Tag Archives: goals

Four Women, One Mountain, And A Wayward Dog

In the here & now, , , , ,

Saturday was an enormous day…I conquered my very first mountain. I use the word mountain in its loosest sense you understand, since technically Pen Y Ghent is a peak, but to me it looked like a mountain, so that’s what I’m calling it. I mean it’s bigger than a hill, right? It’s rumoured to be the most challenging of the three famous Yorkshire peaks, so let’s not split hairs…it was hard, and I did it. We did it, me and my three fellow mountaineers. Oh, and four dogs. I know I’m not normally big on photos in here, but this sort of feels like a special occasion, so I’ve included a few. Come on, I climbed a mountain!

13902766_10210918466144658_4191418712273541411_n

That’s it, way in the distance. I’ve got to be honest, I nearly did a load in my pants when I realised what we were actually climbing. I’ve heard the name Pen Y Ghent a lot…as a girl born and raised in Yorkshire the name is familiar to me, but I’ve only ever heard it in conjunction with somebody else’s adventure. Me and Pen Y Ghent have never moved in the same social circles, you know?  On the outside I was full of enthusiasm as we pulled into the car park – that’s where I took the photo from. The reality was, I wanted to turn and run, as fast as I could manage in the opposite direction. To a fat lass still in the early stages of recovery from a sofa-surfing lifestyle, it looked downright terrifying.

I was well prepared though. Well, I say that…I was well prepared for the heatwave promised by Yahoo weather on Friday night. I’d brought a lightweight waterproof jacket just in case it was a bit nippy at the top, and my sun-visor and sunglasses. Lots of suncream on my face you know? Didn’t want to get burned. As we arrived and got out of the car there was no evidence of any sunshine at all, and it occurred to me that perhaps the suncream might have been a bit premature.

The lightweight waterproof jacket bought with Cuba in mind a few weeks ago that I didn’t think I’d actually need to put on was a bit snug, in fact it’s safe to say that when zipped up it actually restricted the circulation to several bits of my body. To add insult to injury, when I did put it on, the navy blue and white spots clashed rather alarmingly with the black and white flowery pants I was wearing…I looked like I’d escaped from somewhere. Still, the rest of my prep had gone well…I’d brought some awesome sandwiches for our picnic at the top, and you know me…the promise of food was always going to help get my arse up to the summit.

14040108_10210918450864276_4818204594741548725_n

The first couple of miles were okay. We were climbing, but it was fairly gentle incline. We covered maybe two miles getting to the bit where it got steeper, and that’s about the time when all bits of blue disappeared from the sky altogether and the mist started to roll in, taking every bit of warmth out of the day. We didn’t feel the cold too badly at that point because we were starting to work hard…it had definitely stopped feeling like a walk and we were climbing. The marker saying Pen Y Ghent summit 1 & 3/4 miles frankly didn’t help. It might have even fleetingly brought on my for fuck’s sake face, but the thought of that roast chicken in seeded ciabatta rolls kept my feet moving.

I wish I’d taken pictures of the hardest bit, because I feel like I’m being a drama queen now when I remember how tough it was, but there was a point where we were actually climbing, like properly pulling ourselves up on rocks and everything, zig-zagging up what felt like a sheer rock face, I shit you not it was practically vertical. It was very foggy, very windy and absolutely bloody freezing by this point, and it had started to rain.

The Asshole voice was chipping in like mad every time I came to a bit that was particularly hard to navigate…you’re going to fall, stop this lunacy immediately, you’ll never make it, Just stay here, it’s almost the top and fat people shouldn’t really go past this point, in fact they’re probably not even allowed right at the top anyway in case they have a heart attack…

Weirdly enough, I didn’t feel miserable. Despite the cold and the wind and the fact that I’m scared of heights and I couldn’t see much beyond the next few yards. I just felt determined. And then, all of a sudden, the ground sort of evened out and there was a proper pathway paved with Yorkshire stone leading right up to this kind of monument thingy…we all looked at each other and the penny dropped. That was the summit. We’d done it. We were there.

13938352_1691091934545366_8740312221992343961_n

Check out those faces! This was us, at the top, hands on that monument at the summit…relief, elation, achievement…and for me, a burning desire to pillage my rucksack for the chicken sandwiches. And you bet your sweet ass we sat and had our picnic, in the cold and the rain…it didn’t matter. We’d earned it, right? Let me introduce you to these strong beautiful women…my friend in red was the experienced one, and led the way. My friend in black is amazing, do you know she’s lost over one hundred and forty pounds..? And my friend in purple on the right of the picture (check out @therealslimkayleigh on Instagram for some awesome recipe ideas) has dropped about seventy. Y’all know me, and my journey…I’m within touching distance of eighty pounds off now. How about them apples? We’ve lost over twenty stones between the three of us…if we’d still been living in Mooseville no way would Saturday ever have happened. We’ve all put in the hard yards to get to this point, and it’s beyond worth it.

