Yesterday was supposed to be a day of rest – where I reconnected with my inner geek. He’s been abused of late and I’ve not been feeding him the usual steady diet of video games or TV shows.
The plan was simply to stay in and just ‘bloke out‘ but honestly when it came down to it I found this really hard to do. The things that used to give me pleasure (or at least occupied my time) don’t seem so important to me any more, and I’m looking upon them with disinterest.
I haven’t felt like playing any of my games consoles at all lately, or watching a box set (apart from a sudden and inexplicable addiction to Downton Abbey about two months ago.)
Eventually, after faffing about, reading for a while and then convincing my dad on iMessage to buy a slow cooker (so that he too could make simple and healthy hot meals once a day) I felt like sitting indoors was inappropriate. I needed to go for a walk.
I was of the opinion that I should practice what I preach and I’d been advising my dad to do exactly the same thing.
Yesterday was life-drainingly hot for a stroll mind you and I found that a couple of laps of St Nics was all I had in me. With the walk from where I parked (further away than usual) and the movement elsewhere that day I finished with three and a half miles on my activity log.
This raised the weekly total to around 35.5 miles (57km), taking me well inside virtual France. I also had it pointed out to me by a friend that I wasn’t actually that far off from walking across the channel AND back (as the shortest crossing is 21 miles.).
I’m still not 100% convinced that Apple watch is recording real world walking however – as its counting every move I make rather than just every walk I go on. It tacks on a lot of stuff I wouldn’t otherwise have added up.
I suppose that this is a good thing though – as it shows how more active I’ve become as a whole and it’s no surprise to me that it’s also telling me every day I have an achievement for consecutively filling my ‘move’ ring. This currently stands at 13 days in a row – something that would never have happened 3-4 months ago.
Yesterday was also the day that I started washing and folding all my 8x shirts and my largest jeans to go to charity or be disposed of. They’re simply too big now, and I can fit into ALL OF MY 7x SHIRTS.
I’m keeping the most ridiculously sized jeans and shirt in my collection however, just for comparison at a later date. The urge to burn them in the garden is huge but I’m resisting.
Anyway – it’s Saturday morning and my usual Slimming World ritual is on the horizon. I need to get ready and take a walk down the road to weigh in. I’m hoping that this week I get my five stone certificate!
Back in a bit.
(Showers, trims, scrubs, moisturises and adds factor 50 – then heads off to the hateful little red infant school chairs)
To be honest (it’s the unwritten theme of my blog after all) I feel a little disappointed with myself.
I’m probably going to sound ungrateful – especially given my award – but I worked really really hard this week and I really wanted my 5 stone award.
As always staying to group was the absolute right thing to do. Not only did I get to talk to all the guys there (who I’ve noticed are becoming friends rather than just people at slimming world) but the issue of ‘exercise often = inches lost not pounds’ came up during Angie’s talk – and made me feel a bit better.
For once though I actually think the whole ‘muscle weighs more than fat’ response to not losing lots of weight may be true – as even though I didn’t loose a massive amount my shirts now fit. They didn’t last week.
That in itself is evidence of progress.
I am often not so good at feeling happy with my own successes, yet feel genuinely impressed and pleased with other people’s progress. Their battles often occupy my thoughts more than my own and I genuinely worry if I see people looking down or if they seem to be struggling.
I wonder why I can’t so easily turn that level of concern and care inward?
Sometimes the only emotions I feel about myself are rooted in disdain. On the plus side I can now see these downward spirals of self destructive thoughts developing and I’ve gotten better at swinging them around to positive moods (writing my blog really helps in this respect) but some days it seems more comfortable to wallow in the feeling that I’m a failure – despite all of the recent evidence to the contrary.
It’s something that requires further thought that’s for sure. I’m definitely an emotional work in progress. Some days are better than others.
SW today had a couple of visiting members from other groups – who both seemed very nice indeed. I took the time to talk to one of them after the meeting and it was a lovely unexpected chat about life in general.
After I left I got to thinking about the random people I’ve met while I’ve been exploring this week. I wouldn’t have talked to any of them if I hadn’t been out and about – and that would have been a real shame.
It never ceases to amaze me how nice people can be when you talk openly and frankly about something normally considered intensely personal.
The dark feelings people struggle with from time to time are common to many of us for so many different reasons. When we bottle them up and don’t talk about them we deny not only ourselves the chance to heal and grow, but someone else the chance to know that whatever they go through in life, they don’t do it on their own.
Someone else has been there. Someone else understands.
Still in a reflective mood I elected to walk around Leamington, and as my leg was hurting drove to the outskirts and parked up so I could walk a mile or so into town.
I didn’t feel 100% from the moment I started and then rather annoyingly I felt my right calf muscle pull as I reached the bottom of the high street. I hobbled to a nearby bench, cursing under my breath.
It’s at moments like this when I get frustrated and annoyed with myself for no good reason. I can’t help it when I hurt something.
It just happens.
While I was angrily thinking about this a man came and stood in front of me. I thought he wanted to talk so I took off my headphones and looked at him – but instead he was staring just above my head, reading something.
After he left I turned and looked up. I hadn’t noticed but I’d been sitting under a statue of queen Victoria. A lady with a reputation for resolve and steadfastness. Much like Margaret Thatcher many years later this lady would not be moved.
Either you could say that not even the Germans and their bomb managed to knock her over – or you could say that given enough effort anything can be moved. Even a massive marble plinth, one inch.
It’s that one inch though isn’t it? That first step that just proves something can be done when previously you might have thought it couldn’t. After that it’s no longer the impossible. It’s just an inch, and you know with the same effort and motivation applied again and again you can move it another and another, and another after that.
As I sit with a coffee sheltering from the torrential rain outside my calf hurts and I still feel a bit betrayed by my body.
But I’m trying not to.
Internet – I choose to move another inch, and keep moving another inch until I get where I want to be.
Even if it hurts.