Just About Standing...

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am still standing. After one of the most horrible days on Monday, where I cried and cried through the whole day, I went to bed and slept. I actually slept well, which surprised me somewhat, but there you go. Tuesday started with a few sniffles and then I put on my Big Girl Pants and went forth to work. I had a few rough moments, but breathed through them.

I don't understand people who live on their own without a pet. Why would you do that to yourself? I know some people work erratic hours or travel away a lot of the time, but to come home to a cold, dark house without a little face happy to see you at the door...that must be loneliness of the stone cold soul variety. 

I am sitting with my grief. I did have a look at the RSPCA site at cats...but all the ones I saw were black and too close in temperament to Solitaire. If I get another cat so soon, they will end up being constantly compared to her and that will be forever a poor second. The vets have organised her cremation, I would like her ashes home for a couple of weeks before I think about getting another companion. 

It seems in my vulnerable moments I suffer from The Stupid. 

I signed up for doing a half marathon in November with the runners at work. I seriously doubt my sanity sometimes. Dave is concerned. Given I haven't run a step since October, he's right to be concerned. I'm scratching my head here. I honestly don't know where my head was at. 

But I signed up, I've got 42 weeks to train. Now all I need to do is put in the miles. 

We went for a 10 mile bike ride on Friday. I enjoyed the return journey more than the first leg. It'd been a few months since I'd been out on my Shiny Bike and my confidence had dipped and so had my Road Craft; but I did it. Coming back, we went off road. My word, I love going off road. It was muddy and bumpy and I had this mad grin for the whole time. 

I misjudged the weather and didn't wear thick enough layers. I knew I'd be okay while I was going...and I was. It was just when we got home, the cold seeped out of my thighs for hours after. Even after a very hot shower. The next day, I dragged Dave off to buy the proper gear. Happily, my new cycling leggings also have padding on the backside. My butt is still sore. We're going to have to experiment with saddle angles to improve my posture as I ride and I may even try one of Dave's saddles to see if that helps. 

Exercising regularly again has been good for me. I still have a lot of ground to catch up on, but one thing is for sure, it is good for me to go back to my lazy ways. I twanged something in my neck on Friday. Normally that would mean a £40.00 visit to see my osteopath. I've pretty much shaken it today and it bloody hurt Friday evening; I had to sleep very carefully. A couple of years ago, I was popping Ibuprofen like a junkie because my lower back hurt so much when I sat down for any length of time. I do have the occasional twinge and my posture still has a lot of room for improvement, but I haven't needed to resort to the drugs for my back for a long time. 

I'm still surprised that I now have a bike of my own and that I would even think of running...it's a far cry from my old attitude of "I'm horizontal and comfy, leave me alone." I wish my fitness would improve more quickly. For all my hard work, I'm still not very fit at all. If I had been doing it for the outcome, I'd have packed up ages ago. Too much like bloody hard work, if you ask me. I'm doing it because it makes me feel good. Simple as that really. My only goal is to do the workouts. Somehow or another I'm going to have to squeeze in the running. One thing I have noticed is that by mixing things up, it makes it more fun and it pushes improvements in sideways...when I do a bike ride, my lifting improves. By increasing my weights, my cardio improves. So, it's all good. 

In Memoriam: The Cat

Regular readers of this blog, will know her as the Cat. To me she was: Bloody Animal, Little One, Solly and Solitaire. 

She was Boy's birthday present. After 2 years of upheaval after my separation and divorce, we were finally settled enough to have a pet. She was supposed to be Boy's. Stupid human. We were hers. 

We went and chose her from the surviving litter of 3. A dog had got in and killed her mum and other siblings. She remained a nervous little thing with a horrendous habit of peeing by the front door. Especially, if I hung a door curtain to keep the cold out. I tried all kinds of remedies to break that habit. It was only once we'd moved back here to the flat (and I didn't bother with the door curtain) that she stopped peeing regularly there. 

As a kitten she was a mental little thing. As an adult, she had the sweetest temperament. When we lived here in the Flat before, I'd throw the door open in the summer and she would go out and about. When I had to shut the door to go out, or it was time for bed, she would come running. She didn't like to be shut out. At the House, with the cat flap, she would come in and out as she pleased. Still she preferred company. When I smoked she would always come out and keep me company, though she was less inclined if the weather was diabolical, she would still huddle under the umbrella with me.

The Cat hated to be picked up. She would tolerate it for a few heartbeats and then the front feet would come out and she would push until she was released. That didn't prevent her from being affectionate. She'd never come and sit on my lap, but she would curl up next to me on the sofa, or at my feet on the bottom of my bed. Afternoon nap time she'd lie in between my legs as long as I was there and give me the evils when I'd get up.

She loved to play. Her games became more sedate as she gracefully aged, but there was still mischief there. She liked to bat things off tables, much in the same way a baby will throw a toy out of a pushchair, and she would wait with supposed indifference until it was replaced. Then it would be batted off again. Pens, coins, batteries. 

She also had a thing about water. No glass of water was safe...I was never fully convinced that glasses of squash were off limits either. As a kitten she'd play with her water until the kitchen was flooded. I took to putting her water in a jug in the bath. At night, I'd wake to hear the sound of the plastic reverberating against the bath as she played.

A small cat, she had a thing about heights. She needed to be higher off the ground. Therefore, stools, tables, bookcases were all her favoured vantage points. Box files on tables were also acceptable and at a push a single 80 gsm piece of paper on the floor would do. When we moved to the House 5 years ago, she wasn't so much of a keen jumper. I only really know of one occasion when she jumped the fence and left the garden and I know that only through Boy who had to retrieve her from behind the neighbour's shed. 

Last summer, I noticed she was even less inclined to jump and she struggled to get onto furniture in the same energetic way. She was 14 going on 15 and I figured she was entitled to slow down. 

