Surely indeed - 2nd October, 29th October, well within the month, with breathing space either side. Not quite the tomorrow I promised, but perhaps getting closer.
I keep supposing I need to have done something fitnessy, or diety, to warrant a post, but it turns out I made up the blog myself, I don't think anyone particularly reads it, I've already told all manner of lies in my empty post-update promises, so why not just write what I want? I think what I need to do is start writing something, just anything, regularly. I keep imagining I might give up my real job one day and write a book. I'd love to write a book, I tell myself (and a select few others). If only I ever actually wrote something down...then I'd be well on my way. I suppose if I don't ever write anything down I can't ever come to the conclusion that nobody would want to read my book. While it's in my head it can be terribly interesting, and witty, and readable. A best seller even.
I don't think I could write fiction. I'd mostly just write about things, boring things, that happen around me. I don't suppose it would be terribly interesting really - my life is not specially exciting, or different, or adventurous. The other thing that is not terribly interesting is the kind of person who talks about a fabulous book they've just not quite written yet. The kind of person I'd tell to get on and do it then, if it's that fabulous - just write it.
I watched a TEDtalk (my topic of the week a couple of weeks ago, as I bored everyone at work with, well, at the weekend, I watched a TEDtalk on...with it's vast range of topics it can fit almost any conversation. People are not as interested in TED as they are in telling stories about themselves.) by a man who talked about trying something new for 30 days, write a book, take a photo, eat vegetables, ride a bike, he'd done lots of different things for 30 day stints - a bit of discipline for 30 days saw him write about 2000 words a day, and he came out with what he described as a terrible novel. Shows it doesn't take long to spew out some content, if you actually sit down and write it.
So here I am, spewing it all out. I, if I do say so myself, really like my name for my blog. After picking it sometime last year I hadn't really thought much about it - unfortunately my absence from the blogosphere (sounds like something an old person trying to be cool might say) doesn't weight heavily on my mind - until recently.
2012 has been quite some year, it has at the very same time been my very best and my very worst year. I have been as happy as I can ever remember, and as sad as I can ever imagine being. The kind of sad that doesn't just blow over. Some days I just come home from work and cry. I say I didn't really know why, obviously it's because I am grieving, but I don't know what specially marks one day, or one week out from others. One week it seemed to be every day, so I wrote things down on a page of things I am worried about. Or sad about. Things that were on my mind. I wrote it in a pad of arty paper my mum gave me, which I hauled out of one of my many piles of things. After writing it I had a flick back through the rest of the pages, which I'd written/drawn on early last year I think. Turns out I was sad, and lonely, and down, then too. But all so easily forgotten when things start going well.
I might copy my worry list on here. It certainly helped to write it down. I've not shown anyone yet. When all my sad bubbled up and over again recently I very nearly showed my viking man. But I didn't. I'm annoyed at myself for not - I'm not very good at talking, better at writing, but I think sometimes talking is a good idea. I have a couple of people at work I would talk to, but I always feel if I don't have anything specific to say, then I'm not sure I need to. All I really want to say is, I'm sad today. I don't want you to do anything, I just want someone to know. Which feels a bit like burdening someone else with your sadness, making them worry about you, just to make yourself feel better, which doesn't seem very nice.
Since my littlest brother died, nearly 4 months ago now, I think I've been very easily irritated, not particularly tolerant, and probably teetering on some kind of edge...up and down, up and down. Maybe on a seesaw, on an edge. With something fairly hefty on the other end to bump me up sometimes. It's strange being "bereaved" (which I can't help just seeing as an anagram of beavered...), or "losing someone", which lends the question, where did you have them last? If I knew that, they wouldn't be lost...or maybe just having a dead brother, being 5 instead of 6, man down, having a sibling die. I don't really know how you're meant to word it - I haven't actually had to tell anyone yet except my viking man, and 3 friends, who I texted, because I couldn't think what to say. So I've never said it to anyone. It must have been awful for mum and dad, telling us for starters, then telling everyone else, just out of the blue for so many people, over and over and over again. I worry what will happen when I do have to tell someone. I have a little panic whenever I get into a situation where it might come up - I feel a little bit like I don't want to ruin other people's day by saying it. "Did you have a good summer?" "No, actually, my little brother died. How was yours?". It's just not the answer they're looking for. I suppose I'll have to tell someone, sometime. For the moment I can't even really tell stories about him to most people who know without them looking horrified, or with sympathy eyes - even if it's a story about slug pie - which is a really good story, with a kind of moral, and is actually quite funny. But everyone misses the point, because the whole point of everything now, apparently, is that he's dead. I don't really need reminding of that. I think about it pretty much all the time.
Every week, it seems, is suicide prevention week this year. Must be the season for it. Everyone's depressed. Or has a friend with depression. Or knows someone, who knew someone, who tried to take an overdose once. Or is raising awareness for mental health, "Cos it's a really big issue, ya know? Like, you just don't understand how big a problem it is. It's really hard for some people you know -not everyone's as lucky as you." "OMG I had like the worst 18th birthday ever, THE WORST - you can't imagine..." "Yeah, it's really hard, my friend has depression, I just don't know what to do.". And I'm sad for all these people, I really am - I wouldn't wish it on anyone, it must be awful, and I absolutely agree we need to raise awareness, and stop the stigma, and it must be terrible to have a friend who is unwell. But I can't help being a bit angry inside too. I don't want to talk about it, because I can't help thinking, I'll see your twin towers birthday, and raise you a little brother killing himself the day before your birthday, I'll see your depressed friend, and raise you a dead sibling, and no, I don't need to imagine how hard it is, and I'm sorry but I don't think any of this qualifies me to give some kind of expert advice on knowing someone with depression - I clearly didn't do a very good job of that, do not take tips from me.