Just to add a touch of drama to the day, one of the dogs fooled us on the way down the other side into thinking she’d hurled herself off the edge of the mountain, since one minute she was there and the next she wasn’t…it was so foggy and we lost her, only to be greeted about twenty minutes later by a very waggy tail further down the trail after we’d hollered, sweated, panicked and seriously considered calling out mountain rescue. As if that adventure wasn’t enough for one day, this one foot tall dog later went on to scale a six foot dry stone wall to go play with some very surprised sheep…she is an adventure on four legs.

So anyway I was expecting at least ten pounds off this week given yesterday’s expedition and last week’s sticky needle…not a chance. The bitch in the bathroom offered up one single solitary pound. Grrrr…but whatever. Not bothered, in fact I couldn’t care less.

I climbed a chuffing mountain 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

A New Found Respect

In the here & now, , ,

I had such a good day yesterday…I can say with a degree of certainty that any residual pain  would barely qualify as a stiff neck, and even my legs worked okay…pity I couldn’t make the same claim on Monday, holy crap I was stiff after Saturday’s ten mile hike. More so on Monday than Sunday for some weird reason, it’s like they lulled me into a false sense of security before they pulled a big fat ouch out of the bag.

That worries me a bit, to be honest…its only nine weeks and three days until we depart for Cuba, and I’ve got to walk further than I did on Saturday, for five days on the bounce. With the added buggeration factor of heat and bugs…the Asshole voice keeps chipping away in the background as part of his business-as-usual campaign to undermine my confidence and make me doubt myself but he’s not really getting anywhere with it. Most of the time anyway. I’m throwing everything I’ve got at this, and I’m as determined as ever. I can do this.

Anyway, I mentioned that I’d spent a few hours at the hospital last weekend didn’t I..? I’d rocked up after taking advice from the NHS helpline with a serious pain in my neck and no ability to move my head at all, and in order to diagnose the problem they had to check me from head to toe, including all the usual observations.

They tried to take some blood, and I had to pre-warn them that my veins don’t like to give up so much as a drop without a fight. Apparently it’s because I’m fat. So sayeth the doctors anyway. That doctor. He was actually very nice, along with the medical student who was with him. And let’s be honest, he wasn’t wrong, I mean I am fat. If further proof was needed, they then attempted to take my blood pressure, and the cuff was too small…it kept pinging open. They had to go get the fat-girl cuff.

Cringe…I sat there trying to decide whether I had enough energy left to be offended/pissed off/mortified at the indignity of it all, but for once there was no voice in my head encouraging me down the road of self-pity. I suspect I was too focused on getting through the consultation, you know? They’d already told me that I wouldn’t get meds to wipe the pain until they’d ruled out non-muscular related issues, so I was very compliant in the hope that they’d just hurry the fuck up.

I couldn’t help thinking that this time last year I’d have been devastated when the young doctor stepped back into the cubicle with the fat-girl blood pressure cuff…it’s the ER equivalent of an airplane seatbelt extension, offered up to the fat lady by a young version of Doctor McDreamy. This time, I didn’t much care, to be honest – I even joked with my boy about it as I sat huddled in the cubicle trying to see the funny side of anything in order to take my mind off all the hurting.

What struck me was the change that washed over the young Doctor as he took my medical history.  As he went through his list of questions, I started talking to him about how I might have hurt myself – the day before I’d done two exercise classes, and I told him all about trying to get fit…about the circuit training, and the boxing, and the walking and about the trek and the reasons why I was doing it.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment he stopped looking at me as a fat old woman with a face screwed up in pain, and saw instead a strong determined woman who was turning her life inside out to achieve a goal, not to mention risking life and limb in the process. But there was a definite shift in his perception…it was tangible.

As I shuffled in, he probably thought I’d strained myself reaching for the hob-nobs but by the time we left, diagnosed and drugged up to the eyeballs, I felt like I’d earned his respect. He’d clocked the grit and the determination and suddenly it felt like I was forgiven for being fat.

I can’t really call him on it, right? It wasn’t until it dawned on me that I was really going to see this this through that I started to feel respect for myself…I’ve got to tell you though, when you’re used to folk looking at you with anything on a sliding scale from pity to contempt, seeing respect in someone’s eyes when they look at you is very powerful.

I quite like it 🙂

 

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

From Zero To Hero

In the here & now, , ,

Oh my days it’s good to be here. I missed you guys!

