The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl

The Bike Shed

We have successfully wedged our worldly possessions into Cow Poo Manor. There's no garage this time so I'm not quite sure how this pantry/bike shed hybrid is going to work out.

I've had Valentino the Bike for three years now and I reckon I still have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times we've been out together. The cost per ride is still about £20! Whoops.

I really want to love cycling, so Gareth and I have something in common... but I never think yay, cycling! the way I instantly thought yay, kickboxing! I'm going to have to work a little harder at this one. I did enjoy the ride from the old house to the new, and didn't run out of gears coming up the little hill... so that's a good start, isn't it?

Meanwhile BT stuffed up yesterday so we're not getting the phone on until next week, and I can't sort out the internet until that's installed. We're stuck in the Dark Ages but it gives me more time to enjoy the view from the window. Aside from the Pile o' Poo there are pheasants, robins and sparrows galore... even a freakin' deer lopes past now and then. It is impossible to hold on to gloom with nature poncing around in your face like that. Life is good.

Tuesday Morning Radio

Don't touch that dial! There will be non-pimping posts soon - such as New Years Goals, and how yesterday I got back on a bike for the first time in fourteen months and it sucked and I ran out of gears halfway up a hill and couldn't remember which lever would make the wheels go so I just pressed all of them at once and the chain flew off and I got into a huff and told Gareth to just bloody carry on without me and stormed off home.

But first I have to do a few things, namely twenty radio interviews on Tuesday morning with random stations in random American towns (and two in Ontario!). If you're up early and fancy tuning in, click the link below for the schedule!

Thank you again for your comments and emails, it really means a lot :)

Goals Goals Goals 2008

Righto. 2008 Goals! It's been a little weird this year because losing weight is no longer the mission. So where do we go from here?

Considerations

1. I am done bloody done with obsessing about weight, eating and exercise.
   HOWEVER...
2. My flesh really needs to stay within the confines of my clothes, due to the financial/social implications of bursting out of them.
   AND...
3. Given my long and colourful relationship with food, a certain watchfulness is required!

Because it never ends. There's never a moment when you lunge across the finish line and get a medal and a marching band plays a jaunty tune. But hopefully staying in my jeans won't have to be a dull and dirty task. I struggled in the latter half of 2007 when life got ultra-stressful, but I'm slowly getting it together again. For the first time in living memory I got through Christmas without gaining weight. It was odd but pleasant to start the new year without the usual bloated panic.

So my goals this year revolve around exercise. When I do the exercise, I feel happy in my skin. If I feel happy in my skin, I don't feel the desperate need to get lost in the biscuit tin. The goals incorporate a few things that really float my boat:

1. Cardio with Pals - cardio basically bores the shit out of me so involving friends makes it a social appointment instead of a chore
   
2. Physical and Mental Challenge - I feel wracked with Calvinist guilt if I rest on my laurels. I have to push on to new frontiers, especially frontiers that fill me with fear and dread... otherwise a piano will fall on my head for being idle and complacent!
   
3. Structure and Purpose - I've never felt so healthy and positive as during my 5K training back in 2005. I liked the schedule, the challenge, the inching towards a goal. I ate healthily because it made me run better, not because I was freaking over the scales. I want that feeling back again!

So my exercise goals are:

1. Keep on kickboxing - social and violent, how can you go wrong? I am determined to nail the spin kick without feeling the need to vomit.
   
2. Lift weights twice a week - CONSISTENCY, dammit! I was so stop-start last year that my overall strength didn't increase much. This year shall be different!
   
3. Stretchy stuff once a week - in previous years I always vowed to do it twice or more but it never happened. Time to be realistic. So one yoga or pilates DVD or a class if feeling adventurous.

And the big ones... fun fun fun...

4. Train for and complete the Edinburgh Moonwalk - a marathon-distance charity walk in June. Basically you start at midnight and pace 26.2 miles through the streets of Edinburgh in your bra (and shorts or trousers, naturally). Over ten thousand lassies doing it all for cancer research! We've got a wee team happening at work and I am dead excited - time for a new challenge. It will be long and tough but I will geek out with the training schedule!
    
5. Do the Sea to Sea cycle route - this is a popular 140 mile jaunt right across the north of England -- from Whitehaven on the Cumbrian coast to Tynemouth on the North Sea coast. Dr G did it last year and had a grand ol time, despite the big bad hill in the middle. I stupidly agreed to give it a crack in 2008. To be honest, I'm not sure about it at all. It's a truly laughable idea right now. I'll have some really bloody serious work to do, given my current Absolute Beginner status; the fear of going down hills and inability to pedal up them. Let alone cycling for a few days in a row. Hmmm. We're planning our trip for early September. Hmm hmm hmm. But it's ON THE LIST and out there baby, so I'll give it a red hot go!

American Cycle

Gareth has decided that he prefers to remain an enigma, so I'm afraid it's back to verbose ol' me again!

My gut was sore from laughing at his entry; it took him all of twenty seconds to tap out yet he'd managed to distill seven years of public babbling and a lifetime of lard-related angst.

I'd been feeling self-conscious as it is lately, doing press for the book and sometimes being struck mute mid-interview thinking, What a ridiculous thing, to spend so much time going on about the size of ones arse.