In my heart of hearts, I knew last summer our time together was coming to an end. I knew I could take her to the vets and get her checked out. But it would mean a car journey that she hated with a passion and the vets, which stressed her out to the extent she would hide for days after. Instead, I bought collapsable stools that I placed where she liked to jump up: next to our sofas, next to the bath and at the foot of my bed. I bought her a new catnip toy mouse that she squeaked around the front room. I gave her more and more treats to encourage her to eat.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed she kept trying to go to the loo on the carpet. Nothing was coming out. Then her distress was more clear. I packed her off to the vets to be told she was vastly underweight and dehydrated. They kept her in for blood tests and stuck her on a drip. It was an awful weekend. When the second round of blood tests came back with hyper-thyroidism, I thought we had a reprieve. I was forced to consider our options and I knew I wouldn't put her through any treatment. 

In the last fortnight, she and I had a battle twice a day, to get her to take a little pink pill. Bless her, she instantly forgave the indignity, even if she began to develop a time sense and started to try to disappear at pill time. Her appetite returned and she ate with much gusto.

On Friday morning, I woke to the sound of her being sick. Yakking up a furball I thought. Except there was no fur. I had to work. I took her food away and didn't give her the pill, but asked Boy to do it later on. Work was an absolute blast. I swanned in full of triumph and a couple of gins. Dave and I were going to drive Boy back to university on Saturday and despite that, I was in total party mode.

Until I saw she had continued to be sick. And she was sick where she was. 

I rang the vets and pestered the receptionist until I was given an emergency appointment there and then. 

Despite her improved appetite she hadn't gained any weight in the two weeks. The vet couldn't hear her heartbeat on one side of her body. She was too fragile to sedate to X-ray  Yes, the vomiting could be stopped. It could be caused by the medication. There were diets that could potentially work. She had just lost too much weight in too short a time. Her fur hid the lack of bulk. I cried through our entire consultation, the Cat tucked firmly against me. It was the only place she felt safe. She fought with the vet to get back to me and in the end, she was examined as I held her. 

We had 15 years together. She was our sense of home. She was my companion through sorrow and joy. We have so many memories fun, frustrating, hilarious of her. She trained us so well.

Solitaire slipped away, very gently in my arms.

Still Rambling

Still too early damn it

As you can see, there's some improvement. The days of doing bugger-all are beginning to work. But my attention span is still all over the place, so I'm falling back on lazy blogging  with bullet points.

• Dave made the mistake. He told me he saw a purple lava lamp. I needed it. Yes, this is exactly all what is wrong in society today. I needed it. I had to have it. It went on my credit card. I don't care. I LOVE IT! It's mine...
• It now sits next to my printer, behind my laptop 
• It takes a while for the wax to warm up and then it makes lovely shapes in the liquid
• I gave my beloved a torc wrench for Christmas, he gave me a heart rate and fitness monitor (purple). We are both ecstatic with our gifts. Needless to say, I know it won't be long before every nut and bolt on our bikes will be tightened up...and apparently, I have a [good] fitness level
• I'm starting to move again. Only after Dave complained of a sore throat and thick head for a week, it occurred to me that perhaps another bug was contributing to my general malaise
• Work has been a veritable cornucopia of germs, bugs and things to make you go bleugh
• I must get more anti-bac gel to give my immune system a break. I'm fed up of feeling ill
• Boy's back in town. It's a lot more strange having him back, than I anticipated. Though I hasten to add, it is good to see him
• I realised we don't talk much when we're alone together, we just kind of hang out
• I wonder if he thinks I'm boring and I don't do much. I certainly haven't done much over the break
• I've been drinking a lot of tea over the break. It makes me feel warm and cosy inside
• My man bought me a tea pot to match my kitchen and it has a removable metal basket inside for loose tea. You see why I'm so partial to him? It matches my kitchen
• The Boxing Day sale madness has passed me by. I have not participated in the feeding frenzy that is seasonal bargain hunting. Apart from the purple lava lamp (did I mention it was purple), I've been unmoved to venture into the city
• When we did amble into the city so I could purchase the lava lamp (purple), I was the only person in a frenzy. However, for the first time in years there were masses of shoppers who were actually carrying bags
• I feel your confusion
• In recent years, the city has been busy at this time of year. Gentleman's Walk, the main thoroughfare of the retail heart of Norwich, has been packed. But people were looking, not buying. Their arms were swinging
• Not so this year. People had bags and bags. This is good news for our local economy. These four festive weeks are when our retailers take 80% of their money
• Apart from one Amazon purchase to go abroad, once again I shopped local and independent. I was thinking of stretching my definition to John Lewis (which is a co-operative, but a large one), and in the end I didn't need to
• I did go into a local shop and ask them to get me an electrical item. I was unimpressed when they invited me to go to John Lewis as they could not match their price to order in this bit of kit. I told them it didn't matter. I wanted to give them my money. They declined
• Today will be the last totally lazy, bone idle day of rest. From tomorrow, I will start increasing my activity levels and start bringing my sleeping patterns back to normal i.e. not going to sleep at 1 am, getting up at 9-10-11 am
• I am so behind in my personal admin I'm looking at my colon. If it doesn't get done this week, the tax man is going to be demanding my lava lamp
• Even though I had exactly the Christmas I wanted and needed, I still had The Sad. I miss my dad and I'm homesick. My family back home and I have missed each other communication-wise and in a way I'm relieved. The way I feel right now, I could just hop on a plane and head out there now
• It's a dangerous feeling. 

It's purple

Jammie Day, Day 1 of Festive Season Time Off

I didn't think I'd make it. I really didn't. It was like crawling across a dessert of broken glass. I'm exhausted. 2013 has been bloody hard work. 

There really isn't a polite way of saying I look as rough as a badger's arse

But I'm here. I am taking a proper, long break over the Festive Season. I don't go back until the 6th of January. I'm aware that there's a pile of work waiting for me when I do get back, but that's fine. I want to start 2014, rested and energised. Well, okay. That's what I want, I know I won't necessarily feel like it. And that's okay. 