Et cetera...et cetera. Everything annoys me. But it is easier to just keep quiet, keep the peace, I don't want people to fuss, I don't want people's sympathy, I don't even want to speak to most people about it. I don't even speak to you about the weather, why would I suddenly want to speak to you about something like this? I think I would just like a bit of slack, and a bit less selfishness - I don't want it all to be about me, but I'd like if you realised that it is not all about you. All the time. Though that seems to be all you know.
I'll write my worries page another day. Censored maybe.
Monday, 29 October 2012
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
B-b-b-b-b-b-b-blog?
I seem to have some kind of blog stutter, I have things to say, but I just don't seem to be getting them out...perhaps because I'm not doing any of the things I set out to do, which is not so good for the old chubb-o-meter, motivation, or desire to report back. Day 4,567 - Nothing has changed. Does not make for a good Captain's log.
All the while I have not been writing things I haven't been doing a whole lot else, except eating apparently, getting fatter, and less fit. So every day I don't write, I get further and further down the slippery slope away from my goals. Something needs to change. A few things have changed, perhaps I shall blame my demise on those.
I saw a video of myself trampolining the other week. Now trampolining is quite good exercise I think, but once a week of anything doesn't really cut it. It's good fun though. But I genuinely didn't realise I'm as tubby as I appear to be. I'm like a wrong way round body dysmorphic, the fat girls Kevin Bridges talks about in his sketches. I used to be quite muscly, now I'm kind of....lumpy. I'm still not a total beast, I've just generally filled out in all directions. Some filling in? unfilling? emptying? whatever the opposite of filling out is, needed.
I now tip the scales at a whopping heavyweight **kg. Which is embarassing to say, and quite ridiculous. Especially given that I was chubby when I was a good 10 kegs less. Now, well, that's a beast and a half right there. To add insult to obesity I am also still paying a gym membership, which I haven't used in an awful long time. Being the wily problem solver that I am, I thought to myself...gyms are places you can run, and swim, and train. I have a gym membership. I could do with running, and swimming, and training...I know! I'll go to the gym!
I think I need a routine. Perhaps an up in the morning and out to the gym for 45 minutes type routine. I'll not make a specific long term goal till I've done that for a while. But I have one in mind, Fat Lucy's 1000 mile challenge will also be reinstated, or woken from it's dormant slumber.
I've fallen in love. Not with food, I already loved that. Or with exercise apparently. I do love that, we're just estranged, artistic differences maybe. With a boy. Well a man, a boy, at my age, would be a bit disturbing, and illegal. I think that is the root of my health demise...I'm not holding him personally responsible, I just think the two are connected. Well, no, I probably am holding him personally responsible.
Before, when I was sad and lonely, I thought, I must try to be thin and beautiful, then surely my true love will find me, he'll rescue me (ready plucked and beautiful) from the highest room, in the darkest tower, my sylph-like figure shall emerge gracefully out a tiny window, we shall ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. In the end these things didn't happen, there were no windows, or dragons, or horse back. There was a viking, a (long)brief interlude and a pantomime. And then he just kept liking me, even if I didn't have pretty hair, or make-up on, or hadn't shaved my legs, or plucked my eyebrows, and even when I'm a bit fat. He doesn't seem to mind. Which I find quite genuinely baffling. But I've not said anything, you know, trick him into thinking nothing's changed, till one day I get stuck trying to get out the door and he realises I weigh 43 stone.
Hopefully it won't work out that way. So, in summary, I blame my loving viking man for me being fat(ter). But I'll need to change something, stop all this sociable eating, start some walking and gymming and swimming and make life more healthy all round.
I'm off to play netball, my second ever attempt. Someone shouted at me last week, and I think I was maybe a wee bit too eager, and stood on a waif like girl's toes. I'm pretty sure she stood on mine too, but she didn't even dent the soft trainer fabric...
Back tomorrow, (< said with mild-moderate conviction, and no intentions of taking any sort of responsibility if it turns out to be a lie). Laters dudes.
All the while I have not been writing things I haven't been doing a whole lot else, except eating apparently, getting fatter, and less fit. So every day I don't write, I get further and further down the slippery slope away from my goals. Something needs to change. A few things have changed, perhaps I shall blame my demise on those.
I saw a video of myself trampolining the other week. Now trampolining is quite good exercise I think, but once a week of anything doesn't really cut it. It's good fun though. But I genuinely didn't realise I'm as tubby as I appear to be. I'm like a wrong way round body dysmorphic, the fat girls Kevin Bridges talks about in his sketches. I used to be quite muscly, now I'm kind of....lumpy. I'm still not a total beast, I've just generally filled out in all directions. Some filling in? unfilling? emptying? whatever the opposite of filling out is, needed.
I now tip the scales at a whopping heavyweight **kg. Which is embarassing to say, and quite ridiculous. Especially given that I was chubby when I was a good 10 kegs less. Now, well, that's a beast and a half right there. To add insult to obesity I am also still paying a gym membership, which I haven't used in an awful long time. Being the wily problem solver that I am, I thought to myself...gyms are places you can run, and swim, and train. I have a gym membership. I could do with running, and swimming, and training...I know! I'll go to the gym!
