I ache. Everywhere.
As a person who isn't fit, never has been fit and is unlikely to be very fit in the future without someone forcing/barking at/prodding me, running a get-fit-for-summer blog for the next two months seemed like an idea that actually had a point.
Also as an IBTimes UK journalist, I like to read more than I like to practise the triple jump, I like to write more than I like to do press-ups and in my book HP Lovecraft trumps Wayne Rooney. Always. So this really was a bit of a "let's train the unfit nerd up and see what happens".
With only a quirky announcement that I'd like to run a get-fit-for-summer blog at an IBTimes UK news meeting, I was calling trainers and asking if they fancied the most challenging job in the world - training me.
Suddenly I began to realise what this actually meant: hard work and sweat - lots of sweat. Oh, and pain. For two months.
I finally settled on a personal trainer named Drew Perrott who came highly recommended, and when I met him, I actually liked him - which was, of course, a start. Drew's training repertoire also boasts exotic exercises like Thai boxing which he learnt at "the world-famous Lamai training camp in Thailand".
For this regime, I promised Drew that I would quit smoking and lager. He didn't force me, but I felt it was a good idea and could add an extra dimension to the blog.
Did I mention I'd be training with him five times a week?
Drew has diet instructions as well. Everything that passes my lips must be filed in a notebook and presented at the end of the week and this includes the odd sly fag or pint of lager. I will be honest, I promise.
My first session was on 24 April and - under the impression we were going for a two-mile run - we jogged almost four miles. This from a man who uses public transport for any distance over a mile and a cab for anything over two.
A precise distance of 3.69 miles in 41 minutes, which I was very proud of considering my heart rate was hitting 194bpm, was some achievement.
This was all in preparation for my first milestone - a 10k run around Canary Wharf, home turf of IBTimes UK.
I woke up the next day feeling like Seamus, the wooden-limbed sailor from Family Guy. My legs were sore and achy.
Fortunately, I had another session arranged for a few hours later at lunch-time. And now everything, and I mean everything, is sore and achy.
Thai boxing sounded amazingly fun, but it just so happens it is the single most gruelling test of your fitness. But you don't feel like you're doing anything good unless you feel like you are - literally - dying... right?
And belated apologies for the picture - it wasn't my idea and I was pressured into it. I will recompense you for any therapy you may require. A warning: there will be topless photographs of me every week as I blog my way to a superfit Adonis-like body.
Homeward for a long muscle soak and a gin.