I promised myself 2 days of pyjamas. Two days of not leaving the house. Two days of not doing anything I don't want to do. I've got a pile of potential reading that's going to take me at least two weeks. I'm not doing stress over this break. I don't care if it's Christmas. I'm opting out of anything drama-related and woe betide anyone who attempts to bring it to my doorstep. I'm feeling very protective of myself.

More coffee, Dear Gods, please - More coffee!

The blogging habit has slipped somewhat with the extra hours at work and the end of the year exhaustion. I'd very much like to get back to it. It feels like I've lost touch with too many good friends in the blogosphere, especially those who avoid Facebook like the plague. Facebook is the lazy person's way of keeping in touch - which is why I like it so much!

Boy and I have planned a totally decadent Christmas Day. We will go shopping on the 24th, buy up a whole load of ridiculous party munchies and on the 25th, we'll done pjs cook, watch DVDs, play Xbox games. I will be indulging in naughtiness consumption. Now Boy is of legal age, he's dry as Methuselah's grave. Dave is invited to join us, only if he gets into his own jammies. 

So, this is the first day of my festive break and I was wide awake at 6.45. Go figure. I managed to doze until 8 o'clock and then it got too much. I needed coffee. After I publish this, I'll be tackling another workout. If I'm going to be eating my bodyweight in nibbles and treats, I sure as hell need to keep my metabolism going otherwise I'm going to be really pissed off with myself in January.

It'll be okay, honest.

What are your plans? Are you all set for the Season's frivolities?

Drunk and in Charge of a Keyboard

I'm sure this isn't a good idea. One I will regret and perhaps delete when sobriety hits. But since when has that ever stopped me? Never. I'm going to tell you a little about why I'm such a fundamental optimist. Why I feel compelled to help the talented people around (and yes, there are many). This isn't a "OMG, Poor me" post. I've only had a gin and tonic, I'm not quite there enough to let the Self-Pity Gnome in.

I'm a bit of an outsider in my Life. 

During my childhood, I didn't look like my family. I was adopted. I didn't know my racial origins. I was scrawny, short-sighted and had teeth and a smile only a mother could love. I didn't know what I wanted to do when I grew up. I was socially awkward, unathletic and preferred the company of animals. I liked books, but was rubbish at school. I liked people and had a weird kind of confidence with them, but didn't really connect with anyone for any length of time. All in all, I was a bit of a mess. 

I wanted to be like my brother. He always knew what he wanted to do. I respected that so much. That passion to exclude all other things, to just know what path needed to be trod. That was just so cool.

I though this passion could be found in relationships with the opposite sex. But no, I chose badly; it all went horribly wrong and I've since learnt to love very carefully. It can be a bit of a compromise, but I love as much as I feel safe to, so I'm not hurt by rejection too much.

Writing as my preferred form of communication has been with me since I nicked my father's Brother typewriter at 13. It was only at 33 that I began to learn how to construct a story someone might actually want to read from start to finish. Ten years later, I haven't really written anything apart from my random blogging and a novella.

I have commitment issues.

That's why I'm so utterly inspired by talented people who follow through their passions with actions. I am blessed with friends both online and IRL who are writers, artists, poets, musicians, photographers and entrepreneurs, I just want to help. That's part of the reason why I did the NLP, I thought it would enable me to help people who wanted to do something different.

Simple really.

Too see people who are prepared to walk to the ends of the earth to make their dreams come true, who do that bit more different, that's really something. 

Getting Back on Several Horses

A couple of days after I wrote the previous blog post I was flattened by a bug. I ended up in bed for 3 days which then wrecked my back and then the bug headed into my sinuses for another week. Honestly, if I would have been put down if I were a horse. I managed one day off sick and crawled into work regardless. I don't do stiff-upper lip normally, I lean towards the pathetic-and-give-me-sympathy-and-more-tea. But frankly, I'm busy. I was too busy to whinge. So I didn't. 

This week has been the first time I've felt almost human. I'm running on about 85%, which is a relief. I've also agreed that I will be taking a long break over the Festive Period. I am exhausted and desperate for my jammies, Pink Fluffy Dressing Gown and lots of Facebook Statuses about coffee. 

Every year in January, my work packs up and heads to an appropriate auditorium to host their Vision Day. It's a chance to reflect about the previous year and to set goals and the theme for the new year. I end up doing one of my favourite jobs which is researching quotes and information that will go into the various presentations. 

Doing this has put me into a reflective frame of mind. I haven't been this introspective for some time. I've been thinking about all the changes that have happened this year. All of the different facets of my life have moved around, adjusted their positions or just metamorphosed into something I wouldn't have recognised this time last year.

This has been a year of changing relationships. Some have drifted, some have dissolved completely, some have changed shape and solidified into new forms. It's been an interesting process. 

I moved. A highly traumatic, but necessary event. I also took steps to sort out my finances. I've done another 'quick fix', but I've shaved my outgoings and I'm still grappling with my bad spending habits. 

On a similar note, October marked my third anniversary at my place work. Hard to believe I've actually been in the same place for 3 years. It's the longest time I've ever been in one place of employment. My past record is 18 months. I have a very low boredom threshold. The great thing about my role is that it's constantly changing, I get to police my own hours and I get to be myself. Both Insight and myself have managed to come up with a working compromise which means I am contented there and I give them value for money. If you'd have told me 4 years ago I'd be this happy to work within financial services, I'd have laughed at you. 

Who knew eh?

Not me.

This December marks my first anniversary of being nicotine free. It's a year since I stopped. I went cold turkey, with minimal NLP intervention and since stopping I can think of only a few times when I really was tempted and the temptation didn't last very long at all. I'm quite pleased about that. I've not even had a puff. My lungs and bank manager are even more pleased about it. It's nice not waking up to a phlegmic cough and wheezing.

