Join my club!

Do you wanna join our club? It’s called the Fat Girl Running Club. You don’t have to be fat. You don’t have to run, you don’t even have to identify as a girl. There’s no subscription fee, there’s no ongoing out of pocket expenses or odd meetings at the CWA hall with ice breakers where you have to sit on the lap of the person behind you.

The universe has slapped me in the face a bit lately. I’ve been trying to work out what her intention is… what have I not listened to? What is she saying to me about the people I surround myself with, the jobs I choose to focus on and the priorities I am misrepresenting. In my previous life, it’s about now I would have packed up, taken some long service and put myself on a tour of self discovery in India. And we could… but my passport’s expired, Abbie doesn’t have one and we can only afford a caravan park in Orange.

The second best strategy I have is to lift heavy things. In the gym, with a kettle bell is the next best place, lifting and swinging heavy things that take so much effort that it’s impossible to think about anything else. But my gym membership is expired – and my tiny human would tell me that ‘Mum, this is bor-ring!’ and sigh dramatically with rolled eyeballs. (Yep, she’s 3)

So what’s next, the only thing left I can think of is to get outside. Breathe the air, push the pram while Abbie watches some ridiculous shit on YouTube kids. I can listen to Lizzo, a podcast, or force Abbie to interact with me for an entire lap around the block. I might even teach her the lyrics to About Damn Time. I think she’d get the rap bit down pat.

I need something. Something to look forward to, a task that has a reward and something that forces me to be accountable, linked to others and most of all it just needs to be fun. I tried to get Michelle to waffle: an online journalling tool. It was supposed to keep our fitness journey accountable with each other, but my waffling friend lost her mojo and I needed no convincing to sit back down.

We talked about rewards and we realised that was pointless for us. If we want something, there’s a 99.9% chance that we’re just going to buy it ourselves. We want to go on holidays? We’ll go even if we don’t get fit. We are white girls of privilege and our consumerism is at all time high – and we aren’t feeling guilty about it, we are the mothers of young girls and we no longer drink our pays. We now spend our cash on shoes for little people, and wine for own fridges. Nope, this reward had to be linked to something else and we had to forgive ourselves for our apathy.

In the midst of this last onslaught of shit people behaving badly, Michelle sent me a link to 42K Your Way for the Children’s Hospital Foundation. (https://www.42kyourway.org.au) She said ‘we should do this’. I half heartedly agreed and thought no more about it – at all. It’s even a charity that I directly benefit from interacting with, and still I pretended she never sent it. But this week after I internally listed all of the signs from the universe – good and bad – I realised what my head needed more than anything, was some time outside. And if I can’t get to the pink city in India, I guess the The Gap will have to do!

So this is it. In August, the Fat Girl Running Club, which so far is Michelle and I, are going to do the 42k your way. We aren’t going to ask you for money. That’s pointless. We will front a $50 donation each. If we don’t make the 42km, we’ll fine ourselves an existing $50 to donate. Michelle’s worked out, that if we just do 2.5km four times a week, we’ll shit it in. I can do 2.5km. It’s not even that far. Abbie and I both have head torches, we can absolutely make this work and we’ll learn the lyrics to about damn time at the same time. Its a win for everyone, including the Children’s Hospital Foundation.

So this is your invite. You don’t have to be fat, a girl or run. You just have to decide to get outside and somehow, someway make 42km during the month of August. If your pledge is $1 – that’s enough. No one will even check if you do it, but it would be noice to have some company on the footpath.

What do you need to do to be a member? Well, a few things. You need to set yourself a goal or two and you need to share them with us. That’s about it. And what will you get in return for your free membership with the Fat Girl Running Club? You’ll get the password to the instagram handle @fatgirlrunningclub to post your adventures, you’ll have to buy your own t-shirt but if I can convince Michelle’s husband Clay to design us a logo, I might print you a transfer to put on your t-shirt. That’ll be pretty cool. But the best thing you’ll get in this super exclusively inclusive club, is our company AND something to righteously brag to your lazy friends about while they’re on the couch about. What have you got to lose?

My name is Anna and I am a founding member of the Fat Girl Running Club. My goals are:

Be small enough to fit in the slide in the park without having to walk my arse cheeks down the slide a bit.

Not have to lift my gunt for the airline host to see my seatbelt clasp.

Not have to pay the $50 fine so I can spend that $50 on whatever bag I want.