Tag Archives: exercise

Doing My Typical Thing

In the here & now, , ,

trainers

I found myself shopping on line last night for new trainers in anticipation of this new exercise-filled life I’m going to be living. That’s so typical of me, I mean at that point I hadn’t even spoken to the bloke, you know? I had no idea what kind of footwear I might need, because it’s a fitness studio not a gym, and in any event I’m hardly lacking in the trainers department, given that I bought a new pair back in January in honour of the hurt machine moving in.

Turns out that me and the hurt machine get on better when I’m barefoot so I don’t even use them for that. To be fair I have worn them a lot…mainly for dog walking. They’ve lost that just out of the box look, but they’re not exactly battered, in fact I would imagine that Nike designed them to withstand far more rigorous activity than they’ve ever seen on my feet.

I suspect my need to accessorise is driven by the fact that somewhere in my head lurks the conviction that if I look the part, I’ll be able to pull it off, in a sort of fake it till you make it kind of way. I’ve always been the same. I remember once in my later teenage years having the hots for a bloke who I knew was really into playing squash, so I tried to pretend I was too. I even bought a squash racquet so it could lean casually in the hallway when he popped round for a coffee.

My ruse worked, right up to the point where I ran out of excuses not to join him in a game, which unsurprisingly didn’t go well. He more or less stayed in the same spot on the squash court for a full hour whilst my chunky legs made a heroic effort to propel me around, chasing a ball I was never going to catch…by the end of the session I couldn’t even speak, in fact I was on the verge of needing an iron lung. It wasn’t the biggest surprise in the world when I never heard from him again. But despite the epic failure, throughout the nightmare I dripped Slazenger from head to toe.

I’m not quite sure what a fitness studio does if I’m honest..? I just know this bloke comes highly recommended as a trainer. Let’s not forget I’m a child of the eighties, so I’m seriously having to put the brakes on and stop myself running out to buy a headband and legwarmers which in my head is what everyone will be wearing. I’ve got my feet sorted out but I’m feeling slightly nervous that I’ll stick out like a sore thumb because I don’t have the right uniform.

Logic tells me it shouldn’t matter a monkey’s chuff what I’m wearing, as long as it covers the flesh and holds in a bit of the wobble. But then, if my life was remotely governed by logic I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this pickle in the first place, would I..?

So, I’m going for my assessment tonight, and tomorrow it starts. And you know how I’ve struggled with the thought of fitting everything in..? My weekend away with its enforced technology withdrawal demonstrated perfectly that it’s not all going to turn to ratshit if I don’t post every single day.

I’m going to force myself to cut back a bit and post four times a week, instead of daily…that’s going to feel very weird especially at first. But freeing up time to get serious about my fitness supports my longer term goal and I’ve got to be honest with myself… it’s the only way I can juggle all the things I need to do.

I’m thinking I’ll try and post on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Seems to make sense,  the blog is quieter over the weekend anyway. I hope that works for you guys.

You won’t all desert me, will you?

Promise..?

I can’t do this without ya 🙂

 

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So Go On, Ask Me..!

In the here & now, , ,

FUF

I can’t believe that just over a week ago I was skipping out of the office with a whole week’s worth of lovely things stretching out ahead of me and as of around 5.15am this morning when the alarm went off I came right back down to earth with a bump. I love my job, but I’ve got to be honest, I’ve loved pottering around at home even more. Sigh…I guess all good things have to come to an end.

Still, when I set off for the office this morning I was wearing a new top, and that’s always nice, right? I felt good, and even better still…go on, ask me what size it was..? Only a size twenty…I KNOW!! That’s a size sixteen to my friends over the pond I think, and I’m here to tell you I felt positively slinky as I got into the car, even with my one pound gain this week.

So that’s now four dress sizes lower than when I started. Let me hear you say YEAH! I seem to have been stuck in a size twenty two for ages, and I’ve kept on trying the next size down but you know what I mean when I say it fastened but it didn’t feel quite right..? Today, it did. Today, I was all over that bad boy. So the twenty is hard won and very satisfying, especially when people noticed, and commented…you don’t need me to tell you how wide my grin was every time someone did 🙂

It’s come just at the right time. I’m still a bit raw from being outsmarted by the Asshole voice before the weekend but there’s nothing quite like going down a dress size to give you a boost, right? I suspect my efforts this week will be turbo charged, and you know what, so they should be. I fully intend to make up lost ground, and this is the week that I’m going to pull my big girl pants on and join a gym.

I’m not looking forward to it, in fact I’m already wearing my not-impressed face at the thought of taking that first step. And all the steps that come next, as it goes. Even so, I’m doing it. A friend of mine has made a recommendation and I’m speaking to the guy tomorrow, but if for any reason it doesn’t pan out, I’ve already got a plan B…that’s how serious I am.