I also started exercising regularly. Or I should say, I made a commitment not to give up exercising. I continue to be determined not to stop working at improving my fitness. Yes, I'd still like to lose a stone (14 lbs to you over the water) but it's more akin to wanting to win the lottery and buying a ticket once every 6 months. I'm more interested in becoming stronger, not thinner. 

I saw a comment on a blog post of the fitness site I follow and it particularly resonated with me. The young woman who commented, was recently getting over a serious illness, her recovery has been over a couple of years (it was that serious). She attributed her recovery to the fact that she was a semi-professional dancer and had to maintain the level of fitness necessary to perform at that physically demanding activity. When she got flattened by her illness (which sounded on par with meningitis) she thinks it would have been so much worse, had she not been that fit. She finished off by saying she needed to get fitter, not to be well, but in order to be ill. 

I want to be more robust, physically. I feel strong emotionally, but rather lacking physically. Exercise is my way of dealing with this. Rather than adopting an exercise plan, I've adopted a commitment. I'm not going to stop getting stronger. I may lapse, need a week off or as recently, 3 weeks off, but I'm returning to program. The lapses are rests and time for recovery, not for giving up.

Can't talk about exercise, without talking about diet. I'm still making my own lunches. I've reduced the amount of processed foods I eat. I've increased my vegetable and fruit intake to the point where I'm eating 9 or 10 a day. My wok is my new best friend. Even if I fry my veggies in butter and add dollops of creme fraiche. I still have a little of what I fancy e.g. a biscuit and a slice of cake today. It's a guilt free indulgence.

2013 hasn't been a kind year, but it's been a year where lots of great things have happened.  I'm hoping 2014 will continue this trend. I'm going to work on being stronger - physically, emotionally and financially (and to blog more regularly). 

How's 2013 been for you? Did you make resolutions? Did you keep them? 

Do you fancy a cheerleader? I'm totally up for cheerleading you, if you've got some goal you'd like to achieve in 2014. I'll encourage you, you encourage me. That's the way it'll work. We can hang out IRL, on blogs or on social media. Let's do it! You could want motivation for exercise, eating healthily or for upping your career game. I don't mind. I'm totally selfish about my motivation for setting up an Inspiration Group. I want to hang out with YES people.  People who want to test their limits and try new shit out. I want to inspire and be inspired. Go on. Let's do it.

Beware the Snake Oil Salesman

...if you're thinking about getting fit and healthy.

You think that there's conflicting "facts" about food? Hah! Wait till you try exercise! There's all kinds of sneaky ways to part you from your cash, without it ever making much of a difference to your fitness or general health.

To be fair, part of it is caused by consumers' apathy and fear.

As I meander around the internet and try to get to the bottom of how to move my bottom better, so it's not sagging towards the floor, I realised that PT Barnum was right. There really is one born every minute.

The sad fact of the matter is exercise is hard. It's called a workout because you have to "work". There's no magic pill, no magic fruit discovered by a botanist in the Amazon you can sprinkle on your porridge, or electrodes that you can attach to your wobbly tummy - they don't work. There's no quick fix. No fit in 4 weeks. No fit in 4 months, even.

The trouble is, people want to believe this magic quick fix works, and when it doesn't, they give up.

Fact of the matter is: want to stop smoking, put the cigarette out and don't put another in your mouth; want to lose weight, make better food choices - not so much, more fruit and veg; want to get fit...be fit for life. Put on the shoes and work. 

Harsh, but perhaps it's time we talked straight. Yes, I know there are thousands of reasons for that other slice of chocolate cake, that last, next last fag, the pint...well, it was a hard day and it's genetic. The reason I know this, is because I've said them all.

The changes to my behaviour came about because I really wanted to be a non-smoker. I really wanted to be under 9 stone. And I really wanted to be able to say YES, when Dave asked if I wanted to go out on a bike ride.

You know me. I'm the laziest so and so this side of the Atlantic. My favourite position is horizontal. Preferably with a bowl of crisps and a glass of naughtiness within arm's reach. I'm not a morning person. I've never met a calorie I didn't like. A glass of something naughty? Why yes, I'd love another.

I made a choice. I chose now to do things that feel good. 

Not comfort-good, or stress-good, or lonely-good. But proper good.

And it seems that exercise helps me feel good. Even when I can barely walk down stairs because of the squats. Arrgh!

I've said this before, I'll repeat myself to save you having to look up my words of wisdom. You don't need to spend a huge amount of money to be fit. By all means, do get a personal trainer and 2 chefs to prepare your nutritious and delicious meals. If you want to and can afford it - go for it. I've met some incredibly committed exercisers who've got PTs and swear by (at?) them. You just don't need to. 

I can't abide gyms. I hate them. Perhaps it's because I've only walked into the ones with the women putting on their make-up before they workout. The one filled with the really skinny, ecstatic fitness buffs. You know, white smiles, orange skin? I'm told that there are proper gyms out there, full of sweaty, blobby people focused on what they're doing and aren't at all interested in what everyone else is doing in there. 

Until I find the sweaty gym, I'll do my workouts at home. I'm not blessed with cash. I spent on good shoes and when I could, I bought my gear from M&S during their sale. I have enough space in my front room. Just. I started out with a selection of DVDs, but I stick to Davina McColl's simply because she and her personal trainers are fun to workout with. I started on her 3x30 minute workouts and this morning, I've upped the pace. I'm now on her Superbody it's 40 minutes long with extra sessions if you've got the time and energy. It's also got a low impact version of all the exercises. 

It has taken me 3 months to get to this point. I'm taking it slow. I have a dodgy lower back and a knee that bitches at me. I've been in an abusive relationship, I don't need someone in my face, shouting at me, even if they say it's for my own good. Dave is worried that I do it on my own. He thinks I should get a workout buddy to push me to do more. I will eventually, but at the moment, I'm enjoying sweating on my own. If I'm tired, emotionally or physically, I rest. My aim is to do a workout every weekday morning. However, if I need to insert a rest day or a rest week, so be it. Because in the long run it won't matter. I do this because it feels good. When it doesn't feel good, I'll stop.

