the people that think it’s acceptable to deficate on the floor seriously need to get some etiquette lessons; and coming from me, that’s saying something.

The people you meet however; can change your day. After running along side the most stunning loch for an extremely long time, we bumped into Penny and Gayle. Penny and Gayle were battling the 18 mile blues just like we were. At 18 miles, a wall appears, exactly like the scene in ‘run fat boy run’, your task? Knock that fu**er down!

Penny was a seasoned runner who had completed ultras and marathons, Gayle however; this was her first time. After dropping mountains of weight and beginning her running journey just last year, here she was running her first marathon. Running can be a lonely experience, I knew then that I couldn’t leave her.

We stuck together like peas and carrots… See what I did there? 😜 When the race became harder, and steeper, we simply ran from cone to cone. Chip, chip, chipping away.

Her family and friends had come to witness her achievement, and with every cheer she received; I felt like we were being cheered on too. I missed my mum and my husband, the cheer leaders to most races I’ve completed. So in those moments, I lived through Gayle.

When the finish arrived, we were all ready for the run to be over. The burn in your feet, ache in your back and the dehydration from crying for 6 miles (true story) is very very real.

The past year I have found really hard. I lost my auntie and it affected me more than I’d like to admit. I lost my love for running, my motivation and most of all my self confidence. Day’s like today teach you to never underestimate yourself, dip deep, and although it’s painful? It’s worth it. I promise.

Lochness feedback?

1. Where’s the sodding coffee?

2. Toilets should have clear signage

3. If you have a gel, find a bin.

4. Lochs are bigger than you think

5. The monster? Not in there mate.

January…

I have finally, I think found my mojo. January has been fun! Returning to training, racing and even trying park runs!

My new years resolution of trying to join in on park runs when I can has been going well! I’ve tried Totton and Romsey Park runs- Romsey is the best (for me.) I chose to do Romsey on my birthday in the pouring rain with some running buddies, slipping and sliding through the mud felt like more of a Sunday social!

A few races under my belt this year, Maverick New Forest and Dark moors. I plodded round Maverick with nat (BAT running buddy) and she thoroughly took my mind off the fact I was running through my arch nemesis… Denny sodding wood. She soon learnt that I’m the slowest walker on the planet, we got round in a respectable time and with massive smiles on our faces; despite the woodals. Dark moors was eventful, the final race in the ‘dark series’ and Julie was out for gold! 5 miles in the dark round the forest, a constant battle against tree roots and ice. The aid station was packed with cider, schnapps, cheese and more- a picnic there for your taking. I love the dark races, there is no pressure, follow the person infront of you and enjoy the ride. If you stop and look its like following a glow worm, a string of lit up people paving the way to yet another woodal haha!

The highlight by far of January was the spa day… Totally un running related I know, but amazing. We had a full day of chilling, I switched off and relaxed. However, not one to take down an opportunity to eye up some ‘eye candy’ (I can still look 😝) we took part in aqua aerobics. I kid you not there was a full on bay watch moment, he came out the water like merman. He was playing on it, he knew he had a six pack and he wasn’t afraid to use it!… You know to show you how to correctly use water dumbbells obviously. Unfortunately, not gifted in much I struggled to either stay in one place in the water, or use my water dumbbells… A lovely old granny infront showing off her skills was more gifted than me!

I’ve loved January, I’m feeling like myself again. There are exciting things to come-I promise.