But I'll keep on anyway, because I've been meaning to tell you about what was quite possibly The Greatest Day of My Life. Woohoo!

(Warning: I'm really knackered therefore beware of rambling and excess exclamation!)

You may recall my road cycling debut of mid-October - tears and trembling and brown underpants. It was a crash course of sorts, because the following week we were off to New York and I'd booked us on a cycling tour.

At first it seemed like a crafty way of disposing of Gareth for a few hours so I could do some shopping, but then I decided I wanted in, too. Sure I have no peripheral vision and I cannae hand signal but I've done twenty minutes on a Scottish country road... LET THE MUPPET TAKE MANHATTAN!

We assembled at a bike shop near Union Square – me and Gareth, three chicks from Kansas and a Melbourne lad with wholesome soap star looks. The two tour guides helped us chose a bike. I'd hoped they'd all be pretty pink ones with baskets on the front, but it was a random tangle of scary Sporty Ones. Where was the BELL? How would I cry for help?! My beast had a terrifying 21" frame with a really high crossbar. I called it the Crotch Masher 2000.

There were two guides. They were former couriers, with that lean sculpted-calf appearance that, if a pathetic amateur, might leave you intimidated and tugging at your husband's sleeve, "If you ride off on me, I'll KILL YOU!"

We were told to keep in line behind the front guide and he'd make hand signals telling us when to go or stop or slow down. Nae bother. As we set off I kept my eyes glued to the guide in front and totally blocked out the fact I was in New York otherwise I would have vomited. I couldn't look anywhere but straight ahead and I couldn't change gears because they were twist grip gears and I never knew there was another kind of gear!?

But after five or ten minutes I calmed down. I looked up at a street sign and it said 5th Avenue and I thought Hee hee heeee I'm riding down 5th Avenue! Then a bus whooshed up beside me and I could feel my ribs rattle. The adrenaline kicked in and I spent the next five hours in a state of joy and delirium!

Some highlights:

• Brush with death in the West Village! As we approached an intersection I caught sight of a pet shop with a windowful of tiny yapping dogs. "GARETH, LOOK AT THE DOGS!" I yelled and sailed on towards them, at the same time Gareth yelled, "SHAUNA, LOOK AT THE TRUCK!" Luckily the truck had good brakes and the information is now branded on my brain: Americans drive on the right.
• Bruising my lady parts every time I dismounted gigantic bicycle to take another squinty Holding Camera At Arms Length Shot
  
• Bruising lady parts due to inability to ride in anything other than a straight line therefore barreling through every pothole in the Meatpacking District
• Powering along the Hudson River Greenway - sweet merciful taxi-less bus-less cycle path!
• WALL STREET!
  

• Riding across the Brooklyn Bridge as the sun was setting and laughing in deranged manner, I can't belieeeeeve I'm on the Brooklyn Briiiiiidge on a biiiiike!
• Dismounting on Bridge then looking back to see the skyline lit up and falling in love with New York for the 457th time that week
  
• Zooming past the Supreme Court building and making the DUN DUN! noise from Law and Order
• Weaving in and out of traffic in Chinatown, teeth chattering in terror, completely overwhelmed by all the crazy honking and colours and chickens but loving it!
• Scoffing dumplings and sesame pancakes at a nice hole-in-the-wall type of place
• Riding down a grotty little street that could have been anywhere in the world then looking up to see the Empire State glowing in the distance!

So this happened two months ago and only now can I talk about it without getting teary and/or giggling hysterically. I know people ride bikes in cities all the time; my Amazing Adventures may be your tedious commute. But I had never felt so deliriously happy in all my life...

(even during the last half hour of the tour, when the guide that was supposed to stay at the back of the group drifted forward, leaving me and the Old Lady of Kansas to swear and scream and dither when the lights went amber, as to whether to stop and get left behind or go forth and pedal to our deaths)

... I suppose on some cheesy level it was a bit of a Wow I used to be welded to the couch now look at me moment but more it was so deliciously surreal to see places that you've only known from the telly, while on a bicycle, when you used to ride over sheep poo in Australia. It just makes my mind explode sometimes, life and all its possibilities. Now I wish I could go back to every city I've ever visited and see it again from a two-wheeled perspective.

Good Feeling

So how do you hold on to the Good Feeling? I'm a huge MotoGP fan, and when you see the riders getting interviewed after a race they often talk, in their endearing English As A Second Language way, about their Good Feeling.

"The bike gave me a good feeling today," they'll say if the race went well. And then I snigger, coz I'm sure I'd have a bloody good feeling too, if I was straddling a gigantic vibrating motorcycle! But if things go bad, they will say, "I could not find a good feeling with the bike."

They're talking about the harmony between man and machine. What's this got to do with anything? Well, if you say hypothetically my brain is Valentino Rossi and my body is a motorcycle, then it's clear we're not having our best season. It's that elusive mind/body connection I was talking about last month. I still haven't quite got it back!