Tomorrow marks nine months since I started my diet. That’s a lot of skin in the game, you know? And it hasn’t all been perfect like it was in the early days. I spent a lot of time worrying that if I slipped and spoiled my perfect record it would all turn to shit but you know what, life’s not perfect. The life skill of being able to pick myself up again when things don’t go my way applies every bit as much to my journey to Skinny Town as it does to life in general. That’s what makes me a survivor in life, and that’s what’s going to get me over the Skinny Town county line.

If I pull my sensible head on for a minute, I can see it clear as day. The bumps in the road that I’ve encountered are giving me the opportunity to practise the things I need to be able to do easily if I’m going to make this stick. They’re not nice when they’re happening but without them, I’m missing an important bit of the learning. It’d be a bit like learning to drive without reverse parking being part of the test, right? I might get my license but if I ever needed to get out of a tight spot, I wouldn’t know how if I hadn’t learned that bit.

So I guess my wobbles left and right are serving a purpose, even if they don’t feel like it at the time. It’s good to know that when the fuck-up fairy visits she leaves a nugget of wisdom behind for me to find in the aftermath, and they all help to move me forward 🙂

 

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The One In Charge Of Me

In the here & now, , , ,

PT

My weekly appointment with the Bitch in the bathroom was banjaxed slightly this week given that I wasn’t here. I have to admit, in the past my Asshole voice would have immediately latched onto the fact that there was going to be a longer-than-normal interval between weigh-ins, and positioned it as a reason why I should take my foot off the gas, you know? Cut myself a bit of slack…I’m happy to report that this time I was having none of it.

I weighed myself a day early on Saturday, and I’d lost one pound. This morning I went for the pincer movement and got weighed again and I’m delighted to report that another of the little blighters has melted away at some point over the weekend, so despite the treats I’ve allowed myself, the balanced approach of earning the right to indulge and managing it within my food plan has paid off. I need to be a bit careful, I mean come on, I’m in danger of behaving like I’m actually the one in charge here. Oh…wait a minute…that’s right, I am 🙂

I was thinking you know, that I should probably try and get a couple of gym sessions in this week whilst I’m off work. I’m still a long way from being fit, and my Cuba Trek is now only 5 months away. That’s twenty weeks…sweet Jesus that’s hurtling towards me like a freight train. I know I have the elliptical here at home and I’m walking a fair bit, but I’m starting to realise that it’s not enough. In fact, it’s nowhere near enough.

When I was in the gym at the hotel yesterday, I wouldn’t exactly say I was pacing myself  against the proper people who looked like they belonged there but I couldn’t help comparing their pace to mine, and it dawned on me that in fitness terms I’m still more of a sloth than a cheetah. And whilst I know I don’t necessarily need to be a cheetah to conquer that mountain range, I do need some of the key ingredients that I’m missing, like stamina and strength.

I have neither. Which is kind of a flaw in my plan, right? In comparison to where I was, I’m a rock star. And mentally, I’ve got it all going on, but in terms of being where I need to be physically, I’m barely off the blocks.

I think this has got to be my reality check. The gravitas of what I’ve committed to has finally made it as far as ringing the bell in my head. Over five days I need to trek 90km of rough terrain, in heat and humidity, and as of right now I still weigh 257lbs. What the actual fuck have I done.

I’m going to have to join a gym aren’t I? I’m looking at it every which way up, and without a proper plan – and someone to push me – there’s no way I’m pulling this off. And there’s no way I’m backing out either, so much as I hate the idea and God knows how I’m going to find time, I think I’m going to have to. It’s time to dig in and start really fucking hurting. I need a Jillian or a Bob in my life. Someone who’s going to make me throw up in a bucket without allowing me break my stride on the treadmill.

To be honest, the very thought of it terrifies me, in fact it makes me want to bungee jump into a river of cheese balls and stay there until the world goes dark. My hamstring is still sore from doing the splits five weeks ago, my knee still hurts a bit and whilst I can walk for maybe five miles or so before I need a breather, that’s an awfully long way from match-fit. However. The responsibility of being the one in charge of me means I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. The longer term benefits outweigh the fact that in the short term I just about want to shit my pants at the thought. I just need to man up and go for it.

Rightio. Best find a gym then.

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Who Saw THAT One Coming!

In the here & now, , ,

exercise

Well, I’ll be damned! Who’d have thought it..? They said it would happen…to be fair, you lot pointed out that it would happen, and I nodded along of course, because you’re a bunch of wise old beans who know stuff. But genuinely, on the inside, and with my hand on my heart I didn’t believe it, not even a little bit. And yet. Here I am.

Did you notice, yesterday? At the risk of repeating myself, I wrote this…

I’ve missed walking this week – my sore hamstring and pinched nerve have given me more than a couple of challenges, but I’m slowly feeling better and it’s a gorgeous day out there…as soon as I’ve put my last full stop on the page, me and the furry one are going to go out and have a bit of fresh air. It might be a bit slower than normal, and it might take a bit longer but I’ve had a touch of cabin fever over the last few days, so it’s time to motor. That’s going to be up there flirting with a ten.