Nerd Fitness is a website I really love. I know, I'll stop going on about it. I love it because they say women should train like men. Strength training won't build bulky muscles. Lifting weights is good for bone density, stamina and is better for weight-loss than hours of cardio. It means there's no need to take notice of the scales, strength training leads to increased muscle density which is heavier than fat. You've got to eat properly in order to strength train. None of this carrot juice 3 times a day nonsense. They also advocate heavier weights and lower reps. Frankly, that's heaven to me. Who wants to count 50 bloody bicep curls with 1 kg? Bored now.

I've got the urge to build up my strength and do it properly - in a sweaty gym with a punch bag. I want to start landing my punches. I want to get a barbell and learn how to deadlift. I've realised that there just isn't the time to do everything I want to do. I keep looking at my running shoes and my Shiny Bike. I have friends who I want to go swimming with. There just isn't the time to fit all of the fitness things in! Arrgh!

Perhaps it's just a question of going with the flow? As it's all winter-bleak-bleugh, I could stay in and do my DVDs, build up my fitness and strength and then in the summer, switch to outdoor-focused stuff. That sounds like fun to me.

Did I really write that out loud? 

Who, the bloody hell have I become? 

I want to do it. In my very gut I want to do it. And no, that's not this morning's smoothie acting up.

Do I expect to increase my life-expectancy? Will I get a body like Davina's? Do I expect that by loading up on these happy-exercise hormones that I will never experience lows again?

Hell no. 

I'm doing it now, because it feels good. I'm sure the evangelical stage will exit stage right as the habit beds in and go back to blogging about coffee, perfume and how much I hate the festive season. Don't even be thinking that I'm buff and fit and toned and bouncy. I'm struggling with my 1.5kg weights. I've got a long, long way to go...

Weights and Measures

As you know, since April this year I've been steadily increasing my physical activity. I've wanted to exercise regularly for many years now. I used to start and stop. This has been the longest time I've ever stuck with the programme.

It started because I wanted to be fitter so I could cycle with Dave. I like workout DVDs and so I dusted them off and started from the beginning. Seven months later, I'm still committed to being leaner, stronger and fitter.  

I also started to think about what I ate.

If you do a search on fitness and health, you will come up with a mind-boggling number of websites and resources. All saying they have the answer (the only answer) to good health and fitness. Some of them come with science, some come with "common sense", some with a double dose of snake oil. 

I can't say that with all my research that I'm any better informed. I wish I was. But I'm not. In fact, I'm probably more confused now, than I was when I started. Trust me when I say, that's a good thing - it shows I'm paying attention.

What gets put in your mouth, ends up going round your system and affects how you feel, your energy levels and where it ends up hanging out. Makes sense, doesn't it? If I were a computer programmer, I'd be tempted to say 'garbage in, garbage out.'

So, what constitutes a 'good' diet? Let's crack this can of worms open.

Over the summer I tried the 5:2 diet. Intermittent fasting lead to me losing 6lb. I ate 500 calories twice a week on non-consecutive days. It wasn't particularly hard going until the weather turned cool. I run cold anyway, with the lack of calories in my diet, I couldn't cope with it. I stopped doing it. In the September when I stopped, I was just under 9 stone. 

I've read a lot since then. There's a massive three-way fight going on between fat vs sugar vs carbs, all with fairly compelling arguments. I'm still no wiser.

Fat - it makes you fat. That seems to be the perceived wisdom of most medicine. Cut out the fat, it won't clog your arteries. How's your cholesterol? Bit high? Hello statins. Go low fat.

Except I really, really love fat. Butter, double cream, crackling. Yum yum yum. Bring it on. Low fat stuff, tastes diabolical. It's nasty. And furthermore, none of the food scientists I've met eat margarine. They all have butter.

Sugar - empty calories. Rots your teeth. Makes you fat. Makes things taste good. We have evolved to like sweet things, because sweet things are likely to be calorie rich which is just what a hunter/gatherer needs to survive. I do have a sweet tooth, but not for chocolate or sweeties. 

Sugar hides in plain sight in low-fat foods and other processed foods. Don't believe me? Check out the difference when you're next shopping. 

Carbs - since the Atkins diet caught on early in the naughties, carbs are the enemy. Eating too many carbs causes insulin sensitivity and immense weight-gain. I've seen people on the Atkins lose a helluva lot of weight, though I certainly didn't want to get up close and personal, because their breath smelt like decomposing dog feaces. It turns out that Atkins long-term is a very bad idea for one's health and wellbeing. Nasty side effects include kidney stones and increased incidents of osteoporosis.

There's also the traditional calorie counting. I've given it a go before I did intermittent fasting. I can tell you, it sucks arse.

Firstly, because it's easier to go ready-prepared, because the calories are all laid out. You cook a home made meal, that's you with scales and a calculator. 

Secondly, all calories are not created equal and the healthy option does not always equal low calorie. 

Oh yes, I also looked at the Low GI Diet. The premise of this diet ranks food according to their Glycemic Index. This refers to the scale against which a food is broken down by the body, into glucose. It limits carbs and the way they are cooked. I liked it fairly well, up until I got to the low-fat mantra. And as far as I am concerned, mashed potatoes is Food of the Gods. I don't care what anyone else says.

After all of that, what do I believe is the best diet to go on?

I call it the Balanced Diet. I eat a little of what I fancy, when I fancy it. I am eating a heck of a lot more fruit and veg. I stop eating when I'm full. I've gone from 0-2 portions a day to around about 9 or 10 portions of fruit and veg.

I am also being more mindful of processed foods. I do still have ready prepared foods, but they now make up a much smaller percentage of what I eat. I enjoy cooking and like to know what ingredients are going into my dinner. I figure if I can't pronounce it, I shouldn't be eating it.

Water is now my drink of choice. There are still squashes in the house, and I still have a weakness for Elderflower cordial. But I go days without drinking them.

How do I feel? I feel okay. 