The last time I truly felt the Good Feeling was back in Chicago in July. I'd just finished the first round of book edits and was so happy with how it turned out and with the message I'd put across. I felt this lovely peace with everything. It was like there were dozens of those dinky tealight candles, racked along on my ribs, so I was just glowing glowing glowing from within.

But ever since various things... mostly my own sabotaging brain... have chipped away at the ol' confidence a bit. Do not fear, scale-watchers! I've not stacked it back on. It's just that a little black cloud has been loitering like a seagull outside a chip shop.

The other day I went out for a bike ride ON THE ROAD. Analogue bike, that is. I'd never ridden a bicycle on a road before. I grew up on a farm so it was all rattling over gum leaves and sheep shit. After a year of adult bicycle ownership I thought it was time to venture beyond cycle tracks and illegal footpaths, so I got Gareth to take me around the road loop he does a few times a week. I felt a grim determination about the task. I wanted to come back to the blog and report my triumph and be all positive and light and endorphin-ed, like I always do after these new sporty forays... mind and body hooked up again. Instead of clicking New Post and staring at the blank space for an hour.

The ride was bloody terrifying! Especially because I don't have any road sense. I've driven a car once in the past 4.5 years, so I'm rusty on road skills and peripheral vision. Gareth pedalled along behind me on a lazy country road, and yelled out when a car was coming. I would shake my head vigorously in denial, as if that would make them go away! I could barely pedal, my quads were so ridiculously tense.

Somehow we made it to the Big Mother Roundabout with all the buses and trucks hurtling along towards Glasgow. I froze in terror and pulled over, feeling angry tears catch in my throat. It was like that Yoga Incident a couple months ago, where my physical fear and crapness felt like a metaphor for everything else I'd been crap at lately. But after glaring at some trees for ten minutes I got back on, approached the roundabout and made the shakiest hand signal ever and arooooond we went. DUDES, MY HAND WAS OFF THE HANDLEBAR FOR A WHOLE TEN SECONDS. I can't believe it took me a year to get up the nerve to do that. Mwahaha.

Then I pedalled painfully slowly through a wee village that was far busier than should be legal on a Sunday. Why do people insist on not only driving cars , but parking them and getting in and out of them and flapping their big scary doors!? My teeth were chattering with terror, but then I got the giggles at how I was too knackered to pedal any faster to get out of this situation any quicker.

Finally I made another hand signal - this one more of a limp flash of a Hitler salute - and we were back on a country road. Oh my leggggs. They had nothing left to give! I had to get off and walk for the second last hill. Gareth reassured me he didn't make it either earlier in the year, when he'd put on a slight Winter Coat of lard over Christmas, stillI couldn't help feeling annoyed.

But then we got to the last hill, and I recognised it right away. The same "XTREME" hill I was too terrifed to ride down in February; the same hill I failed to pedal up! It looked so hilariously tiny now. I huffed and I puffed but I got to the top, no worries!

We finally got back home after 1hr 20mins - Gareth usually does it in 45mins, the shapely bastard. I curled up on the couch to listen to my muscles sing. The exercise hadn't brought on the Good Feeling; I'll be honest... but I suddenly felt okay about not feeling the Good Feeling.

I've been very negative recently, thinking that I should be cool with all the Big Changes in my life by now. I worried that I'd never shake it and find my way back again. But the highs and lows of that little bike trip made me see where I've been going wrong. It's impossible to see the way forward if you're too busy beating yourself up. It's not a failure of character if you dare to feel a bit lost and incompetent. Sometimes life gets challenging and things are plain uncomfortable for a sustained period. The Good Feeling is harder to come by, but that doesn't mean you'll never find it again! I keep thinking of that dinky little hill that seemed so impossible six months ago, and remember that I've been here before. I'll be back up to fullhorsepowers soon enough. Vrooooooom!

Tenderised

Two stupid minor injuries in the name of health and wellbeing this week. Firstly, I bit into an apple yesterday. Since spatial reasoning has never been my forte the bite was much wider than it needed to be. Instead of sinking into the fruit, that really pointy tooth sank straight into the side of my tongue. Now I've got a centimetre-wide flappy bit of broken tongue, all swollen and painful.

And then tonight we went to the forest for some off-road cycling action and I forgot to wear my padded shorts underneath my trousers. D'oh! After 90 minutes of pelting over rocks and puddles and big fat tree roots, I am feeling rather tender in the lady parts.

The first half hour of these bike rides always seems to suck. My legs just don't work properly and it's too haaard and I just want to go home because I just don't think I can doooo this today. But when it's done and I'm wiping mud off my bike with a handful of grass before loading it back into the car, that's all completely forgotten.

"Sorry I was such a whingy git earlier," I said to Gareth after a recent ride, "It always feels like I'm not going to make it."

"That's alright," he smiled, "I don't listen to you anyway!"

. . .

In other exciting news, I had another culinary first last weekend - a fresh fig!

Somehow figs had passed me by until now. Once as a child I waited in the car feeling completely mortified as a certain member of my family climbed over a fence of a former WWII prison camp site with a plastic bucket, then raided the fig trees in order to feed their homemade fig jam habit. The jam was always a weird browny greeny colour and freaked me out. The fruit itself looked a bit creepy too.