It was only when I was reading the post back to myself last night and looking at your messages, including an ‘I told you so’ email from one of the posse that I realised. It might have snuck up on me by stealth, but there I am in black and white, referring to something which falls completely under the heading of exercise in a very positive manner, as in I’ve missed it and I’m anticipating that I shall enjoy it to the power of ten. Bugger me!

Those words weren’t planned, they just tumbled onto the page with the rest of what I was thinking about. I wrote them without really thinking about them, and even as we walked, I didn’t realise that the Asshole voice was conspicuous by his absence. There was no nagging to hang an early left in order to cut the distance down from the route I had in my head. All I thought about yesterday, even as I was  gently encouraging my still-a-bit-tender hamstring up the big hill at the start of our walk, was how good it felt to be out in the fresh air, and not hobbling around at home feeling guilty because I wasn’t moving much.

And actually, whilst we’re on the subject, that’s another revelation. I didn’t fist-bump at the opportunity to sit on my backside all week and rest. To be fair there wasn’t much sitting going on anyway, given the bruising 🙁 but I genuinely felt frustrated that something had come along to disrupt the momentum that I’ve been building up over the last few months. I was even careful with my food plan to compensate for my lack of activity.

Even as I write this I’m shaking my head in wonder…I could almost use a cold compress on my forehead to help me cope with this amount of sensible. I didn’t do any of that through gritted teeth, or resent the hell out of having to tighten up my eating. I did what felt right, under the circumstances, and without really thinking too much about it in order to adapt and find the balance in a tricky situation. Me! I did that!! In a perverse kind of way, I’m grateful for the injury because it helped me see.

Every now and then, it’s good when someone helps me lift the veil off, you know? It makes me realise that bit by bit I’m changing. Honestly, I’m far more excited by the changes I can feel happening on the inside than I am about the fact that I’m four dress sizes down…my body has changed shape countless times over the years, but my head never shifted in the way it looked at things. This time, that’s what’s going to keep me in Skinny Town, right?

Two more pounds off this week…I feel strong, steady and very sure-footed. Come on!

 

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Trying My Best To Love It

In the here & now, , ,

hate it

I wonder how much longer it’s going to be until I can say that I actually enjoy doing a workout on this cross-trainer…any ideas? I’m starting to think I won’t ever get there. I mean it’s been two months now since it moved in and spoiled the feng shui in my bedroom, and I still have to force myself to climb aboard the damn thing and show willing.

If I’m brutally honest its very presence annoys me, and whilst I’m grateful for the effect it’s having in helping me build my fitness from the lowest possible base, I wish I could tuck it away somewhere unobtrusive. I guess that’s the drawback of living in a cottage the size of a shoebox, especially when you have a grown up man-child who shows no inclination of leaving home!

Everyone who knows about these things tells me that I’ll get to the point where I can just go into a zone for hours, without batting an eyelid. I’ve stopped calling it the hurt machine now because the reality is, it doesn’t really hurt that much any more. I no longer climb off feeling like I need hooking up to an iron lung and my legs function normally even after 45 minutes of activity…mind you I haven’t tinkered with the harder settings yet so I’m sure there’s more pain to rediscover at some stage. To be fair it’s not the pain I’m bothered about. It’s the boredom.

I’ve tried listening to music whilst I’m beavering away, and if the music’s not helping me get into my stride it’s planted right in front of a TV , so there’s no shortage of entertainment. I’ve got five hundred channels at my fingertips right there, but I still lose the will to live within the first ten minutes. Pushing through pain became the norm, certainly in the early days and I got quite adept at that but I’m here to tell you that pushing through the boredom is proving a much harder nut to crack.

How is it, that I can be completely gripped by some drama or other when I’m sitting in the armchair doing nothing more strenuous than stroking the dog, and yet the minute I’m strutting my funky stuff and breaking a bead of sweat upstairs in front of the same entertainment menu, nothing holds my interest beyond the first five minutes..? I invariably end up risking life and limb flicking through the channels whilst I’m mid-stride and given the amount of moving parts I know that one of these days it’s not going to end well.

I’m thinking maybe its Asshole driven, you know? Maybe there’s some kind of trip-switch in my head where as soon as the cavernous yoga pants come out and the trainers go on, he sprints from his stool in the corner of my head and flicks the switch to ‘bored’ since pain failed to dent my determination and it’s one of the few options open to him. Hell, he’s probably got KPIs to hit like the rest of us, right?

I know what the experts say, about exercise being like a drug and once it gets you it really gets you. I just don’t get it. And that’s a bit of a bummer. I want to get it. I’ve tried really hard and I swear I’m not going to give up but it would be lovely to stride towards it, even just one time, without wishing I could take a lump hammer to the dratted thing and burn the equivalent amount of calories smashing it to smithereens 🙂

 

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