It’s been the strangest and longest week, this forced hiatus from our regular chats, but genuinely I was in such a lot of pain last weekend that I didn’t need telling twice to follow the physio’s instructions to the letter…no laptop meant no laptop. It’s something to do with the position my shoulders and neck have to arrange themselves into, in order to be able to type…apparently it’s not good, especially if you’re nursing a sore neck to start with.

She wanted me laid flat, only getting up on the hour every hour to do my neck exercises and then back to studying the ceiling again whilst I rested. I did that from Tuesday lunchtime for a full 48 hours until my second appointment, by which time I could move again much more easily. And from there, it’s been getting better at practically warp speed.

On Friday I joined my work colleagues for a full day’s team building event which had been in the diary for a few weeks, I was so glad I could make it although to be fair I did sit around for a lot of it whilst they took the piss out of my lopsided demeanour, the rotten lot. We had a great time but I was toast by the end of the day, you know?

That said, some kind of sorcery was afoot between going to bed on Friday early evening and opening my eyes on Saturday because I woke up feeling almost back to normal. I was able to join a bunch of my Kingdom of Pain buddies on a walk we’d pre-arranged as part of their collective efforts to get me over that mountain…I can’t even tell you how relieved I felt at not having to wimp out, especially when it had kind of been arranged in the first place for my benefit.

Anyway, we ended up doing my longest walk yet at around ten miles, much of which wasn’t easy walking for a fat lass with a body held together by chewing gum. Some really steep endless hills, uneven ground and lots and lots of steps. But we did it, and I’m here to tell you that the sense of achievement afterwards was epic. Even though my arse was dragging and my feet ached and it felt like I had lead in my boots for the last mile or so, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

At one point, somewhere in the middle after we’d climbed some really steep never-ending wonky steps up what felt like the side of Mount Everest, I swear I thought I was going to throw up. But it passed, and I didn’t. You just push through it, right?

It was the weirdest thing, to go from two days of forced inactivity to one of my biggest physical challenges yet, sort of like zero to hero in one fell swoop. But listen, here’s what’s even weirder…all the time I was on enforced bed-rest, I was wishing I was anywhere but there. However, not once, even when the going was really tough on that walk did I wish I was back in my comfy bed. I was enjoying myself. Imagine that.

Yesterday I was stiff, and it took a while to limber up…I got up for a wee in the night and literally had to hang onto whatever bits of furniture I could find to get to the bathroom without falling in a heap because everything, and I mean everything hurt. But when I got up properly, I stretched, and loosened it all up, and went to my first post-injury exercise class. Then I put in a full shift entertaining my mum, did a load of washing and the weekly shop as well as another three and a half miles walking with the dog.

All in all, not bad considering this time last week I pretty much couldn’t move. I guess when you look after your body, it looks after you, right? I’m oddly happy with my weird week, and despite missing you guys I worked it out, you know? I worked out the kinks and did what I had to do, and I came out of the other side stronger than ever. Sure-footed.

Oh, and did I mention…? Another three pounds lighter.

It’s great to be back 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Colouring Inside The Lines

In the here & now, , , ,

rules

I like to think that I’m one of those folk who can multi-task, and generally plough through all the things on my to do list in the course of a day. I can, most of the time. But more and more often just recently I’ve run out of day with things still left waiting to be done and it’s twisting my melon big time. I feel like I’m starting the next day off in debt you know?

I know the reasons why…it’s because I’m making myself follow some rules. Now, I’m not generally big on self-imposed rules, in fact even the words are like nails scraping down a chalkboard. I have very few, and the ones I do have usually carry about as much weight as an eyelash. For example, my rule on buying handbags…if I spot another must-have bag for my collection, I have to move one on first. One in, one out. How often do I follow that rule..? Yeah, I think I’ll plead the fifth.

So being strict with myself is sort of a new concept and it’s fair to say It’s taking a bit of getting used to. Honestly, I’m feeling a bit resentful – even tearful at times. Obviously the Asshole voice has an opinion too of course but I guess that won’t come as much of a surprise. You’re pushing yourself too hard, you deserve better, nobody can be expected to put exercise ahead of enjoying themselves, that’s just fucking unreasonable and I’m telling you no good will come of it. You’re designed for comfort not speed, and fitness isn’t your bag…

Whatever, Asshole…the rules aren’t complicated and they exist for a reason. They’re helping me to colour inside the lines of this picture I have in my head, of me living in Skinny Town. My big picture features a fit, strong and healthy woman with endless energy and a rediscovered zest for life. I want that life. I’m reclaiming it, so there’s just shit I need to do.

Firstly, I need to get at least seven hours’ sleep each night…necessary because I’m doing a lot more physical stuff and if I’m fatigued I’m more susceptible to picking up an injury. Secondly, I have to complete at least five workouts per week, more if my work schedule will allow. Also necessary to increase my strength and stamina if I’m going to stand any chance at all of pulling off this 90km trek, which is now just three months and five days away.

