Huphuphuphuphuphuphup

I've been feeling oh-so-slightly portly lately, presumably due to the fact that I'm oh-so-slightly portly, and in keeping with the D-plan diet I've upped the amount of exercise I do.

So it was that Saturday found me climbing this (the hill, not the thistle):


So enthused by my fitness regime that I actually ran the last few hundred feet to the top. For a few, brief shining moments this actually felt quite good - hopping from rock to rock as I bounced past bemused hikers to the summit.
It felt pretty good. Briefly.
by the time I got to the top, my vision was grey, my head was pounding and I was gasping like AAaaaaaaaaaaah-huuuh AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaah-huuuuuuuuh Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-huh.
When I recovered I set off down again at a more stately pace. However, I was enthused by this walking malarkey, so after a can of something sugary and a Mars Bar I climbed this:


I took it a bit easier this time round.

And then, because I was in the groove, I climbed this again:


By the time I was two thirds of the way up, I didn't start running this time. I sat down on a rock and thought to myself Just exactly why am I doing this again?.

So what did you do this weekend?