Interestingly, I haven't gained or lost any more weight, I'm still around about 8 stone 12 ounces. But I have dropped a dress size.

My goal is to continue to be mindful about what I eat. I will continue to cut down on sugar and processed foods, but I'm also changing the numbers I focus on. I do still like scales, but my attention is now on how well my clothes fit me. Tomorrow, I'm going to measure up properly. Tomorrow, I'm going to take my training up a level.

Too Much of a Good Thing...

It started in the summer when I was considering colours for The Flat. The front room has two fairly neutral colours: Dusted Damson and Malt Chocolate. When I was looking for new curtains, the only ones I could endure were the purple faux silk ones. I thought nothing of it. And then I needed to buy a bin for my study area and that was purple.

In the Devil's marketplace, otherwise known as Dunelm Mill I then had to purchase a couple of blankies, one of which absconded to Lincoln with Boy. Yes, they were purple too. I then bought new kitchen bits and pieces...you won't get any good odds if you like to gamble...yep, you guess it. Purple.

Then there's my lunch bag, microwavable lunch pot (for hot food) and sports bottle (that I use for my morning gritty). 

So, I'm in Sainsbury's on Sunday and they've got a sale on - 25% off all clothing. There was this fabulous jumper. 

It was only when I got out the car and headed into the office building that I realised I'd gone too far. My nails are sparkly purple and my pendant is amethyst. 

*sigh*

I have no idea why I'm into purple right now. It makes no sense to me. But it seems suddenly I'm surrounded by purple things I have to buy.

Perhaps it's the Jenny Jones poem?

Perhaps it's the Universe trying to tell me something?

Purple is a royal colour. It's the colour associated with the Crown Chakra and is all about meditation, peace, intellect and imagination. It's the colour associated with spiritual fulfilment and peace. It symbolises magic and mystery.

It'll be interesting to see what occurs in the next few months as to whether my Life's Path travels down the road suggested. Or not.

Who knows? I don't. I just know I really like it at the moment and want to indulge.

Shiny Steed

A couple of weeks ago, we went out on the bikes. It was less than a successful trip. My confidence was at an all time low, I kept freaking out about the traffic. I was ready to say 'Do you know what, I've given this a good go and I'm done.' I kept on thinking about the unhappy experience and I was really down on myself. 

Then, last weekend Dave wanted to check out a new bike shop. So in we go and I try one on for size. It was great, but it pushed the limits of my budget. I still wasn't ready to commit to buying a bike. If I came off the bike and never went on it again, it would be a helluva lot of money to waste.

In the meantime, my exercise regime is going very well indeed. I splashed out on a food processor with a blender attachment and that's been really good fun. I've been making smoothies to take into work as breakfast/snack and they've been really tasty. I have also been whizzing up veggies in the evenings. No, not juicing. I don't have a juicer and I don't have the space in my kitchen for one. 

Raspberry and Mango Smoothie

I found this great website called Nerd Fitness. It's a bit frenetic and geeky, but I love it. I've picked up some great tips from them and I just like the idea of a fitness website that doesn't advocate going to the gym and/or spending lots of money. It's a website for people who are trying to get fit while they try and have a life. 

One of the things they keep going on about is to keep trying, to dare to fail. The only way I was going to improve and learn the road craft is by going out and doing the time in the saddle. Being hard on myself wasn't a good time and I wasn't going to learn anything that way.

The more I kept thinking about it, the more I realised that part of the issue I was having was the fact that it's not my bike. It's Dave's bike. Bless him, he set things up as best he could for me, but at the end of the day: it's a mountain bike, for a bloke of his dimensions. But, the more time I spent on a bike that wasn't quite right for me, the less I would enjoy it. It could become a chicken and egg situation. On Friday, we set out to go bike shopping.

I fully expected to go back to go and get the Forme we'd looked at the week before. Dave was fairly determined to put me on a Specialized Vita. If you've bothered to click the links, you'll notice we were looking at hybrid bikes - good on the road and can cope with a rough farm track without too much stress. 

Dave decided we'd first check out a little bike shop in a quiet Norwich suburb called Streetlife Cycles. As you can tell, he is a great believer in making informed decisions. He'd already called in and thought he'd found the one for me. In we went. The guy serving us pulled out the bike for me to sit on. We went through the usual spiel I've been perfecting for the last few months: yes, I know I should be on tippy-toes, my confidence is not what it should be yet; yes, I really need to have something with good shocks for my back, even if I only ever go out on the road. I sat on the Specialized Vita for a few minutes trying to see how I felt about it, when the guy announced "You don't look comfortable on there. That's not the bike for you. I think I've got the perfect bike right here."

With that he gets me off the bike, wheels this other one out and before I know it, he's adjusted the seat and I'm on it. 

When I heard his announcement I thought 'great stuff - hard sell'. 

I could not have been more mistaken. I didn't want to get off the bike at all. I couldn't tell you what it was, what the differences between the height, width or set made. All I can tell you is - it was love at first sight.

I trust that feeling implicitly. Instant comfort and confidence, once you've experienced them, you know you're onto a good thing.

And the price? It was £150 cheaper than the Vita. It's a Specialized Globe Work 01. It's a basic, functional piece of equipment that just screams BIKE and does what it says on the tin. I love it so much.

We picked it up yesterday morning and I rode it from the shop, along a cycle path called Marriott's Way from Norwich to Drayton and then on a few quiet roads and a rough farm track to Dave's house at Horsford. I learnt some very important things.

1.  I don't like going first. Dave likes to ride behind me so he can keep the cars from getting too close. It also means he can advise on gears and my biking form. However, I over-anticipate issues and have panic-attacks when I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. If I follow his lead, I learn from his example. And yes, I still need to work on my gears. I tend to be in much lower gears than I should, simply because I like to feel the resistance as I pedal. I know, I'll get over it.