I think I need a routine. Perhaps an up in the morning and out to the gym for 45 minutes type routine. I'll not make a specific long term goal till I've done that for a while. But I have one in mind, Fat Lucy's 1000 mile challenge will also be reinstated, or woken from it's dormant slumber.
I've fallen in love. Not with food, I already loved that. Or with exercise apparently. I do love that, we're just estranged, artistic differences maybe. With a boy. Well a man, a boy, at my age, would be a bit disturbing, and illegal. I think that is the root of my health demise...I'm not holding him personally responsible, I just think the two are connected. Well, no, I probably am holding him personally responsible.
Before, when I was sad and lonely, I thought, I must try to be thin and beautiful, then surely my true love will find me, he'll rescue me (ready plucked and beautiful) from the highest room, in the darkest tower, my sylph-like figure shall emerge gracefully out a tiny window, we shall ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. In the end these things didn't happen, there were no windows, or dragons, or horse back. There was a viking, a (long)brief interlude and a pantomime. And then he just kept liking me, even if I didn't have pretty hair, or make-up on, or hadn't shaved my legs, or plucked my eyebrows, and even when I'm a bit fat. He doesn't seem to mind. Which I find quite genuinely baffling. But I've not said anything, you know, trick him into thinking nothing's changed, till one day I get stuck trying to get out the door and he realises I weigh 43 stone.
Hopefully it won't work out that way. So, in summary, I blame my loving viking man for me being fat(ter). But I'll need to change something, stop all this sociable eating, start some walking and gymming and swimming and make life more healthy all round.
I'm off to play netball, my second ever attempt. Someone shouted at me last week, and I think I was maybe a wee bit too eager, and stood on a waif like girl's toes. I'm pretty sure she stood on mine too, but she didn't even dent the soft trainer fabric...
Back tomorrow, (< said with mild-moderate conviction, and no intentions of taking any sort of responsibility if it turns out to be a lie). Laters dudes.
Tuesday, 21 August 2012
It's been a while. I started writing again on 24th June apparently (so the draft tells me) I didn't get as far as the publish button. Here's what I had:
"A Brief Interlude.
In the context of the whole history of the world, which happens to be our current context, 8 months can only be referred to as a brief interlude. Thankfully, in terms of Fat Lucy's 1000-mile challenge you haven't missed anything. If you were to analyse my running during this period of absence you'd be forgiven for thinking I'd maybe died, or fallen into a coma, as I appear to have been entirely immobile. And I've gotten even fatter. Which makes the challenge all the more...challengey. It is not quite exactly the direction I took off in, but I am quite bad for getting lost, so I'll put it down to a geographical error, and hope that I can find the right direction soon."
I showed my blog to my littlest brother. He liked it, what little of it there was anyway. I promised him I'd do more. Tomorrow, as usual, lucky there's always another tomorrow.
[6/23/2012 6:24:48 PM] Patrick Ward: Blooooooogggggg
[7/1/2012 12:00:55 PM] Lucy Ward: I know....
Lucy Ward: I did start a post....
Lucy Ward: I'm rubbish...
Lucy Ward: got a few days off this week though, so should get some done
And then he died.
Turns out there wasn't another tomorrow.
So I have started again, broken the ice. Jumped back on the horse? Fallen off/climbed on the wagon? Started the ball re-rolling...
Many things have changed. I'll be back with more, I hope.
"A Brief Interlude.
In the context of the whole history of the world, which happens to be our current context, 8 months can only be referred to as a brief interlude. Thankfully, in terms of Fat Lucy's 1000-mile challenge you haven't missed anything. If you were to analyse my running during this period of absence you'd be forgiven for thinking I'd maybe died, or fallen into a coma, as I appear to have been entirely immobile. And I've gotten even fatter. Which makes the challenge all the more...challengey. It is not quite exactly the direction I took off in, but I am quite bad for getting lost, so I'll put it down to a geographical error, and hope that I can find the right direction soon."
I showed my blog to my littlest brother. He liked it, what little of it there was anyway. I promised him I'd do more. Tomorrow, as usual, lucky there's always another tomorrow.
[6/23/2012 6:24:48 PM] Patrick Ward: Blooooooogggggg
[7/1/2012 12:00:55 PM] Lucy Ward: I know....
Lucy Ward: I did start a post....
Lucy Ward: I'm rubbish...
Lucy Ward: got a few days off this week though, so should get some done
And then he died.
Turns out there wasn't another tomorrow.
So I have started again, broken the ice. Jumped back on the horse? Fallen off/climbed on the wagon? Started the ball re-rolling...
Many things have changed. I'll be back with more, I hope.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Soggy Sunday
Nearing the end of week 1, and all is going fine. I have been relatively healthy, fairly fit and feel like I'm going in the right direction. I'll need to step it up a bit to hit the first target, but that will be aided by brandshinyspankingnew...gym membership! Hooray! The weather will no longer be an excuse, it really was getting a bit silly running into a gale. With that kind of headwind training I could be a champ in no time.
