Where to from here?

Tonight, I’ve crawled out from under my duvet to bare my heart, soul, and cellulite (metaphorically speaking).

I need help. 

I have an email from WordPress in my inbox telling me that my domain name is coming up for renewal and, do I want to renew it?
I don’t know.
Do I?
I have until mid-Jan to decide.

I haven’t posted on here in a long time.  In over two months, which is ridiculous.
Sure, I’ve thought about it.  But never actually wrote anything.  Because it’s felt like I haven’t actually done anything.

This reminder has prompted me to at least put those thoughts into writing.  Even if I don’t continue with the blog.  I’ve always found some benefit in committing my thoughts to writing – regardless of whether I even read them again.

Today, 16 December 2014 – only 9 days out from Christmas – I am the biggest I’ve been in over two years.  And I hate it.  

This morning, I stepped on the scales at 77kg.
My heaviest weight (on record) was 82kg, though… I did just stop checking the scales at that point.

The last time I was this weight I was genuinely unhappy with my lot.  I was living with a guy who was suffocating and manipulative – a truly unhealthy relationship that I did not see for what it was until the end, and even then, not for a long time after.

Now, I’m seeing an awesome guy who – while frustrating at times (because, who isn’t?) – is encouraging and supportive.   The kind of guy you wanna take home because you know he’ll get Mum and Dad’s seal of approval.

It couldn’t be more different now, but sometimes there’s a quiet, nagging voice in the back of my head that asks if this is the same thing all over again.

The rational me tell the nagging voice to sod off, but the thing about the sub-conscious is that it lingers.  So I eat.  Lots.

The real problem is my relationship with food – and the gym.

I’ve always joked that it would be too easy for me to become an alcoholic.  A terrible ‘joke’ because it’s a disease that shouldn’t be laughed at.  But it was more a recognition that I have this addictive streak that quickly overwhelms me.

The reality is, I’m addicted to sugar.  My body is existing on cr*p food because that is what I shovel into it day in and day out.  It’s fuel, but it isn’t food.  It’s definitely not the right fuel for the job.

Tonight I chowed through an entire packet of mallowpuffs.  You know, the packets that should take a family a couple of days to get through – I ate one in an hour.  Because I finished work and that’s all my body wanted to do.  I found myself on auto-pilot to the supermarket biscuit aisle when I should have been walking to the gym.  I had all my gear there with me – I’d packed it all especially.  But I just toted it into the supermarket with me, and straight back home so I could get my sugar fix.

This happens all the time.

And, I know I can cut out the sugar – I’ve done it before! But right now, in this moment, the concept is incomprehensible.  It doesn’t feel like that was me.  I feel so removed from that.  The positivity in the other posts on this blog – I don’t remember those feelings.  I know I wrote them.  But I don’t remember the feelings that would serve as some nice, positive reinforcement right about now.

My abs hurt all the time.  Not from the gym, but from the constant bloating.

Logically, I know it’s my diet (and lack of exercise!) but there’s a mental brick wall between the ‘knowing’ and the ‘doing’.  I suspect this is how smokers feel when they’re bombarded with anti-smoking advertising… you know its wrong, but you just can’t stop.

It’s been a loooooong time since I’ve gone to the gym in any consistent pattern.  It used to be that I’d get there at least a couple of times, because I had personal training once a week and just going once was ‘stupid’.

My trainer dumped me.  
Via SMS.
The day we were meant to be having our session.
After rescheduling on me 3 times in as many days the week before.

I suspect I have a bit of a sub-conscious “eff-ewe” reaction going on there, which doesn’t help.

So where does that leave me now?
Honestly, I don’t know.
What can I do?
I know what I should do.
I know that I have done it before.
But, how do I get the motivation back?  How do I find my mojo?
Because, at the moment, I just think about my legs in my gym pants and I want to go cry in bed with a block of chocolate and bottle of ginger beer.

One of the Best Decisions I Ever Made

Signing up for regular personal training sessions was one of the best decisions I have ever made.  It’s right up there with deciding to take my health into my own hands.  Of course, one wouldn’t have happened without the other.

We are our decisions.  The good ones, and the bad.

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Together, they all add up – hopefully, with the good ones outnumbering the bad.

