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.

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.

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

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...