2.  I really like going off-road. We were nearly home and crossed a road and had to go on a rough farm track. Dave shot off in front and picked his way along and I followed. It was great. I loved it! I did as he suggested and kept my fingers near my brakes, hovered over the saddle and let the bike find it's way along. When we finally got to the end of the track, I was buzzing! I would have happily done it again. Give that was the second time Dave had done the track that day, you can understand why he was less than enthusiastic at my suggestion.

Last night, there was talk of us going out this morning for a quick blast round the country roads...that lasted until I realised how much my butt hurt. As well as my confidence, it seems I also have to build up the muscles in my butt!

Isn't she pretty? All black and silver with a splash of red (spacer from Dave)

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Moroccan(ish) Veggie Stew

Leftovers!

Since I started watching Jamie Oliver's Money Saving Meals, I really have been getting ideas above my station. I've got it into my head that I can experiment with all kinds of things. This month I'm economically challenged, but I haven't wanted that to stop my social life. So rather than go to the pub and drink tap water in the corner, I've been inviting people round.

Yesterday, I opened my cupboards and thought - veggie stew...with dumplings. Perfect for a lovely autumn evening. I looked up the recipe for the dumplings and of course, I had to muck about with it. It seems I am incapable of following instructions. Like that's news to you, Ladies and Gentlemen. There was some interest expressed last night on Facebook, so people here it is:

Moroccan(ish) Veggie Stew with Dumplings

You will need:

Spices:
1 tsp paprika (heaped)
1 tsp turmeric (heaped)
1 tsp ground coriander (heaped)
celery salt
garlic
ginger
quarter of preserved lemon*
chilli oil**

Veggies:
1 red onion
1 red pepper
2 carrots
2 small sweet potatoes
1 tin green lentils
1 tin haricot beans
handful apricots
1 carton chopped tomatoes
tomato paste

Dumplings:
250g self-raising flour
125g butter
1 tsp dried mustard
pinch of salt
1 handful grated parmesan
cold water

I chopped everything up, drained the tinned pulses. I got a heavy casserole dish and sweated the onion, pepper and carrots until soft, I then threw in the dried spices to toast for a bit and then added some water to stop it sticking to the pan. In went the chopped tomatoes and everything else including the garlic, ginger and preserved lemon. I brought it to the boil, and topped with boiling water so the veggies were covered. It was then left to simmer uncovered, while I did the dumplings.

Easey peasey. Measure your ingredients. Jamie suggests grating cold butter into the flour. Ain't nobody got time for that. I used a fork to mix flour, butter and dried mustard together until it looked like fine breadcrumbs, added in the cheese and then dribbled iced water in until the mixture formed a dough. I squished it around for a bit and then made little balls of dough. I did not play with it. Once it was done, I stirred the stew made sure there was enough liquid in it (the dumplings are thirsty), popped the little balls onto the top with some space for them to spread out and then put the lid on and left the stew on simmer for about 35 minutes.

I served in bowls with garlic bread and it was damned tasty.

* I had some homemade preserved lemon and I've found you don't need very much at all. I know you can get them ready made, but they are expensive.

** Chilli oil was also homemade. I filled a clean jar with dried bird's eye chillies, covered them with oil and left them to soak for a few weeks. I just dip a teaspoon in every now and then to warm up a dish. 

The garlic and ginger are frozen. Another tip from Jamie. You can get frozen herbs in little plastic trays from Sainsbury's. Just squeeze out however much you want: a cube = a clove of garlic or a tsp of fresh ginger. I don't know whether there's the equivalent in other supermarkets. If you aren't like me, use fresh. I just got fed up of desiccated ginger and squidgy garlic in the bottom of my fridge.

I used tinned pulses that were in my cupboard. They are quick and easy. I have no patience anymore for boiling the hell out of things any more. Been there, done that.

If you do have a go, let me know what you think. 

Getting Adventurous...

...in my old age. It's the only thing I can put down to my new found focus on food. Now, don't get me wrong, I've always enjoyed food. But more in the eating, rather than the preparation thereof. Dinner parties round mine are always a bit haphazard. Guests arriving in the middle of potato peeling, wine being poured, guests doing dishes... It can't have been that awful, people still turn up again when invited and no one's been hospitalised with food poisoning; yet. 

But recently, I've been flexing my culinary muscles. You may remember these at the beginning of this year? Whilst, we were perhaps a touch over enthusiastic and made too many, I've been enjoying popping the odd slice into a dish or two. I'm told they'll be good for awhile yet. 

Last week, I had a dear friend over for dinner. I sorted out the mains and then scratched my head for the dessert. The next minute I'm throwing the fruit in my bowl into a pan with a good slosh of sherry and then suddenly, there's a crumble! 

WTF?! Me? Made a dessert? From scratch!

I know. Who is this person in the Pink Fluffy Dressing Gown? I'm not sure I know her anymore. 

I'm a bit perplexed at this. But I'm going with it. It feels quite fun really. The cooking part of it, if I'm honest, is made a lot easier by my new shiny toy - my dishwasher. This was a housewarming present by Dave (you see why I adore him so?). It's fantastic. I love it. It's like a magical cupboard - you putting dirty stuff in it and Hey Presto! they're clean! I knew how much I hated doing the dishes, but man, I never realised how much that hatred informed my cooking!

So, a couple of weeks ago I was in a large chain supermarket. It's a place I prefer not to go. I had to go for work purposes. While I was there, I noticed purple potatoes. Now, I like red-skinned potatoes like Desiree, best of all. I love the flavour and texture to the point where I don't peel said spuds. Granted, some of that is down to laziness. But given most of the nutrition in a spud is under the skin and I don't have enough roughage in my diet, I think there is a bit of sense there.

Anyway,  yesterday, I worked up the courage to give these bad boys a go. It turns out they are indeed purple all the way through. With purple juice. I made wedges. Roasting them was interesting, it's hard to tell by just looking at them when dark purple goes crispy and isn't burning. To be honest, the eating of them wasn't that much to write home about. For all their purpleness, they tasted like normal spuds, but with the wrong colour. 

