Let me start with the thing that no one likes to say out loud:
Losing weight didn’t magically make running easier.
Don’t get me wrong — dropping 5 stone has done a lot of good things for me. I feel better in my body. I move better. My knees don’t make as many threatening noises when I go downstairs.
But did it suddenly turn me into a sleek, high-performance running machine?
Nope. Not even close.
In fact, some of my toughest runs came after the weight loss, not before. Because here’s the thing: fitness and fat loss aren’t the same thing. And while weight can affect how heavy you feel on the move, it’s not the secret ingredient to enjoying a run.
This post isn’t about how to lose weight (there’s already too much of that nonsense online). It’s about what actually helped me enjoy running more — after the weight came off, and after the novelty wore off.
First: A Quick Word on the 5 Stone
For context — when I started, I was overweight, tired, and everything ached. Not in the “oh I’ve trained hard” way, but in the “my shoes are off and I still want to sit down” way.
I didn’t suddenly become a runner. I started walking. Then a walk-jog. Then I slowly pushed the jogging bit a bit longer. The pounds started coming off. Then more walking. Then more food awareness (not dieting — just fewer packets of biscuits inhaled after dinner).
Eventually, five stone lighter and several wardrobe sizes down, I figured running would now feel amazing.
It felt… the same. But now I had expectations.
Lighter Isn’t Always Easier
Here’s what I found out the hard way: losing weight doesn’t fix your form, improve your cardio, or make your calves fire like pistons. All the stuff that makes running enjoyable — or even tolerable — still has to be trained.
If you hated hills before, you’ll still hate hills after.
If you struggled with pacing before, that doesn’t suddenly click into place.
If your hamstrings were tighter than piano wire at 17 stone, they’re probably still twitchy at 12 stone.
Yes, I moved more easily. But I didn’t move better — not yet.
And that’s where the next bit comes in.
What Actually Helped
These are the things that really made the difference for me — and none of them involved the scales.
1. Running Slower (On Purpose)
This was a game-changer. I used to think running meant pushing hard. Going fast. “Getting it done.” But all that did was leave me gassed after 10 minutes and questioning my life choices.
Once I gave myself permission to slow down — properly slow — everything changed.
I could go further. I stopped dreading runs. I actually enjoyed being out. And I stopped seeing walking breaks as failure, which took a massive mental load off.
Turns out you build endurance by not treating every run like a time trial. Who knew?
2. Learning to Breathe (Instead of Panic Puffing)
When I first started, my breathing sounded like someone had shoved a hoover into a bagpipe. It was all over the place — shallow, wheezy, dramatic.
Then I started focusing on breathing slower. In through the nose when I could, steady exhale, trying to keep my shoulders from joining the effort.
It didn’t happen overnight, but over time I stopped sounding like I was being chased by wolves. And with that calmness came a rhythm — and with rhythm came actual pace. A sustainable one.
3. Wearing the Right Shoes
I tried to save money on shoes once. Got a cheap pair that looked nice. They felt fine in the shop. First 5K in them and it was like someone had put bricks in my shins and sandpaper in my arches.
Eventually I found the right pair for me (Brooks Adrenaline GTS, if you’re curious), and it was night and day.
Running didn’t become effortless — but it became less punishing. More like “movement with potential” rather than “please let this end”.
4. Using Music to Get Out of My Own Head
I run alone. Always have. Running groups feel a bit too… much. Too chatty. Too structured. Too aware that someone’s watching my pace.
But silence doesn’t help me either — all I hear is my breathing, my footfalls, and the creeping doubt that maybe I should turn around.
Music helps. I use Shokz so I can still hear what’s around me, but the beat distracts me from the inner monologue. Sometimes I don’t even notice the miles going by — which, let’s be honest, is the dream.
5. Letting Go of What Other People Think
This was a big one.
When I first started, I worried people would laugh. At my pace. At my body. At how red-faced and sweaty I looked after 500m.
Now? I realise nobody’s paying attention. And if they are — who cares?
If someone sees me out there running and thinks “good on him” — great. If they think “he’s slow” — I’m still running. And they’re standing still.
Freedom from that imagined audience has made running lighter in every way.
Running Is Still Hard Sometimes — And That’s Okay
Look, I’m not going to pretend every run now feels like a scene from a sports film. Some days I slog through every step. Some days I wonder why I bother. Some days it rains sideways and I forget why this ever seemed like a good idea.
But I always feel better after. Even if it’s just 1% better — that’s enough.
Weight loss gave me a head start. But what’s kept me going is all the other stuff — the mindset, the kit, the pacing, the consistency. And most of all, the decision to stick with it even when it isn’t perfect.
Final Thoughts
Losing five stone changed my life — there’s no getting around that. I feel better. I sleep better. I’ve got more energy for my kids. I don’t dread stairs anymore.
But it didn’t suddenly make running easy. It just made it possible.
What’s made it enjoyable has been the slow, steady grind of learning how my body works — what it needs, what it doesn’t, and how to get out of my own way.
So if you’ve lost weight and still feel like you’re struggling? You’re not broken. You’re just human. Keep going. Keep learning. Keep running — slowly, messily, proudly.
Because trust me — that’s when it gets good.