So when my friend served them up for dessert the other day I wrinkled up my nose. Well I wrinkled it up inside my mind, because it would have been rude to wrinkle it for real! But these figs had briefly been in the oven alongside some fresh peaches so they were warm and syrupy. Then they were dolloped with vanilla creme fraiche. PHWOAR! It was difficult not to moan with all that juicy soft but crunchy goodness... I waited nearly 30 years for this? All week long I've been thinking fig fig fig, I gotta get me some more figs.

That is one of the greatest pleasures in life, I reckon. The moment of surprise when you taste something amazing that you've never tasted before. And knowing there's still a million other untasted things out there all shiny and new. Noice.

Bon weekend, lovelies!

The Hills Are Alive

Oh I would kill for a Freddo Frog right now. Has anyone got one handy?

If I was clever with computers I would make a Dietgirl Automatic Blog Entry Generator. I'm smelling a pattern lately:

1. Shauna reluctantly tries a sporty activity
2. Shauna freaks out/swears/whines incessantly during sporty activity
3. In hindsight Shauna begrudgingly admits sporty activity was quite enjoyable

Forgive me for the recurring themes around here; I will be more weight-lossy soon. Please don't run away! I will talk about vegetables or loose skin or bicep curls. Any requests? It's just that our pathetic excuse for a summer is rapidly dwindling so I have to get my fix of the great outdoors before the soul-crushing darkness returns.

(Memo to Antipodeans - I don't want to hear a word about your Spring arriving early. We've had no more than two consecutive non-rainy days in Scotland this "summer" and our SAD is kicking in three months early, so we don't need anyone rubbing it in :P)

CANOE UPDATE!

Last Thursday night I had my second attempt at canoeing, this time a wee pootle along part of the Union Canal. There were three of us so we took it in turns, two in the boat and one cycling alongside. I ended up paddling most of the time as I was the Most Hopeless therefore needed the practice.

I'd never been up close to the Canal before, just caught glimpses from the motorway to Glasgow. It is rather nice and peaceful in places with lovely bridges to go under and this gorgeous aqueduct to go over. I was feeling very serene and happy, but then said Gareth it was my turn to steer. It's all very well sitting pretty in the front but the real skill is controlling the vessel. Dammit.

Steering SUCKS. Especially with my inability to visualise verbal instructions and translate them into actions. Not to mention my Left and Right issues. Basically we just bounced from one side of the canal to the other for half an hour, smashing into reeds and horrible stingy nettles. I did the usual cursing and bitching and then my English fell apart, STINKING BOAT WHY DO YOU GO THE OTHER WAY WHAT I TELL YOU TO GO!?! I just could not wrap my head around the concept of canoe steering at all. In the end I rammed the boat into the wall just short of Broxburn and demanded to be allowed back into the Princess Seat.

Overall though, it was a nice way to spend an extremely rare sunny afternoon.

BIKE UPDATE!

Tonight we dismantled our bikes and chucked them in the car then reassembled them near a wee forest about twenty minutes down the road for my first-ever off road adventure.

I've been very apathetic towards cycling so I surprised myself by having a BLOODY GREAT TIME! I went through mud and sand and ditches and rocks and big fat tree roots! I went up big hills! I went down big hills! In your face, hills!

I was in a constant state of terror and nearly fell off about 27 times so clenched the bike frame between my thighs as though their mighty bulk would act as a third brake and prevent me flying over the handlebars. Afterwards I was utterly knackered and felt like all 206 of my bones had been dislocated but it was fantastic. I finally understand The Thrill of Going Down Hills. I got a killer workout AND fun at the same time. Who knew?

FREDDO FROG UPDATE!

I still don't have one. Suppose I will just go to bed then. Hope you're all well, lovely comrades!

Calorie Flabshaw

When I write on this site I spew it all out straight from the guts and come back later to turn it into proper English. Or sometimes I'll just make Gareth read it and tell me where the mistakes are. I was saying to him the other night how I've been stuck in this musing, reflective mood lately and every time I write something it feels like an annoying internal dialogue, raising more questions than it answers.

"I feel like the fat blog version of Carrie Bradshaw when they did those voiceovers as she wrote her columns on Sex and the City. Except five million times more irritating."

"Except you would be called Calorie Bradshaw," said Gareth. "NO! Calorie FLABshaw. Hee hee!"

I shall try and write more about fat busting proper, but I am really bumbling along lately and feeling quite inept. Not falling in a heap but not making any real progress with fitness or feeling particularly ZINGY with health, you know? I've got masses of work to do and those recent trips got me off my trusty exercise schedule and the meals were a bit sloppy for awhile there.

Gareth and I went out on the bikes the other night, he did his 10 mile loop and I did my wee 7 miler. It was nice to be outside with the fresh air and humans. I'm happy to report that unlike last time we did not finish at the same time! I have improved! I had been sitting back in the house for a whole FIVE MINUTES before he arrived. Whoa, move over Lance Armstrong!

I really need to learn how to take my hands of the bloody handlebars though. I feel so much more relaxed on the bike - I don't grip so hard, but I still can't quite let go.  The air is choked with pollen and small bitey insects at the moment, and the wind was flinging them all straight into my face. But of course I was too chicken to lift my hand to swipe them away. So I just pedalled blindly, gasping and sneezing and swearing and jerking my head at random intervals. Arrgh.