A picture of this week...work, medium busy, I'm getting back on track and getting things done a bit more on time. I'm going to hardcore it for the next few weeks and try to get properly caught up. Pilates started again, which means an hour on Tuesday and an hour of cardiolates on Wednesday. I ran before both, only 20 mins or so Tues, then a set of 10 short fasts and some hopping and jumping on Wed. I jumped onto a wall, which easy as it may sound, I was mightily pleased with. I've never been good at jumping, never been able to leapfrog, mostly because I was self-consciously chunkery and scared of squashing whoever I was jumping over, so while everyone else gaily gambolled and leapt about I ran up thinking "I'm going to squash her, she must be scared, how could she not be? I'll run right through her, I can't even get my feet off the ground, even if I do I'll clobber her with my massive thighs" and before I knew it was there, half running, half jumping, full of fear, knocking people over. Oh, the shame. The wall was just above the knee, so not massively high, but a start. i jumped on 5 times, I think it's about my height limit at the mo, but I'll build on it.
I've been watching Crossfit stuff on t'internet, that's where I got the leaping from, I think I might try and integrate it into my gym stuff...not sure what the gym's like facilities wise though. Would like to get into doing some free weights stuff again, but that always brings the palaver of being a girl doing weights, while there are men, being manly men, doing weights wrong...I generalise of course, to make it all the more dramatic. So apart from Pilates and running and jumping, I did a wee run yesty, well a 30min run, which is as big as I get at the moment, and I went swimming a couple of times. I came up with a new swimming challenge for myself. I think I swim too much in my comfort zone which, as a non-swimmer, is a bit crap. Only a tiny iota above lady-swimming in the fitness stakes. So I thought I'd do some intervals, I did a 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1 front crawl, with a breaststroke length between each one. It took me 21 minutes. I thought I'd retime in a few weeks, see if I'm any quicker. I have no idea if that's crap or not, but it's no odds really, I swim with swim team on one side, engulfing me in waves, and old men on the other. Generally.
On the day I did the challenge, however, my poolmate was my swim-stalker. To call him that is probably a bit big-headed of me. I don't suppose just because he speaks to me he must secretly love me. Perhaps he is drawn to my swimming finesse? My graceful glide through the water? Whatever it is he is very there. A lot. I've met him before, in the pool, a few times really, he always says hello. A few weeks ago, when I made the mistake of being out of breath and stopping to dunk my goggles (he takes regular swim breaks, and was stopped at the same time, he is almost unavoidable his breaks are so frequent, I might convert to stopping at the deep end, frantically treading water while I dunk the goggles...). He said hello, I said hello, we had some idle, oh it's awful cold in here, yes I'm just off to the steam room, oh I think I've a bit more to do, chatter, and off he went. He reappeared while I was in the shower. I closed my eyes. Which is a legitimate thing to do in the shower, and everyone knows if you close your eyes noone can see you, and it would be completely inappropriate and against all pool etiquette to speak to someone you don't know in the shower who has their eyes closed. His etiquette was impeccable.
After an almost unjustifiably long time washing my hair, with my eyes closed, I rinsed and peaked out. No sign. Heading for my locker, who should appear from behind the cubicles. Yes. Oh what a coincedence! You were coincedentally lurking behind a set of cubicles in the middle of the changing area which have nothing in the vicinity. Just, hanging about, and here, you appear as I get to my locker. Oh, hi, yes, enough for tonight, I've got to hurry actually I've got pilates. And that was the end of that. Then, on the day of the challenge, what drove me through the challenge indeed, was the knowledge that he was There. Of course he was, being There, or Right there seems to be his specialty. So I didn't stop in the challenge, he appeared to have disappeared, then reappeared at the shower - Pilates again tonight? Uh...yes.
Now, I know he's just being nice. And I had resolved to be extra nice and outgoing and speak to lots of people I don't know, in a getting to know the world kind of mission. But I draw some kind of line at socialising in a swimming pool. You're as near naked as you ever will be with a stranger. I find it hard enough to speak to people fully clothed, why would being in a one-piece too tight swimming costume with my hair in all manner of directions and hairy legs(awaiting they day I am brave enough to epilate...will come to that later) be any more conducive to conversation? And if we do strike up some kind of weird swimwear shrouded swim/steamroom based friendship how could I possibly ever speak to you in real life, when I do have all my clothes on, when I know, in your head, I am wearing a swimming costume and goggles. And not in a Pamela Anderson kind of way.
That is the story of my swim-lurker. He seems nice. But I don't like speaking to people in swimming pools. I shall continue to be civil, and become ever fitter as I never again stop for a swim break.
And to the epilation. I'm not exactly sure where I was going with this post, I think I've left too many days to talk about all at once. My one minor blip this week(apart from the two crunchies and a piece of courgette cake...), which may be considered a downfall from the outside, but which I know inside was nothing of the like, was the few glasses of vino I had last night. At the thought of my impending gym goer status, and the fact that I already bare a lot more at the swimming pool, while speaking to people, no less, I thought I really should try and be less bigfoot like on the legs front. I thought one day I might even wear shorts to the gym. It might be far off...I'm not sure why shorts seems such a leap when a swimming costume is not problematic, but it does. So last night, Halloween Saturday on pay weekend, I stayed in, watched a film, had a couple of glasses of wine, and braved the epilator. I have epilated before. The first time I manage one shin. It took two weeks to build up to the second, and my legs were off kilter for some time.
I've never gotten into an epilating routine. It is quite sore...I tried ibuprofen, didn't work. I tried waxing, that was worse. I can inflict ongoing medium pain, but can't quite bring myself to rip all my hair out with a wax strip. So I went to get waxed. That was sore. And when I got home my legs were still hairy...so the pain didn't even achieve anything. I'm not exactly sure what happened there...I'm not excessively hairy, like some kind of chipmunk or trollman, in fact having epilated a few times I'd say I'm quite non-hairy. So, last night, 2 glasses of wine down I epilated. That's pretty much the end of the story, it was uneventful. I've vowed to keep it up. Today I bought tanny moisturiser stuff, my legs shall be chunky, yet smooth and bronzed in no time.
