I was driving home today – and going over a conversation I’d just had with someone in my head. I tend to do this a lot when I’ve met a person for the first time. Had I made a good impression? Did they like me? Did I say anything stupid?
As I mulled over the memory of the chat I realised that my mind was slowly drifting away from the content of the conversation and onto to the physical sensation of driving. I’m not behind the wheel very much lately, and I haven’t driven in the dark on the motorway for a while.
Car brake lights can sometimes be hypnotic, and there’s a real pleasure to be found (when you’re not in a rush and in a quiet car) watching them whilst enjoying the warmth of the air coming from the vents on a cold day.
It’s also nice to be in a comfortable seat with plenty of legroom and good back support – which it occurred to me that back in April wasn’t the case. I didn’t fit quite so well into this particular chariot back then – or any other.
It was then I realised that while I was thinking about what I’d said, I’d completely missed what I did.
I’d been in a room with chairs that had fixed arms, and without thinking I’d just sat in one and relaxed. While I was there I’d chatted, and not felt out of place or uncomfortable in the least – but instead just got on with the topic at hand and didn’t notice what I’d done.
When I was working in an office in years past and had to attend meetings in conference rooms it was a different story. My colleagues may not have noticed (although they probably did but were too kind to point it out) that I often arrived first so I could pick a bigger chair before I was left without a choice.
It was often very embarrassing to do so – but sometimes I even pushed my desk chair all the way from my PC to a meeting room if I knew it was going to be a long chat. That way I wouldn’t be in pain after an hour of having metal pressing into my thighs in a seat with fixed arms.
Sitting in this kind of chair is something a lot of people take for granted – but not me.
It’s a big thing.
Or at least it used to be, and as I type I realise that now it’s slowly become something I don’t worry about any more. In the past when I went somewhere unfamiliar I was continually scanning for furniture that would or wouldn’t fit me – but today I didn’t.
This fear of appearing out of place used to always be there in the background, and now it isn’t.
How weird is that? A little chunk of my personality has gone – and been replaced by a newer, more confident bit sitting (literally and metaphorically) in its place.
If that’s not a ‘non-scale victory’ then I don’t know what is.
In other news I’ve been assessing how January stood up with regards to exercise when compared to previous months.
Overall pretty well it seems.
In some ways I don’t like this direct comparison because it makes all the previous months look (quite honestly) like I did virtually nothing – which I can assure you wasn’t the case.
What’s changed here (on the 8th Jan) is the type and intensity of exercise I’m doing.
Whereas beforehand I was monitoring distance walked almost to the exclusion of everything else (I had to start somewhere after all) now I’m focusing heavily on stamina and cardio fitness as well as my walking. Wherever possible I choose longer routes with hills and inclines and if they don’t raise my heart rate enough then I’m going home and making up the difference on my exercise bike.
No if’s or but’s. It has to be done. That’s my task for the day. Every day.
It’s paying dividends. In December this meant that my active calories burned (this is a number calculated in Apple Watch which is aside from and then added to the daily total of calories burned) was 32,078 kcal.
That’s around 1034 kcal a day.
In January it was 42,562 kcal – or an average of 1372 kcal a day. Over 32% more than December – despite starting this push a week into the month.
It’s this, in combination with healthy eating that’s enabling me to be free of diabetic medication and to continue losing weight. I can’t ever lose sight of this. Without this effort and focus I’m a medicated slob.
I refuse to ever be that man again.
So – just like my last post (regarding my mildly obsessive nature here) I become fixated on measurable and tangible results like these. The nagging obsession they produce in turn function to continually drive me.
In pursuit of my goals since April I have walked one thousand and twenty two miles.
To do this I put one foot in front of the other two million, three hundred and eighty eight thousand, eight hundred and thirty six times.
So internet – bring on the chairs with arms.
If I can’t fit in them today I’ll fit in them tomorrow. If I can’t do it tomorrow I’ll do it the day after that – or the day after that, and so on and so on until the damn chair fits.