And isn't funny about women and men, and how like, they're different and stuff?

Love and kisses,
Calorie Flabshaw.

How's The Serenity?

For the first time in eleven years, I've just spent an entire week without the internet. Holy nerdypants, Batman! Gareth and I decided to take our sham marriage to the X-TREME and hole up in a log cabin for a week at Strathyre, without internet or digital television to distract us from the empty charade of our lives.

Mwahaha. It was bloody brilliant. Self-catering rules! The cabins are at the foot of Ben Ledi which is in the Loch Lomond & Trossachs National Park, to which people in Scotland will say "duh" and the rest of the world will say "que?", so I don't know why I bombard you with all the details.

Anyway, our digs were approximately twice the size of our flat and looked like this:

And here is a nice view of Ben Ledi from the window. "Ben" is Scotch for "Mountain". Hehe :P Now everybody marvel at how my bike Valentino and Gareth's (unnamed) bike sit nicely OUTSIDE and not in the bloody hallway for us to trip over 27 times a day. That was possibly the highlight of the week for me.

The above was one of the rare moments you could actually see Ben Ledi. Being Scotland and all it was obscured by rain and fog 95% of the time. But the good thing about the rain is eventually the sun comes out and everything is calm and still for lovely reflective moments like this:

So what did we do all week? Lots of walking, lots of writing, lots of eating. Gareth climbed some hills and we went on some bike rides.

There were moments when I just wanted to bloody cry from the sheer joy of being alive. Until now I've only been on the boring cycle path near our flat, but this time there were lochs and birds and tadpoles and waterfalls and twisty paths and mountains. And a big fat slug I accidentally ran over. Sorry mate!

I know I have been harping on this point for years but it never ceases to floor me, how amazing it is to move your body. When I started exercising it was purely to lose weight, punishment for being a big fat useless freak. But now the loathing is finally gone, being active is a way of life and not a chore.

I am still rubbish at hills, in both directions. At one point I was huffing my way uphill when Gareth shouted for me to check out some fantastic rock formation. I thought rather cockily, "I can totally pedal up and look at something way over there at the same time." Alas, no. I ran off the road and fell into a ditch and very nearly rolled down into the loch.

Now I read all the time about you crazy bloggers riding your bicycles all over town so I am kinda embarrassed to write this... but yesterday I took Valentino for my first solo ride. I've had him almost a year now but I've only went for a ride when Gareth suggested it, and only when he came too coz I was scared of the bike spontaneously falling apart.

But yesterday Gareth had set off early to climb a big hill and instead of going back to sleep, I was surprised to find I was really craving a bike ride. Maybe I'm finally getting Two Wheeled FEVER!

I worried my way through about 25 scenarios in which the tyres exploded, blood flowed, limbs maimed, etc etc... but somehow I got out there on the bike at 8.30 on a Sunday morning. I was so surprised I stopped and put my camera on a fence post and took a picture to commemorate the moment. And here it is rather small, because despite all the Great Leaps Forward in self-esteem I still retain some thigh paranoia, and cycling tights certainly don't do me any favours.

And here I am on the way back to our cave. You can see why I refuse to get out of bed for less than 10 pence a day. I'm squinty, pasty and still half-asleep... but full of joie de vivre, I tells ya. And amazement that I put my helmet on the right way.

That'll do for now coz I have many blogs and emails to catch up. Looks like it's been a busy week for everyone, lots of ups and downs amongst us. Hope you're all well and hanging in there. I missed my daily fix of reading about your lives. Long live the geek :)

Made of Stars

Did any Northern Hemispherians catch the lunar eclipse on Saturday night? Gareth and I went down to the beach to watch it. It happened to be our wedding anniversary (two years!), so on paper that just about sounds like the most romantic thing ever. But it was freezing cold we had to stay inside the car and ended up with severe neck cramps from tilting and turning in our seats to try and get a good look at the bloody moon. And then a big cloud came along and hid the whole show.

What we did see was beautiful and incredibly humbling. Normally the moon looks so undefined and distant, but during the eclipse it looked properly three dimensional, like a giant golf ball that you could reach out and grab. I've always loved having a good gawk at the moon; it gives you great perspective. For all our busy lives and crazy dramas and struggles, we're all just wee specks in the universe. Isn't that comforting?

. . .

Yesterday I wanted to throw my bike into the canal. I just had a really shit ride. I've been so full-on with my exercise this week and methinks I'd got a bit over-enthusiastic. My first interval session was intense and totally fried my legs. Then I've been doing some killer weights. I felt like a change so I did Cathe's Slow and Heavy, where you do a 2-down-6-up rep count with the heaviest weights you can manage. The Legs & Shoulders was particularly gruelling, I was shakin' like a shitting dog, to use a favourite phrase of Gareth's.

By Wednesday my legs were knackered but I was scheduled for another round of intervals. I knew I wouldn't make it so thought I'd do a quick easy bike ride to let my legs recover, just the wee 7 mile (11.3 km) loop on the cycle track. Gareth came out with me, but took off into the distance for the 10 mile (16km) route that he does during the week, just a quick blast of a workout when he hasn't time for longer rides.