I'll be fighting them off at the pool this time next week.
I think that is all I have to say...Halloween tomorrow, I've bought sweets and nuts in anticipation of a child-sized invasion. I hope they appear or I'll have to eat it all myself. Probably.
I think this week I'll learn to skip, I'll try a bit every day after work. Gym goer as of 1st Nov, so I'll run/swim tomo, then there'll be no stopping me. It's going to be a veggie/soupy/fishy/spinachy/fruity/nocakey week this week. And heavy on the water, I've not been doing well on that front.
A picture of this week...work, medium busy, I'm getting back on track and getting things done a bit more on time. I'm going to hardcore it for the next few weeks and try to get properly caught up. Pilates started again, which means an hour on Tuesday and an hour of cardiolates on Wednesday. I ran before both, only 20 mins or so Tues, then a set of 10 short fasts and some hopping and jumping on Wed. I jumped onto a wall, which easy as it may sound, I was mightily pleased with. I've never been good at jumping, never been able to leapfrog, mostly because I was self-consciously chunkery and scared of squashing whoever I was jumping over, so while everyone else gaily gambolled and leapt about I ran up thinking "I'm going to squash her, she must be scared, how could she not be? I'll run right through her, I can't even get my feet off the ground, even if I do I'll clobber her with my massive thighs" and before I knew it was there, half running, half jumping, full of fear, knocking people over. Oh, the shame. The wall was just above the knee, so not massively high, but a start. i jumped on 5 times, I think it's about my height limit at the mo, but I'll build on it.
I've been watching Crossfit stuff on t'internet, that's where I got the leaping from, I think I might try and integrate it into my gym stuff...not sure what the gym's like facilities wise though. Would like to get into doing some free weights stuff again, but that always brings the palaver of being a girl doing weights, while there are men, being manly men, doing weights wrong...I generalise of course, to make it all the more dramatic. So apart from Pilates and running and jumping, I did a wee run yesty, well a 30min run, which is as big as I get at the moment, and I went swimming a couple of times. I came up with a new swimming challenge for myself. I think I swim too much in my comfort zone which, as a non-swimmer, is a bit crap. Only a tiny iota above lady-swimming in the fitness stakes. So I thought I'd do some intervals, I did a 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1 front crawl, with a breaststroke length between each one. It took me 21 minutes. I thought I'd retime in a few weeks, see if I'm any quicker. I have no idea if that's crap or not, but it's no odds really, I swim with swim team on one side, engulfing me in waves, and old men on the other. Generally.
On the day I did the challenge, however, my poolmate was my swim-stalker. To call him that is probably a bit big-headed of me. I don't suppose just because he speaks to me he must secretly love me. Perhaps he is drawn to my swimming finesse? My graceful glide through the water? Whatever it is he is very there. A lot. I've met him before, in the pool, a few times really, he always says hello. A few weeks ago, when I made the mistake of being out of breath and stopping to dunk my goggles (he takes regular swim breaks, and was stopped at the same time, he is almost unavoidable his breaks are so frequent, I might convert to stopping at the deep end, frantically treading water while I dunk the goggles...). He said hello, I said hello, we had some idle, oh it's awful cold in here, yes I'm just off to the steam room, oh I think I've a bit more to do, chatter, and off he went. He reappeared while I was in the shower. I closed my eyes. Which is a legitimate thing to do in the shower, and everyone knows if you close your eyes noone can see you, and it would be completely inappropriate and against all pool etiquette to speak to someone you don't know in the shower who has their eyes closed. His etiquette was impeccable.
After an almost unjustifiably long time washing my hair, with my eyes closed, I rinsed and peaked out. No sign. Heading for my locker, who should appear from behind the cubicles. Yes. Oh what a coincedence! You were coincedentally lurking behind a set of cubicles in the middle of the changing area which have nothing in the vicinity. Just, hanging about, and here, you appear as I get to my locker. Oh, hi, yes, enough for tonight, I've got to hurry actually I've got pilates. And that was the end of that. Then, on the day of the challenge, what drove me through the challenge indeed, was the knowledge that he was There. Of course he was, being There, or Right there seems to be his specialty. So I didn't stop in the challenge, he appeared to have disappeared, then reappeared at the shower - Pilates again tonight? Uh...yes.
Now, I know he's just being nice. And I had resolved to be extra nice and outgoing and speak to lots of people I don't know, in a getting to know the world kind of mission. But I draw some kind of line at socialising in a swimming pool. You're as near naked as you ever will be with a stranger. I find it hard enough to speak to people fully clothed, why would being in a one-piece too tight swimming costume with my hair in all manner of directions and hairy legs(awaiting they day I am brave enough to epilate...will come to that later) be any more conducive to conversation? And if we do strike up some kind of weird swimwear shrouded swim/steamroom based friendship how could I possibly ever speak to you in real life, when I do have all my clothes on, when I know, in your head, I am wearing a swimming costume and goggles. And not in a Pamela Anderson kind of way.
That is the story of my swim-lurker. He seems nice. But I don't like speaking to people in swimming pools. I shall continue to be civil, and become ever fitter as I never again stop for a swim break.