I think they just mess with your head. They're purple, but don't taste purple. Or taste more...anything. It's just like a boring white potato...but purple. Dave poked the couple I left and refused to even try them. When I said that to him, he made an excellent point: we are programmed not to eat blue and purple food. Historically, they are a sign of foods that have become inedible or are poisonous.

I like blue berries and they're purple, so it's not that I can't or won't eat purple. Those spuds just didn't do it for me. Well, I tried them. But I won't be repeating the exercise any time soon. 

Over Sharing and Cheerleading

Tonight's Activities

I sit here, hot and sweaty from my workout. I've just done a Davina McCall 30 minute Cardio Box in my new workout gear and rather fun new shoes. I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting back to the point before I had the time off for the move and everything. This is a very happy feeling indeed.

The exercising I believe has made a huge difference to my energy levels. I'm doing stuff now as soon as I think about them and without having to psyche myself up for the task. I'm now looking at all the things I'd like to do exercise-wise in the coming weeks and what I'd like for myself long-term. 

It's a small change in my lifestyle that has had a huge impact. I think it's because striving for fitness and seeing the small gains I've made has made me realise that I can achieve other things too. It's a generalisation - a term from NLP that describes a pattern of learning. Once you've learnt to open one kind of door, you've got a pretty good idea how to open others and it then becomes the task to seeing how each door is different from the original. Also, exercising is tough and requires determination and motivation. Doing this has reminded me about physical and emotional resilience.

How often when confronted with a situation have I said "oh, but this is hard." 

Yeah, it has been hard. But you know what? So what. I'd rather be sweating through the difficult stuff (and yes, moaning about it) and do it, than sit on my butt doing nothing (and moaning about it even more). It's not that it gets any easier, I'm just able to do a little bit more each time. And that little bit more has felt like a huge triumph over my own laziness, fear and negativity.

The best part about this process is the support I've been given from the people around me. Dave has been an absolute star. He's never laughed when I said I wanted to do something, in fact, he's worked to find a way I can do it, even if it's meant adjusting my expectations. I've made some new friends and strengthened old friendships, both IRL and online. And it has made such a difference to me. The cheerleading totally over-rides the little internal voice being all sarky and disparaging about my very small triumphs. I see other people's accomplishments and I celebrate with them, even if I'm not even a fifth of their level.

I've seen people around me who've started, made real progress and stopped. They've run out of motivation, real life has got in the way, they just can't be arsed. They talk the good talk: they'll get back to it tomorrow, or next week or next month. They'll cut down the booze, give up the fags, stop eating crisps and cake - but not today.

It took me about a year to stop smoking. I started and stopped several times. But I didn't give up. December will be a year I will be nicotine free. This time next year, I don't want to be looking at my cool new shoes, still pristine, thinking 'next week'. I don't want that to be me. I may not ever have a body like Davina, but I will be fitter than I was 6 months ago and fitter than I was 6 weeks ago and I won't stop trying.

So, thank you Ladies and Gentlemen for keeping me company, cheering me on and taking the piss. I've really appreciated it. 

Roses
xxx

Autumn Equinox - All Change

It is the Autumn Equinox, the second harvest festival and the time when it's clear The Wheel of the Year is turning towards winter. We are on a waning moon that brings endings, darkness and is used to banish unwanted influences, situations and people in spell work.

Yesterday, was my dad's birthday. Particularly poignant given his sister, my aunt, who was such an influence throughout my childhood passed away on Friday. 

Yesterday, I took my son to university.

So if I say the weekend was a bit of a wringer, you'll understand it's not an understatement.

However, it's all good.

At the last minute, I decided to try to book a room for the night in Lincoln. I figured it would take the pressure off and would mean Dave and I wouldn't have to worry so much about the return journey. It was a good plan. Unfortunately, a plan that every other parent dropping their child off also had the foresight to make. In the end I could only find a room in a guest house in the middle of nowhere, or Ragnall as it's otherwise known. 

I insisted we had an early start. Ladies and Gentlemen, you know I am not a morning person. I struggle if there are two 6 o'clocks in one day. Yesterday, there were two 4 o'clocks. We ended up waking up well before time. It meant we were on our way by 7 am. I'm so grateful Dave was with us. He teased and comforted me as needed. He understood and didn't judge. Damn, I'm a lucky woman.

Our journey was interesting to say the least. We had an encounter with the EDL tour bus in the Swaffham McDonalds. Made far more amusing by the fact one of their bright sparks kept pulling the Push door. Yes, we've all done it; but not 5 or 6 times while swearing the door was locked! It's hard to be intimidated by people who have balloon fights and tie said balloons to their minivan.

Boy appreciated the early start when he was pretty much established and unpacked by 1 o'clock. We had lunch together, did the compulsory food shop and then said goodbye. I suspect university life is going to come hard for Boy - he's in a great room - two and a half times the size of his bedroom in the flat, he's sharing with 4 pretty girls and a nice guy, he's pretty much in the middle of Lincoln, on the river and within spitting distance of the university. I hope he enjoys it as much as he can. It's such a hardship! Fingers crossed the course suits and engages him.

Coming back to the Flat this afternoon was hard. I wasn't really an adult until after I had Boy. I was married young, had him, then divorced and, well, never really alone whether I was in a relationship or not. I was a mum. He lived with me. We had an intense relationship. Now he's off. He's flown the nest. Exactly as it needs to be. I would be troubled if he felt he couldn't leave home now. I am so proud of him. 

I kept on saying to him 'I'm a phone call away', 'I can be with you in hours if you need' and 'you can come home at any time.' Thankfully, he understood I wasn't saying that because I doubted his ability to cope. On the contrary, I know he'll be totally fine. More than fine. 

This is all new territory for me. I'm an adult by myself now. Life is going to be what I make of it, without the limitations of my responsibilities to him. It's exciting, scary and wonderful all at once. I am excited, scared and in awe of the Life before me. It's all good. Even if my heart hurts so.