So. It sucked! There was an innocent-looking breeze but it felt like riding through molasses. Normally I can coast for long stretches but I was pedalling hard the whole time. At the halfway point I had to stop for a drink and a sook.

I was sooo slow on the way home. There were people WALKING faster than I was riding. And I had to stop twice more because my quads felt so bloody weak. I was even yelling at my legs at some point, "Why. Won't. You. MOVE!?".

And the final insult was when I limped over the finish line, Gareth casually wheeled past me having finished his route, the longer one with all the hills and stuff. ARRGH.

I calmed down with a cup of tea, for there will always be days like that. Something can feel ridiculously easy one day but feel like the Tour de freakin France the next. Especially when you're shiny new to this cycling palaver. So I will carry on and rest my weary legs today.

. . .

I really miss that dog. It's ridiculous to miss something you only knew for a few hours, but I do. Actually, it's more the idea of the critter that I miss.

I used to have a dog back in Australia, and I was a terrible parent. I should have rescued an aging, immobile lump from the shelter to match my own fitness level, but I fell for a hyperactive mutt that I called Harry. I'd take him for a walk and he'd pull on the lead, gasping and gagging, and I'd think, "That little bastard, why won't he heel?".

Now I can admit that of course strained at the leash - he was bored out of his tiny little skull! He wanted to run! He wanted to sniff things! But I couldn't shuffle for more than a few blocks without needing to find a park bench to recover. I still feel so guilty for being such an unfit mother. He deserved someone who could carve up the pavement and walk for miles.

I remember one time Harry escaped and ran into the church graveyard across the street. This was in 2000, when I was at my very lardiest. I chased him as fast as I could, which was extremely un-fast I can tell you now. By the time I got there he was pinging between the headstones, nose to the ground. I did not have the physical ability to run after him, so I called his name. But he ignored me. Instead he sauntered over to a headstone, where a family of mourners were placing flowers, and PEED ALL OVER IT. I didn't know which was worse; the shame of him pissing on the grave or my complete inability to do anything about it.

I found a new home for Harry not long before we moved to Scotland and even though I was much fitter by then, I was so glad to see his new Mum was very fit and active. I still wish I could call up that hound and apologise for those couple of years when I was so rubbish for him. I just know if I had a dog now, I could do so much better! I could do things right! I'd love to have a four-legged excuse to go outside. We could walk for hours and throw sticks and I could crash tackle it before it had to the chance to lift a leg in an inappropriate place. Someday, someday.

C'est Harry!

 

Downhill XTREME!

We're almost one-sixth of the way through 2007 so it's high time I checked in on some of my goals for the year.

7. Learn to ride my bike down a hill!!!

Ooh, three exclamation marks. You know that means business.

I finally got back on Valentino on Tuesday. He'd been gathering cobwebs for six months or so due to knee-hab and crappy weather.

I did my usual I don't wanna whinging as we got ready to go out. Why does cycling involve so much bloody gear? The tiny shorts with the padded crotch, the leggings, the top, the lurid jacket, the dinky skullcap so my ears don't freeze off, the helmet, the gloves. When I was a kid, all you needed was bare feet, shorts n t-shirt and the spirit of youth!

Out on the street, I was still too chicken to ride on the Big Road down to the cycle track, so I pedaled timidly and illegally on the footpath. I felt so much more comfortable on the bike than before, but I still don't have the skills to release the handlebar death-grip in order to make a hand signal!

Once on the path it felt brilliant straight away. My legs (and knee) were so much stronger. The breeze was icy and my fingers were numb but it was great to be outside, dodging horse shit and twigs and trying to remember what all the levers do. We went a leisurely 3.5 miles before I had to stop to dig out a wedgie. Stupid tiny bike shorts.

I was all set to turn around and head for home when Gareth pointed to a quiet country road leading off the path.

"Fancy riding down the hill?" he asked.

"No!"

"But what about your New Year's Resolution? You said you wanted to go down hills!"

"Yeah but. Isn't it enough that I came out at all? I mean, that's excellent progress."

"Nup. Come on. It's only a wee hill."

"It's HUGE! And there could be a car."

"There's been two cars on this road in the past month!"

"With my luck, I'll get mowed down!"

"C'mon!"

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!"

The top of the hill looked too steep so I kinda half-dismounted and shuffled a few metres down to a less scary starting point. I pushed off and... wheeeeeeee!

Okay. I braked the whole way down.

And then I couldn't bloody get back up the hill! I had forgotten how to work the gears!

"Which one makes it easier to pedal!?" I screamed to Gareth. "Left or right!?". In the end I had to push the bike up the hill.

"Just great," I said, "I have issues going down AND up hills! Right. Let's go home."

"Home?" said Gareth. "Aren't you going to give it another go?"

"No way! That's enough for one day."

"Awww! One more go?"

"NOOOOUUUUEEE!" Why is it the more juvenile I behave, the more vowels I pack in to a word?

"NOOOOUUUUUEE!" Gareth mimicked in his increasingly convincing Australian accent. "What about your resolution?"