And to the epilation. I'm not exactly sure where I was going with this post, I think I've left too many days to talk about all at once. My one minor blip this week(apart from the two crunchies and a piece of courgette cake...), which may be considered a downfall from the outside, but which I know inside was nothing of the like, was the few glasses of vino I had last night. At the thought of my impending gym goer status, and the fact that I already bare a lot more at the swimming pool, while speaking to people, no less, I thought I really should try and be less bigfoot like on the legs front. I thought one day I might even wear shorts to the gym. It might be far off...I'm not sure why shorts seems such a leap when a swimming costume is not problematic, but it does. So last night, Halloween Saturday on pay weekend, I stayed in, watched a film, had a couple of glasses of wine, and braved the epilator. I have epilated before. The first time I manage one shin. It took two weeks to build up to the second, and my legs were off kilter for some time.
I've never gotten into an epilating routine. It is quite sore...I tried ibuprofen, didn't work. I tried waxing, that was worse. I can inflict ongoing medium pain, but can't quite bring myself to rip all my hair out with a wax strip. So I went to get waxed. That was sore. And when I got home my legs were still hairy...so the pain didn't even achieve anything. I'm not exactly sure what happened there...I'm not excessively hairy, like some kind of chipmunk or trollman, in fact having epilated a few times I'd say I'm quite non-hairy. So, last night, 2 glasses of wine down I epilated. That's pretty much the end of the story, it was uneventful. I've vowed to keep it up. Today I bought tanny moisturiser stuff, my legs shall be chunky, yet smooth and bronzed in no time.
I'll be fighting them off at the pool this time next week.
I think that is all I have to say...Halloween tomorrow, I've bought sweets and nuts in anticipation of a child-sized invasion. I hope they appear or I'll have to eat it all myself. Probably.
I think this week I'll learn to skip, I'll try a bit every day after work. Gym goer as of 1st Nov, so I'll run/swim tomo, then there'll be no stopping me. It's going to be a veggie/soupy/fishy/spinachy/fruity/nocakey week this week. And heavy on the water, I've not been doing well on that front.
Monday, 24 October 2011
Week 1...weigh-in
I'm not going to lie and say I've been saticking with it all week, which is not the best start as far as commitment goes. I know this blog so far makes for quite some giver-upper first impression...but I have an excuse. Not a very good one...but one I'll not be able to make again for a while, so I'm running with it. That'd be the only running I did last week. I had an essay to write. And everyone knows brains can't operate under diet condition in times of intellectual need. They tell you a balanced diet and hydration are the answer...I find M&Ms and tea sprout little trees of knowledge inside me. And, while I'm on the excuses, I had to renew my car insurance last week. More pressure(self-imposed, warranted). In the process of a 10 minute phone conversation with a man unsuccessfully trying to save me money I ate an entire bag of magic stars. Not the little bags. I suppose I fidgeted it off on my next, let me save you money! Oh...we didn't even offer you a quote online...? Right, well..., phone call.
So last week was a mixed bag. I did join the gym, I think winter will be too good an excuse for not running. And we have a corporate discount, I've justified the extra pounds in terms of food and alcohol. I'd easy spend my gym membership in one fat, drunken night.
On the plus side this morning's Monday weigh in was lower than last week. I'm a bit dubious about 3lbs though. I know they get excited about it on Biggest Loser, and How Fat Are Your Kids? and all such things, but 3 lb, really? I could eat 3lb, or poo it, or probably pee it on a particularly hydrated day. I think I have a massive capacity for food. I love food, and sometimes I do literally just keep eating, even if I feel a little bit sick...I was trying to think how much I could actually eat. Whether I could consume a stone's worth of food in one sitting...but I think that's quite a lot. Like a really massive baby, that was all I could think to compare...I don't think I could eat a whole baby's worth. But 3lbs? Easily. We'll see if it keeps going in that direction.
Today saw the week off to a good start though, food all good, grasped, then released chocolate...thin Lucy is watching you...! Maybe deprivation is making me mental...
I went for a wee run after work today, then a swim. Not very far, but intervally, so fairly hard. It is ridonkulously windy up here so running, I almost convinced myself before I started, is probably pretty dangerous. I'm not caught up enough at work to be blown out to sea. Not yet.
So week 1 done, not especially eventful or well behaved, yet a minus on the poundage. I have high hopes for me...3 weeks till Sombrero Saturday.
Holler, peace out, dudely doo.
P.S. Mostly the wind has made me think I wantt o learn to surf. I think that might mean I am surf naive, I'm nto sure gales are surfable.
So last week was a mixed bag. I did join the gym, I think winter will be too good an excuse for not running. And we have a corporate discount, I've justified the extra pounds in terms of food and alcohol. I'd easy spend my gym membership in one fat, drunken night.
On the plus side this morning's Monday weigh in was lower than last week. I'm a bit dubious about 3lbs though. I know they get excited about it on Biggest Loser, and How Fat Are Your Kids? and all such things, but 3 lb, really? I could eat 3lb, or poo it, or probably pee it on a particularly hydrated day. I think I have a massive capacity for food. I love food, and sometimes I do literally just keep eating, even if I feel a little bit sick...I was trying to think how much I could actually eat. Whether I could consume a stone's worth of food in one sitting...but I think that's quite a lot. Like a really massive baby, that was all I could think to compare...I don't think I could eat a whole baby's worth. But 3lbs? Easily. We'll see if it keeps going in that direction.
Today saw the week off to a good start though, food all good, grasped, then released chocolate...thin Lucy is watching you...! Maybe deprivation is making me mental...