But when you make a really good one – and follow through with it – you get a bucketload of sweet life bonus points that torpedoes you toward your ultimate goal.

To be healthy.
To be fit.

To take charge of my own life, and make it what I want, rather than let things just happen to me.

Personal training has been so empowering.
The weight and measurement changes are a happy bonus.

I’m using free weights on my own now – something that terrified me to do with the trainer when I started.  I’m learning to read my body, understand correct form, and have the confidence in myself to know when I can (and can’t) do something.

I have core strength.  Long have I ignored my core.
Ab work?  What’s the point when I have a hefty 10kg to budge?  
A strong core helps everything work better.  Those free weights… can’t handle those babies without decent core work, too.

And I’m a giant sweaty sweat monster at the end of every session now.  Every session.
Previously, nada.  Nothing.  Vilch.

Sweaty, and wobbly legged, I leave every session feeling like I’ve done a job well done.
Like I’m another step closer to my ultimate goal.
Like I’m on top of the world.

These training sessions give me confidence, endorphins, and a reason to be proud of myself.
Worth every penny.

I’d even go as far as to say priceless.

Can’t Put a Price on Health

ID-100202593This evening I took the first step in securing regular personal training sessions at my gym.

I’m looking to focus on weight training, because I feel like cardio and interval training is something I can keep up with on my own.

But when it comes to weights… I think the last bootcamp ruined me.  I want more weights training in my routine, but I honestly don’t feel safe doing free weights on my own.  I’ve never had individualised feedback on my form – only snippets here and there, and that’s to be expected with group training.

Where I was once happy doing machine weights, they now bore the heck out of me.

I’m hoping to get a regular routine locked in soon, with a plan to work on in my other sessions.

Any pointers on what I should be asking of a new trainer?

I Don’t Run With Headphones

ID-100207800Deep breath.  Keep calm.  It’s true;

The more I run, the more I hate running with headphones.

Why?  I’m not entirely sure.  Well, no.  That’s not true.  But I can’t put my finger on any one specific reason.

Running without music – without buds in my ears – is oddly liberating.

When running, the wind picks up and noise sort of… disappears.  Not forcing music into my ears means that I’m running almost in silence.  My heart beat being the only constant sound.  The sound of my feet hitting the ground grabs my attention when the patterns change.

Running without music has taught me a lot about how I run.

Now, I can pay attention to what I’m doing.  My posture.  My breathing.  My pacing.  How I feel as I push myself harder.  Identifying when I need to slow down, or go easy on a hill.

Running with music is peaceful. 

There’s no pressure to keep up with the beat.  To force your mindset to fit with the songs in the playlist.

Bonus points for:

  • No headphones slapping against your neck, or getting caught in your pony tail!
  • No pinching arm-band holding up your phone/MP3 player.
  • You can hear cars when they’re pulling up behind you (survival bonus, ding-ding-ding!)

Running without music has taught me my limits.

Have you tried running without music?  Did it gel for you?
Or are you a fan of having your music with you, and it keeps you amped as you run?

A Bloody Long Way To Go

I went to bed last night excited for my first ‘long run‘ in the lead up to my goal: half-marathon at the end of February.

So you can imagine my anger, stress disappointment at waking up with a head cold worse than I’ve had in years. I feel like I’m constantly underwater.

Walking from my bedroom to the bathroom to blow my nose was a marathon task. I was struggling to breathe as soon as my feet swung off the bed. Dizzy, the hallway spun around me as I made the two-step mission to the other doorway. Once in the bathroom, I made the mistake if looking in the mirror…
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There was to be no running today.

15 hours on, I still feel like rubbish. Hopefully it’ll pass so I can enjoy some countryside runs in the Wairarapa soon.

I can’t help but feel that my body’s doing this so I have one more excuse not to train. Like I’ve done this to myself, somehow.

Mum thinks it’s because my body’s finally finding time to relax, since I know I have the next three weeks off work. As much as I want to believe her, I don’t know if I can.

Training is not going well. I’m rarely out on the road in my trainers. And when I am out, I can barely run ten minutes without my lungs burning to all hell. My personal best a few weeks back was a fluke. Complete and utter fluke. I haven’t been able to get anywhere like it since.

I’m not saying I’m giving up, necessarily. Just that there is still a long way to go.