"That was just an idle promise, you pushy bastard."

He's really not pushy at all; I think that's what makes me so cranky. If he was being a real bully I could have just told him to bugger off. But when he is being so patient and encouraging, well.

You know what else was so bloody infuriating? Realising that I was experiencing a genuine (albeit irrational) fear. And I couldn't use my fat to avoid it anymore. I have lost my all-purpose excuse.

Before I would never have even bought a bike in the first place because I'd have said, "I can't, I'm too fat!". But now if don't want to do something, it's because I'm scared or lazy or afraid of failing or looking stupid. It's no doubt been like that all along, but the fat was an excellent excuse. It was such an obvious, visible physical barrier; whereas to just admit to myself that I was scared of a gently undulating slope? It's confronting and bloody embarrassing. I've known for years I can no longer play the I'm Too Fat card, but every now and then I miss it.

"Alright then," I hissed. "I'll do it."

"Woohoo!" said Gareth. "See if you can get halfway down before you put on the brakes!"

I have to admit the second time was almost enjoyable. It was bloody fast but I didn't brake until 3/4 down. I almost crapped myself when a car came along but I managed to pull over in time without falling into the ditch. And I managed to pedal 3/4 back up the hill, huffing and cursing, until I totally ran out of gears! My legs circled madly going nowhere, like a cartoon character going over a cliff.

So obviously I have much to learn. But I had fun and felt quite at home on the bike. I was really chuffed when Gareth told me later I looked really natural and comfortable on the bike, as opposed to my previous grim expression and stiff limbs. Woohoo!

I took a picture of The Hill on the cameraphone and couldn't believe how pathetic it looked like on the screen! The perspective is distorted or something. But I SWEAR, it's steeper than it looks. It's really scary! Honest. Yeah.

Geek On Wheels

It pelted down with rain today. For a week the weather has veered wildly from rain to hail to sunny bursts to gale force winds to general shitiness. Top temperature of 13'C (55F). It's almost June! WHERE THE HELL IS SUMMER?

I went out on my bike on Sunday afternoon anyway. It was smooth sailing for the first half of the trip. The dark clouds behaved themselves, there was minimal dog shit on the cycle path, and I was feeling rather speedy and competent! Until Gareth pedaled up beside me and pinched me on the arse.

I let fly with a nasty torrent of abuse that I won't repeat because my mum reads this, all while staring straight ahead. I couldn't reach out and pinch him back as I'm too scared to let go of the handlebars. I can only ride in a straight line, you see. There's no admiring the scenery. I'm no good with corners or sticks on the ground and afterwards my hands are cramped and red raw from my death grip on the handlebars. I am sure this will get better over time!

Riding back home was interesting, as we were heading into the wind and my too-big waterproof jacket filled with air to add even more resistance. It was like pedaling through treacle. Mmmm, treacle. I remember thinking, Whoa! This is just like when we turn up the resistance in Spinning class! Then when I hit a non-windy stretch I thought, Woohoo! Just like the sprints in Spinning class!

Then of course I eventually remembered that cycling on roads actually came first, long before classes where you pedal to nowhere. Moron.

So I had great fun and felt nicely worked out too. The only drawback was feeling like I had been repeatedly kicked in the groin. Even with padded shorts, the seat just ain't comfy. Gareth has kindly ordered me a nice Women's Seat, which are designed for a wider butt. And they're nicely padded with an indent to nestle ones delicate nether regions. A FLAP GAP if you will, as my husband so eloquently calls it.

And! Geekgasms ahoy! I have a bike computer! It's a tiny hunk of plastic that looks like a glorified stopwatch but it can tell me the time, how far I've ridden, how fast and my average speed; plus stock tips and astrology reports. I love statistics. I think this calls for another spreadsheet. Huzzah!

In other news, I weighed in today and the four pound gain of last week has been reversed. But I don't trust those figures. I will see what happens next week. I'm paranoid that it's only because my precious muscles have all wasted away from lack of lifting! That was a joke, hold your fire!

Here is a picture of my bike! It's supergrainy and nicked from the bike shop website. One day I will take a photo of my actual bike with me on it, but I feel too flabby right now. I've still yet to give it a name; I was thinking Valentino, after my favourite MotoGP rider. But he has had a run of bad luck lately so I don't know if should curse my precious machine!

Don't Like Hills

The shoulder is much improved! Thanks to rest and ibuprofen and stretching and paying attention to my posture, I'm no longer in agony. I even cranked out 1300 words of Book yesterday with no major problems. As I said in the comments of the last entry, it's no good me doing all these bloody Pilates classes and yoga tapes if I'm not going to put it into practice in everyday life.

Today at the physio we focused more on my Dodgy Knee. What Dodgy Knee, you may ask. Well it's the same ol knee I injured during my running training last year. It's still giving me trouble almost a year on, I just haven't been boring you with the tedious details. It seems ridiculous that I could still be having problems from such a brief flirtation with running, but it's true. While the pain eased the general grinding and sporadic aches never really improved. And because I'm a bloody idiot, and got used to the sensation, I never got round to doing anything about it til now.