I went for a wee run after work today, then a swim. Not very far, but intervally, so fairly hard. It is ridonkulously windy up here so running, I almost convinced myself before I started, is probably pretty dangerous. I'm not caught up enough at work to be blown out to sea. Not yet.
So week 1 done, not especially eventful or well behaved, yet a minus on the poundage. I have high hopes for me...3 weeks till Sombrero Saturday.
Holler, peace out, dudely doo.
P.S. Mostly the wind has made me think I wantt o learn to surf. I think that might mean I am surf naive, I'm nto sure gales are surfable.
Monday, 17 October 2011
False start.
It seems I've had a bit of a false start. Let's call it a recce. Now I know many things I shouldn't do. On the plus side I got to eat lots of peanut M&M's, they're less tasty cousin the "crispy" M&M, hmm...bacon sandwiches and some very tasty pasta. Mostly made tasty by the vast quantities of cheese and creme fraiche contained within. I did run a bit, swim a bit, pilates a bit, but nothing sensational. I think what I need to be sensational (it'll maybe be a bit of a leap...) are goals.
I knew I wasn't off to a winner at the end of my last post, vaguely thinking of 1000 miles, at some point in the future. As much as I loathed them in uni SMART goals may be the way forward. Now I have been doing a little "research", it was research in some sense anyway. I watched The Biggest Loser, the Australian version, and saw all the kegs those Aussies were shedding. I watched it while eating my creamy cheesy pasta and drinking cider. I shed an actual tear. I'm not sure if it was in honour of the program, or the pasta, or myself...but it was emotional. And I'm not a crier. Though the older I get the more I seem to well up...at the most ridiculous things. Overcoming adversity is the key to my ducts. Biggest Loser woman had to whack her way through a bit of wood. She did it eventually. Adversity overcome. Blub.
Anyhow, that's a peerie bit off track...goals! Them's the fellow. So 1000miles is the ultimate goal, and I'd like to get there by the end of next year, which, with the massive 10 mile dent I've already put in the target works out at 16/17 miles a week, which also allows me 3 weeks off, probably a bit on the generous side. That's a bit of a push at the moment, but once I'm like a superherosebcoepaularaddersfitnessdude it'll be a breeze. Shorter term I thought I'd look at the fatness. I weighed in again this morning. Limbered up like a boxer and everything, had a few harsh words with myself in the mirror, and came out heavyweight, or superheavyweight or something. Much about the same as last week really.
I like working with numbers so I got on the days calculator and found a nice round one - Hogmanay is 75 days from now. I'm not sure how good an idea it is having a target in the festive season, so I'm going to make one a wee bit further along too, and a couple of wee stepping stones beforehand. Mostly focussed around nights out. Because as much as I'm doing this all for me, so I can feel beautiful inside and out, have the confidence to walk on clouds and live my dreams, yaddayadda, I also would like to look nice. I'm shallow like that. I don't like pictures of myself, and I'd like to get to a point where I didn't mind them. I have new hair, I'm working on the make-up skillllz, I'm getting better at dressing myself, so if I eliminate some chub I like to imagine it'll help.
I'd like, on a tall day one day, to dook under into "Normal" on a BMI chart, I know it's not particularly reliable, and my massifico lift a baby elephant quadzilla thighs were not built for BMI, but it'd be nice to see if I can get there.
There we have it, a goal. Short enough terms to stop me losing interest, ambitious but achievable hopefully, though I'm not so sure on how low I can go weight wise...we'll see. If I find myself emaciated at any point with limbs like bits of dangly thread, I'll stop.
Today there was thunder and lightning. I weighted in first thing , ate ridicuously healthily, apart from a fudge bar and two tiny banana/fig/sunflower seed muffins...with all those ingredients they're surely at least one of my 5 a day. Maybe not so healthy after all. But I did run after work, wee smidger short of 2 miles, then swam a mile. And now I am for bed, early as it is.
Noches
I knew I wasn't off to a winner at the end of my last post, vaguely thinking of 1000 miles, at some point in the future. As much as I loathed them in uni SMART goals may be the way forward. Now I have been doing a little "research", it was research in some sense anyway. I watched The Biggest Loser, the Australian version, and saw all the kegs those Aussies were shedding. I watched it while eating my creamy cheesy pasta and drinking cider. I shed an actual tear. I'm not sure if it was in honour of the program, or the pasta, or myself...but it was emotional. And I'm not a crier. Though the older I get the more I seem to well up...at the most ridiculous things. Overcoming adversity is the key to my ducts. Biggest Loser woman had to whack her way through a bit of wood. She did it eventually. Adversity overcome. Blub.
Anyhow, that's a peerie bit off track...goals! Them's the fellow. So 1000miles is the ultimate goal, and I'd like to get there by the end of next year, which, with the massive 10 mile dent I've already put in the target works out at 16/17 miles a week, which also allows me 3 weeks off, probably a bit on the generous side. That's a bit of a push at the moment, but once I'm like a superherosebcoepaularaddersfitnessdude it'll be a breeze. Shorter term I thought I'd look at the fatness. I weighed in again this morning. Limbered up like a boxer and everything, had a few harsh words with myself in the mirror, and came out heavyweight, or superheavyweight or something. Much about the same as last week really.