Thirdly I need to increase my walking by at least two miles each week. I can comfortably manage eight miles now in a single walk, and whilst I genuinely don’t have time to fit an eight mile walk in every day between working and working out, I have to fit some walking in somewhere, every day and fully commit to the longer ones at the weekend.

Charlie-dog is also slowly adapting to the new routine…those long comfortable evenings in the armchair where he’d lay on my knee and have one long tummy rub whilst drooling over whatever I was snacking on have been replaced with walking, more walking and even more walking than that. When your dog looks grateful to cross the threshold on the way in, you know you don’t have the balance right between rest and play, but in preparation for Cuba it’s just how it has to be.

I do occasionally catch him throwing a longing look at the armchair but I expect he sees me do that too. I miss it more than I can even tell you, but this is my life now. And all that is set against a backdrop of busy demanding job with a long commute, and making sure I have time set aside for my mum, who needs a lot of support. I’ve had to make some ground rules especially around sleep to avoid completely burning out, you know?

You guys are awesome, cheering me on from the sidelines and I know you’re with me every step of the way, even if it means my words don’t come with the regularity that they used to. I’d love to spend more time in here and chat to you every day like I did back in the day, but for the time being it’s one of the luxuries that I can only allow myself to get to when I’ve fitted in the non-negotiables.

So, this should really have been yesterday’s post. Better late than never, right? I’ve enjoyed an hour of writing and catching up with all your news whilst my complex breakfast carbohydrates got on with the business of being digested, and now they’re ready to fuel this fat old body on another practise run. God of Pain has helpfully supplied some weights to put in my backpack which I’m going to be wearing for the first time…fuck my life!!!

Have a lovely weekend whatever you’re up to…see you on the other side 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Yesterday, I Earned My Tired

In the here & now, , ,

image

I couldn’t help reflecting last night, right around the time I fell into bed, totally wiped out from a very busy day, that yesterday I had earned the right to feel tired. And somehow, it felt like a good kind of tired, you know? I’d worked hard for that feeling.

Not too long ago, Sundays were all about being lazy. Chilling out, I used to call it. Which is kind of fat-girl speak for doing sweet sod all. In my fat-bubble, I’d lay in bed until late morning, cuddled up to Charlie-dog and reading the paper on-line, or maybe burning a couple of hours mooching my favourite handbag websites

First stop when I finally hauled my ass out of bed would be breakfast, closely followed by lunch because look, the little hand was nudging twelve so you know, it was lunchtime. God forbid I might miss a meal. My mum usually spends the day with me on Sundays, and after I’d collected her we’d usually go do a bit of food shopping before hitting the sofa for an afternoon of TV and chatter. All washed down with tea and hobnobs of course.

Then I’d cook something, and maybe have a quick snooze before taking mum home and returning to my big fat leather armchair for the rest of the evening. More often than not, as I hit the recline button I’d have the brass neck to declare how knackered I was, and how another Sunday had gone far too quickly.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment things changed, in fact if I think about it I’m not sure there was ever any kind of Big Bang…it’s been more of a gradual thing, but let’s take yesterday as an example. I was out of the house by eight in the morning, with Charlie in tow…we covered about four and a half miles before I dropped him off at home and then drove down to the Kingdom of Pain.

I did two one-hour classes back-to-back…circuit training followed by boxing. Yeah, I’d raise an eyebrow too if I was reading this. What was I thinking?  Well maybe it’s easier to share what I wasn’t thinking, you know? I wasn’t looking for excuses not to do it.

I’d booked the double class because work commitments on Friday meant I couldn’t work out, so I wanted to make up the session I missed. And I knew I was going to be busy with mum in the afternoon, which means Charlie would’ve missed out on his walk so I got up early to make sure we could fit it in. I didn’t try and negotiate any short-cuts with myself, because I enjoyed it.

The same can’t be said for the double helping of torture mind you…I didn’t enjoy that much. At all, in fact. But I didn’t try and negotiate my way out of it either. Mainly because God of Pain would’ve nailed me to the wall if I’d even thought about it, but also because even though I knew it’d be tough, I knew I could do it because you know what, I’m starting to think I might be tough…far tougher than I ever thought I was.

Fact is, I no longer harbour the belief that I can’t do it, because what I’ve come to realise is that no matter how much it’s going to hurt in the moment, I’ll come out of the other side with a sense of accomplishment. Those sore muscles and tired limbs are a kind of badge of honour, which serve to let me know that I’m one degree stronger than I was before, right?

When the actual fuck did that happen? That’s a monumental shift in attitude which has kind of sneaked up and said BOO…I hardly recognise myself.

I’ll take it though ?

Like it..? Tell your friends!