Run for Home

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It was going to happen eventually, on reflection. Running is becoming a thing. Not an all-consuming, must do a Marathon thing, but an accepting this is the future thing. Now this truth has been grasped, it was time to get my Trainer on board. I’m struggling with energy levels, wanting to eat all the time, and this is not healthy. I’ve had a fair few myths about eating for training quietly and sensibly rebuked, and now it is time to start with an exercise programme which I hope will finally provide some much-needed stamina.

I stopped wanting to do DPS and, after all these years, am considering tanking.

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We begin on Wednesday. I have to take a notebook with me. There will be food plans, which this close to Christmas might seem a bit hopeful, but really it isn’t. I love to joke I hate being organised, but that’s a big fat lie. It is far easier being told what to do than it ever is when you’re on your own. Knowing what is required allows a mind to stop obsessing on minor and often distracting details. I am reminded of the truth that some people simply work better to a schedule than others. My goal is distance, but not overnight, because breathing is the limiting factor. I’m off to the Doctors on Friday for some poking on that front. Then we’ll just start working and see what happens.

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The hardest part, in all of this, will not be the exercise. It is going to be food. Comfort eating is still a thing, even if I’ve (largely) cured my sugar addiction. Wanting to stuff my face when cold, or feeling depressed, or any of the 101 things in-between. In fairness, my Trainer understands that removing all the bad stuff from my diet isn’t realistic, or indeed fair. Learning when the right moment for indulgence is can be a tough ask for those of us who like to work to a plan. It’s all part of the cosmic balancing act I’m only now beginning to be capable of doing.

I’ve already eaten the fruit bar. The kids can have a biscuit each, and so can my husband and then I’ll consider what’s left. We’ll get on the scales again after Christmas is done.

Let’s see how things go.

Walk on By

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I have been remiss on my step count of late. There are lots of reasons for this, most of which involve getting the Patreon off the ground. However, the Summer holiday is providing a head start in getting step numbers back up to the point where breaking my current record of 35k in a day might yet be doable. Today, for instance, involved dropping off the car, walking to the Gym then back, with 30 minutes of VERY brisk walking when I got there to help sort my legs out after yesterday’s PT. Then I strolled back, before doing to and from the supermarket with the youngest. It meant I could pretty much eat what I liked, and there should be more days like this and not less. It definitely helps that the weekend cold/virus thing is virtually gone, and that this morning wasn’t damp or wet. In fact, it must be said, I even enjoyed walking down the main road which is normally never that much fun during rush hour.

The plan tomorrow therefore is to walk to pick up the car, drop it off here, then walk to the Gym early, do a session of cardio and weights to be back as my daughter gets up. Then there will undoubtedly be a walk somewhere else in the afternoon (probably for bread) and I can try and use 18k as a starting point. If I can do that all week, it should set me up for the weekend’s real challenge.

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On Saturday, Central London is effectively closed to traffic, and for the entire day you can bike around it. The RideLondon Freecycle is the precursor to Sunday’s RideLondon main event, the 120 mile race around the 2012 Olympic circuit which Mr Alt’s taken part in since inception. This year myself and the youngest get to go and throw ourselves past some of the most iconic parts of London history and not worry about being mown down by a continental lorry driver. I have to admit I am rather looking forward to it, assuming that the weather holds. If it does, expect all the pictures, plus I suspect there will be Pokemon hunting to boot. It should make this week a bumper one for miles, and *crosses everything* perhaps my hyper efficient fat to muscle exchange of a body could take the weight down a bit in the process.

A girl can dream, after all.

No Surprises

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Eight hours sleep is GLORIOUS.

The problems don’t go away after a good night. You just have more energy and desire to solve them.

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450 days of My Fitness Pal and it is only in the last two weeks that the process is bearing fruit. It is a sobering reminder that it doesn’t matter how long something happens, there’s only ever a difference made when application comes into play. Getting down to a target weight and staying there asks a lot of you, and it is easy to see after a hard day where the slip ups can come. Last night, I’ll be honest, ended up 15g over my fat goal with Breakfast Cups for dinner but boy, did I need them. Low carbs and sugar is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It has been an absolute revelation staring at food that I’d normally eat and realising just how much sugar is in just about everything.

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Knowing which basic foods are bad is not a problem: avoid starchy stuff, white rice is not great, white flour is the Devil’s work. The hope, of course, is that you end up in the ‘healthy eating’ aisle of the Supermarket where everything is 40% more expensive under the auspices of ‘balanced.’ Except, if you look closely, that’s often a lie too. We’ve already had the discussion about sugar in ‘whole food’ bars, and the alternatives I’ve discovered fall into two distinct camps: ridiculously expensive and essentially soulless or eating raw. I’ve therefore gained massive amounts of satisfaction in the last two days taking whole pomegranate and separating out seeds, saving a small fortune and pointless packaging. The future is doing it myself, if I wasn’t already grasping the truth.

Then, I remind myself I didn’t exercise yesterday. That was no bad thing, all told, and there’s energy in my legs plus determination in upper body to go do good work. I had an omelette at the Gym on Monday, as opposed to my normal order of flatbread and today I suspect I’ll do some kind of salad to at least keep up the pretence of vegetables. I’m not going to lie, all I want right now is cake and tea and bread and butter pudding until I’m full. I get how this works. However, if I’m going to break my body’s desire to not lose weight, something has to give.

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I don’t need a Treat day any more. I’m not looking forward to that bar of well-deserved chocolate or the slice of cake, because as soon as they are ingested my body swells. It is impossible to guilt free eat ANYTHING sugary right now, and that may be the case until my hormones finally leave for good. Knowing this, I am simply determined to keep going, not look back and run my way out of the craving. Most days, as it transpires, that works surprisingly well.