I like working with numbers so I got on the days calculator and found a nice round one - Hogmanay is 75 days from now. I'm not sure how good an idea it is having a target in the festive season, so I'm going to make one a wee bit further along too, and a couple of wee stepping stones beforehand. Mostly focussed around nights out. Because as much as I'm doing this all for me, so I can feel beautiful inside and out, have the confidence to walk on clouds and live my dreams, yaddayadda, I also would like to look nice. I'm shallow like that. I don't like pictures of myself, and I'd like to get to a point where I didn't mind them. I have new hair, I'm working on the make-up skillllz, I'm getting better at dressing myself, so if I eliminate some chub I like to imagine it'll help.
I'd like, on a tall day one day, to dook under into "Normal" on a BMI chart, I know it's not particularly reliable, and my massifico lift a baby elephant quadzilla thighs were not built for BMI, but it'd be nice to see if I can get there.
There we have it, a goal. Short enough terms to stop me losing interest, ambitious but achievable hopefully, though I'm not so sure on how low I can go weight wise...we'll see. If I find myself emaciated at any point with limbs like bits of dangly thread, I'll stop.
Today there was thunder and lightning. I weighted in first thing , ate ridicuously healthily, apart from a fudge bar and two tiny banana/fig/sunflower seed muffins...with all those ingredients they're surely at least one of my 5 a day. Maybe not so healthy after all. But I did run after work, wee smidger short of 2 miles, then swam a mile. And now I am for bed, early as it is.
Noches
Monday, 10 October 2011
Day 1, going strong.
It all seems so easy on day one. Got up early, ate porridge, went to work early, actually did things on my To Do list (a rare occurence. The list has never shortened in the whole history of my being), only ate one biscuit - it had a picture of wheat on it, so it's not really a biscuit - drank lots of water, healthy lunch, not too much tea, ran and swam. Kaboom! This healthy life is easy. Always is for a week or so.
Today's run was a shorty, 2 miles, in 20 minutes, which takes the grand total so far to not even 6 miles...which means 995 miles to go. Yeeeeesh that seems a long way.
So today, against all odds(sort of, not in a warzone/emergency situation/horrendous weather against all odds kind of way...) I ran. The odds mostly were 1 - forgetting my measurey dude, the whole basis of the flipping challenge. But I decided to run anyway. Then 2 - I realised I had no sports bras with me. I did not decide to run anyway. For health and safety reasons the run was rescheduled to take place from home, not work. I'm a double or nothing kind of runner when it comes to sports bras. In a double sports bras or no running kind of way.
Lately, in a slightly disturbing extension to the never ending sportsbra saga, I have been getting boob blisters. Eugh. Not on the nips, as someone kindly asked, with demonstrationm should I have forgotten where they are, on a night out, but in between, primesite cleavage you might say. Bet you a pound Paula Radcliffe doesn't get boob blisters. I've come to the conclusion my boobs have gotten too big for their boots, so to speak. It doesn't happen all the time. Maybe some kind of change in running style might help...I'll get working on that.
All in all a fairly succesful day, managed to avoid the monsoons, was fairly visible in a pink t-shirt, ran mock-effortlessly past a patient and some youths and manned up up the hills(NB in this blog any mild gradient constitutes a hill. A long pavement dip at a driveway - hill.). It was rather dark, pretty chilly on my paws tonight, and that freezy throat way when I first started, not sure how I combat that...hi-viz, gloves and whisky maybe? Oh, the trials and difficulties of being a real life runner...ha.
Adios till tomorrow. Oh, I did a starting weight weigh-in this morning. The outcome was worrying. A tad excessive for a midget. Would like to downgrade from "Beast" to "Chunker" on my personal weight chart. As yet undecided what would count as Chunker. Whatever it is seems awful far away. On the plus side, it's (hopefully) not 995 miles away...
Today's run was a shorty, 2 miles, in 20 minutes, which takes the grand total so far to not even 6 miles...which means 995 miles to go. Yeeeeesh that seems a long way.
So today, against all odds(sort of, not in a warzone/emergency situation/horrendous weather against all odds kind of way...) I ran. The odds mostly were 1 - forgetting my measurey dude, the whole basis of the flipping challenge. But I decided to run anyway. Then 2 - I realised I had no sports bras with me. I did not decide to run anyway. For health and safety reasons the run was rescheduled to take place from home, not work. I'm a double or nothing kind of runner when it comes to sports bras. In a double sports bras or no running kind of way.
Lately, in a slightly disturbing extension to the never ending sportsbra saga, I have been getting boob blisters. Eugh. Not on the nips, as someone kindly asked, with demonstrationm should I have forgotten where they are, on a night out, but in between, primesite cleavage you might say. Bet you a pound Paula Radcliffe doesn't get boob blisters. I've come to the conclusion my boobs have gotten too big for their boots, so to speak. It doesn't happen all the time. Maybe some kind of change in running style might help...I'll get working on that.
All in all a fairly succesful day, managed to avoid the monsoons, was fairly visible in a pink t-shirt, ran mock-effortlessly past a patient and some youths and manned up up the hills(NB in this blog any mild gradient constitutes a hill. A long pavement dip at a driveway - hill.). It was rather dark, pretty chilly on my paws tonight, and that freezy throat way when I first started, not sure how I combat that...hi-viz, gloves and whisky maybe? Oh, the trials and difficulties of being a real life runner...ha.
Adios till tomorrow. Oh, I did a starting weight weigh-in this morning. The outcome was worrying. A tad excessive for a midget. Would like to downgrade from "Beast" to "Chunker" on my personal weight chart. As yet undecided what would count as Chunker. Whatever it is seems awful far away. On the plus side, it's (hopefully) not 995 miles away...
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