Bang Bang

At the end of my first round of Blaze last night,  brain wanted to go home. Fortunately, only my PT (who runs this Thursday class) picked up on the issue. Everybody else thought I had an off night. I cried for a bit in the car afterwards, again in bed. It didn’t help, not did it make me feel any better. It happened, it’s done, and there is nothing sitting here that can be dome to improve the situation. Anxiety can only managed, not eliminated. Once upon a time I would have run away.

That’s not happening any time soon.

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Somebody yesterday introduced me to the concept of Callahan’s Law, and it makes perfect sense: from the spike of anxiety comes a final understanding, that joy is forged from my own pain. Before I wasn’t physically or mentally capable of doing the transformation: even last night, in the depths of exhaustion, stuff got done, things were completed and real, tenable progress made. The bad session was needed to enlighten and move forward: lessons have already been learnt.

Today we’ll be back on the bike, because it transpires my legs are now where the most work needs to be done.

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Ideally, my paper doll colour bars need to match that of my right arm: weight on hips and lower stomach is included in my legs ‘colour’ and that is where the majority of excess fat now resides. It means carrying on the ‘something every day’ mentality that was going to be kick-started with power-walking, but cycling is just as effective. Taking the Fitbit off left wrist and placing it at the bottom of cycling shorts reproduces the movement required to count as steps. Strava does the rest.

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This will be the benchmark week for effort, showing what factors contribute to those scores in purple and red. I can cycle for longer and score lower, if the amount of effort placed in maintaining RPM (spin speed) and Watts (effort in each spin) is not high. The harder it is to pedal, the more Watts are burnt, if there’s sufficient understanding of the principle here. Wednesday’s ride therefore, where there was more effort but less time, scores higher. Ideally, that ought to be the benchmark on high energy days.

Today there won’t be any weights because two days of Blaze means the top half of my body’s knackered. We’ll see, when I get on a bike later (probably at lunchtime) how much is left in the legs. If it’s a 9 today, that’s as productive as a 15 or a 25. Right now, there’s no contest, just the need to start eating away at the shortfall. Oh, and there’s a good chance I’ll fuel with dirty sugar before it begins.

Sometimes, you’re allowed to cheat.

I Go to Sleep

I just had a kip on the sofa. It means I’ve managed eight hours of sleep for the first time since the weekend and is a reminder that if I want to get better at exercise, there has to be more rest.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired before in my life.

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The problem is that this isn’t just physical: yesterday was a day of getting my brain around the two writing projects I want to get finished. I realised just how awful my work was back before I believed in myself and what was possible. Then I finally lost my temper with a group of toxic people who I will no longer allow to hold back my progress when it comes to doing what matters. Now they are all on time? I can start to focus on what matters, which tomorrow means a day of self-care and pampering. I have skin products and am going to take care of hands and feet as well as body and brain.

Then I hope to finish week one of the Hard Bastard Exercise Regime on a high.

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Nobody said this would be easy, and it hasn’t been, and there have been some stutters on the way to becoming more consistent. However, progress is undoubtedly forward.

I hope tonight’s bike ride will be a distinct improvement on yesterday’s.

Night Boat to Cairo

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That sleep looks a lot worse than it was: the break at nearly 3am was because both kids were making the most of Half Term freedom, and I can’t really get the hump at this. Then I needed the loo at 5am, and my right arm is going to sleep thanks (I suspect) to the increase in upper body work being thrust upon it. It’s a hard life, but when I begin to get stressed comes the reminder that a) I have a bed to sleep in and b) I part own the house it is inside and everything else fades into background noise.

A very good friend who I had sort of assumed was lost to my past appeared on the doorstep yesterday lunchtime as a reminder that actually, you can just forget the bad stuff and carry on as if nothing happened. Of everybody I know she was always the kindest and most generous of people anyway, so maybe that’s the take away from all of this. The people who aren’t there to screw you over or don’t get what you really are will be patient, understanding, and should be rewarded with respect in kind. Therefore I have offered to go assist her in a project she’s involved in. I think that’s the least I can do.

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This is a reminder therefore that sometimes, stuff just gets better without you having to do anything about it. That’s not the way to live your life, however: just hoping other people will appear at the relevant moments is hugely selfish. Therefore the lesson to be learnt going forward is to not be the person who always takes and to ensure that giving always exceeds. That’s a good way to think on the last day of my 50th year. There has been immeasurable progress, and although some of it might not have been great, the overriding majority has been.

That’s a good foundation to build on going forward.