Let’s see if today is one of them.

The Old Songs :: Two

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Okay, I’m back at a PC: I took a tablet with me across the weekend, but there was simply not enough time to write. Honestly, the last three days have been more packed than has been the case for MONTHS… and I want to make sure I get it all recorded before memories fade. Therefore, let us start with Friday night, and I’ll detail Saturday and Sunday starting next week.

Dinner: Prawns, courgette fries BOOM

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This time, we left early as last year’s driving around in the dark in a strange place was, to put it mildly, quite stressful. Once the Hotel was found and we’d checked in, the next task was to find somewhere to eat. Having missed dinner, we were directed by hotel Staff to The Old Dog at Ashbourne, and dinner was simplicity and brilliance all rolled into a small, perfectly formed package. Mr Alt took a burger and I went healthy, until I ordered a pint of Rhubarb Cider and everything went downhill very fast. It was, more or less, like drinking highly alcoholic cordial, and there could have been many, MANY glasses bought. Fortunately, common sense prevailed, because the plan for Saturday morning was to cycle to the event.

Thanks to the wonderful way the railways were fairly savagely shut down back in the 1960’s [see Beeching’s Cuts] there are a lot of cycle paths around the Derbyshire Peak District, one of which is conveniently located at the back where we were staying, effectively providing a direct route to Eroica’s doorstep. Nine and a bit miles is more distance than I’ve taken on in any form since the operation, so I’ll admit being nervous, and that’s probably why not too much got drunk on Friday night. My bike was bought especially for the occasion: a Nigel Dean World Tour (circa 1982) which is now, I suspect, going to get a complete overhaul, and we were up bright and early on Saturday morning to do the run to the event.

You can have those stories tomorrow, after I’ve had a much needed night’s sleep in my own bed…

This is the Day

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Once this is written, I’ll be off to the Gym, for my first ‘serious’ hit at exercise since the Operation.

When I say ‘serious’ I am well aware I cannot go back to the level of exercise I was doing before. However, what can take place is a restart with glutes and obliques, strengthening my core muscles, and see how push ups and planks will work. I can also go back to the Octane machine for a lovely gentle all-over body warm up. My Trainer has details of what can and cannot be done, and on Monday I fully expect to be given stuff to keep me occupied. What can happen in the intervening period is lots of walking, and an emphasis on making sure moving is prioritised over inactivity.

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Most importantly of all, my thirst for writing fiction has resurfaced. I have a plan to completely re-write the start of my main WIP, based on some ideas that have surfaced since the Operation. I also have a 2000 word short story to complete for the upcoming Internet of Words project, which will be kicking into high gear this weekend. There’s probably a series of posts on my mental state post-operation as well, because I’m only now beginning to grasp just how much better I feel psychologically as a result of the gallbladder removal.

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Let’s start the way I mean to go on. Every day from now on starts with the Personal Post. If you want to know what’s going on in my head? Here’s where to find it. Every so often, I’ll post a nugget of personal background too.

Let’s make this place earn its keep, shall we?

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Back to the Grind πŸ˜„#photographer #365photochallenge

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Some days EVERYTHING is hard work. The first day back after the Easter break was a 6.30am wake up call. My subconscious again was out to scupper me but it was pushed through and dealt with, I had to go a completely different route to and from school thanks to multiple accidents, and I’ve just come back from a Gym session that REALLY hurt. I didn’t do what I’d planned but it doesn’t matter, it was a lot of calories burnt and many things lifted and that is perfectly fine. Sometimes it isn’t about the plan but just turning up.

Today I was DEFINITELY not phoning anything in.

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Once the youngest is home and I’ve paid off my IOU for 10 games of Mariokart, I’ll be all over the Writing site with the first stage of redesign. After that, I’ll stop talking about it here and do all the chatting over there, so this place can go back to regularly scheduled wibbling. I may just have enough time for a cuppa before I have to leave…

Pull Me In

Today was the day for the second part of my new Exercise Plan: it was Pull day, but before I got to that? There was Cardio. BOY, was there Cardio. It looked really simple on my Phone: a bit on the Cross Trainer, then some running/walking. Except I wasn’t ready for what I ended up having to do: the first part of the exercise genuinely pushed me to a standstill, and normally that would mean a longer rest and no more cardio. Not today, and the running was the most painful and difficult thing I’ve done since I started this whole journey in May. At the end of 20 minutes I was in tears, and physically could not do any more. I was 800 metres short of my target.

I have never worked this hard at exercise in my entire life.

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The weights were a blur, I’ll have to admit, I’m still stuck in the moment when I realised there was nothing left in my legs and I needed to find 800 meters from somewhere. I’ll admit this to my Trainer, of course, but I did it, both sessions, with pretty much everything I was asked to do.Β It’s a massive step forward from where I was this time last year, and that’s as much about having the ability to push through fear as it has about pain. The music I’ve picked as my new Treadmill accompaniment had a lot to do with it as well: I imagine myself singing it, in my head, and it helps me keep energy and enthusiasm for the work I’m doing. In fact, the louder the song in my mind, the more passion leaks out into the work.

It really does work, too.

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The next part of this plan of course is to see if my exercise plus judicious eating will really equal weight loss. I’m hoping to at least see something on Monday, but accept it’s just as likely I’ll see exactly where I am with more muscle mass. I won’t know until I get on the scales on Monday, but I’m going to be virtuously good until then. No fry up tomorrow, and certainly a session on the Treadmill at some point on Sunday, even if it’s only an extended session of walking. I have the bit between my teeth now.

I have so fucking got this.