If you'd told me 3 weeks ago that I would be running 3 minutes without stopping, I'd have suggested that you were being supremely optimistic and asked for a pint of what you were drinking.
If I were to advertise in the small ads (I don't btw-married 29 years with three children all over 18), then I would be surprised if any ladies were forming an orderly queue. I'm reasonably active (a large black Labrador means regular walks), but the vision I have of myself is rarely matched by the grey haired going a bit portly reflection I occasionally catch sight of in the M&S mirrors as I pop in for lunch (and that chocolate bar can't harm. Or those crisps...)
Bank holiday Monday still sees that portly grey haired bloke doing the rounds. Not in a suit, but t shirt shorts and running shoes. And punching the air when Run 1 of Week 3 is ticked off the list. Friday night pints at Kingsholm were sweated out on Saturday evening. Saturday night pints and curry, and Sunday pints and BBQ weighed heavy this morning, but I persevered and even added a further 10 seconds to the last run to reach a physical (and mental) landmark.
It's undoubtedly right that the first day of each week is the toughest. After that, the rest of the week falls into place. After just trying to do the absolute minimum (trying perhaps the wrong word-breathlessly striving may be more accurate) in week one, I'm already planning a week ahead. Have found a pace that suits, a course that works, and a routine that fits in with work and family commitments.
If you're looking at this as a first weeker, or because you want reassurance that you can do it- just do it. If a fat bloke in his 50s can do it, you can. If you can walk to the shops at lunchtime, you can. If you can walk the dog, you can.
Trust in yourself and give it a go.