I don't want to go into too many details, because it's impossible to accurately describe almost a year of various pains and attempts at healing and medical advice in just a few paragraphs, and it's always open to misunderstandings and assumptions and that can be frustrating. But in summary, it turns out the knee is still in very bad shape. The exercises my last physio prescribed were apparently doing more harm than good, and my attempted Running Comebacks were premature. And some of the things I did thinking they were Low Impact were actually too much impact.

Arrgh. Arrgh. So. It's going to take some fixin'. I've got 4-6 weeks of therapy coming up. No lower body weights, no squatting, no kneeling, no rowing and running is totally out. I've only to do the most teeny tiny exercises, like tensing my quad and releasing. Six sets of ten. Exciting. And after this time if it doesn't respond I may have to be referred to the dude that has the camera thingies they stick in your knee to clean out all the debris that may be floating around in there.

Which of course freaking terrifies me. I don't want anyone digging around inside my knees! I will do these exercises and rest and make every attempt to avoid the digging.

You have no idea how angry and frustrated I am with myself right now! I am so crap at listening to my body. All this past year I have been so obsessed with getting fitter and smaller that I just neglected to properly treat this knee. Since the crippling pain had gone, I thought it was okay to have the freakishly loud grinding. I didn't do this out of misplaced martyrdom, I just stupidly got used to it and got busy with my weights and kickboxing and lord knows what, all the while making it worse.

Anyway, I'll stop my whinging. The upside is, I'm in truly excellent hands. And I am determined to be a good, responsible patient this time. I've learned my lesson.

. . .

At least I have full blessing to cycle. I got my bike on Saturday and it RULES. We rode seven miles that afternoon and I had a ball, when I wasn't crapping my pants with terror. I had my fingers poised over the brakes the whole way, just in case, and when we got back my hands ached from gripping the handlebars so hard. Nearly fell off coming back into our driveway, upon realising too late that I lacked the balancing skillz to do a hand signal.

On Sunday we went to the park where I was humiliatingly overtaken by a swarm of six-year-olds. Then I discovered my fear of descents most definitely applies to bikes as well. Anytime there was even a hint of a downward slope - say, the distance between the top of a Mars Bar to the bottom - I would freeze and dismount and whimper, "I don't like hills! I don't like hills!".

It's a learning curve, I tells ya.

. . .

So Gareth and I are away tomorrow for a couple of days to see my beloved Radiohead and have our first non-wedding-related break together! Huzzah. I promise to return refreshed and ungrumpy. Take care, dear comrades!

Domestic Bliss

Today I went CRAZY in SC's kitchen. Or should I say Our Kitchen. It was time to blend my array of kitchen shite with his. I took things out of cupboards, ruthlessly chucked out anything I'd not seen him use in the past six months, wiped and scrubbed and polished. He kept offering to help but, at the risk of sounding like my mother, it was quicker to do it myself ;) So now the cupboards are all organised logically, instead of in his freestylin' bachelor way. My endless bags of lentils and brown rice and quinoa and seeds are finally nestled all cosy with his Spaghetti Hoops. And our spice racks are now one! You have never seen so much bloody cumin in your life. It's one of those things that seems to breed.

Everyone's been teasing me and SC that I would Take Over the flat as soon as I moved in and make great sweeping changes. People seem to forget how fundamentally lazy I am - I couldn't be arsed redecorating. But the kitchen is one place I like a bit of order, especially after sharing a kitchen with six others for the past two years! Now everything has a place and my seeds and oats are all packed in their wee containers ready for this weeks' breakfasts, therefore I feel ready to face the world!

Things have been happening on the exercise front. Last Sunday in addition to the Couch to 5k Run, SC took me out for another bike lesson. I was a reluctant student, on the verge of a tantrum. I always talk about how I'd like to get into cycling, but every time he takes me out I freeze up and get panicky. But SC was persistent, and before long I was hurtling along the cycle path, changing gears and everything! The last bike I rode had pink streamers coming from the handlebars and a basket on the front! It was utterly terrifying, I couldn't steer straight for the life of me. I was so embarrassed I'd stop every time I could see someone coming. But after awhile I pedalled on, and was passed by a family on tandems. The mother smiled sympathetically and said, "They're hard to control, these contraptions, aren't they?"

I was so bloody mortified, but oh well. You gotta start somewhere! In the end I did about three miles until my arse got numb. SC walked along in the background, then I pedalled back to the start of the cycle path and sat on a tree stump and waited for him to get back.

"What did you think of that?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. Not bad I spose."

So we've kept up with the running. Getting outside is the hardest part. Lots of whining and moaning before finally getting the shoes on, "FINE! Alright! I'll go!". Saturday I was on my own and managed to run a whole freaking mile! Huzzah! My personal record. How the hell to marathon folk run 26 of them!?

Today was pouring rain all day long and I was looking for any excuse to stay on the couch, but we got the waterproof jackets on and trotted out. It was walk 2 minutes, run 1.5 minutes, times six as per the Couch to 5k, then some more walking at the end. It was so weird but I really liked running in the rain! The park was deserted and the rain was light and steady and I felt so much stronger than last week. You could almost say I enjoyed it! I can't believe it either.