The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl

Moonwalk Tips

Here's a great idea. Let's gather up 10,000 of us and stay up until midnight, then take off our tops then parade around the streets of Edinburgh in our bras for 26.2 miles. C'mon! Where's your sense of adventure?

A year later the painful sweaty memories of the Moonwalk marathon have mellowed. Except for the part with the 13 miles of leg cramp and turbulent stomach. Apart from that it was a pure magic.

Since that fateful night lots people have arrived at this blog by Googling "Moonwalk training tips" and I thought, "Yeah! I should write some Moonwalk tips!" But I've faffed around for so long the 2009 London walk has already been and the Edinburgh one is next weekend! Let's get on with it anyway and we can help Saturday's ladies and the Googlers of the Future.

I canvassed some of my teammates for their hot tips too, so it's not just whingy me hoping others might learn from my mistakes. And I know there's some fellow Moonwalk Veterans out there, so if you've got any wisdom to share please feel free to join in in the comments!

Moonwalk Report - Part II

Alternative Title: The Flaming Calves of DOOM!

After the Crotch Whacking Cones, Miles 9 through 12 were a blur. It was so dark as we trudged along Queensferry Road, plastic ponchos whooshing like a lullaby. I drifted in and out of conversations, trying to ignore the ache in the ball of my left foot. At Mile 10 the people doing the Half Moon turned left and headed back towards the city centre. They only had another 3.1 miles to go, lucky bastards.

Now we headed away from the big roads and down towards the sea...

Moonwalk Report

Aside from the toaster, the greatest invention ever must be the Time and Date thingy on digital cameras and mobile phones. Two weeks after the Moonwalk I can barely remember it; my brain seems determined to suppress the finer details of all the pain and glory. But thankfully I can look at photo data or my Sent text messages and let the memories spew forth... "OH YEAH, that's that precise moment I wanted to fling myself under a double decker bus rather than take another step."

So here we go...

Saturday 14 June, 10AM - On the morning of the Moonwalk there was nothing left to do but carb it up. The training was done. The bra was decorated. The socks had been nestled inside the shoes in readiness. Bring on the rice and porridge.

I lazed around between bowls. We picked up Jenny from the airport, and some most excellent bacon from the farmer's market ready for my post marathon sarnie.

6PM - Tried to take a nap but Lionel Richie's All Night Long was stuck on an endless loop in my head.  How can one sleep with those saucy beats? I got dressed and paced impatiently. In the end I wore a tank top underneath my decorated bra. I was okay to bare arms but the belly was a bridge too far!

7PM - Had a last minute brainwave to live blog the walk on Twitter so I linked my phone to my account. Didn't realise until the next day that I'd put in the wrong number and had been rambling sending texts to some poor sleepless bastard all! night! looooong!  

8PM - Hitched a ride to Edinburgh with my Moonwalking comrades. On the way over we compared carbo notes and the joys of coating your feet in Vaseline. Try it, I tell you. Lube up your feet then slide into a pair of cotton socks; it feels like you're walking on air. Or a field of pillows. Or across the plump buttocks of many cherubs. For the first two miles, at least.

8.45PM - Arrived at MoonwalkCity, aka a gigantic pink tent in the middle of The Meadows.

Suddenly it was all rather exciting. I knew there would be 12,000 Moonwalkers but I didn't fathom the scale until I saw the sprawling sea of feathers, flowers and sequins. And pink pink pink. Mostly women but a few blokes gleefully showing off their brassieres.

We all plonked down in the tent. And so began the waiting.

9.30PM - Pinned race number to my trouser leg. Felt smug since I had proper safety pins instead of staples this time.

9.40PM - Ate my allocated vegie pasta ration. Surprisingly tasty!

9.50PM - Smugness came to abrupt halt when I noticed that I'd somehow managed to KNEEL IN MY PASTA, leaving a greasy red stain on my race number.

71 June

I walked the Walk! But I'll have to wait to talk the Walk until later in the week when we get back from our wee jaunt in the Highlands. The Walk took me EIGHT HOURS so as you can imagine I have a lot of Walk to talk about.

But I've run out of time; its 1.23 AM and I just finished going over 409 pages of proofs for the US edition of Dietgirl. I read the cover note last week in a zombified state and thought it said, "complete by 71 June". Plenty of time, nae bother! But of course there is no such date. It was actually 17 June, which is today. Now my eyeballs feel like they're about to explode which nicely parallels the feeling in my calves!

I better scoot to bed. Until next time, here is a picture from the Start line, just before midnight. Already looking tired, but behold the joy and innocence!

(We are all wearing plastic coat thingies because it was SO bloody cold)

And here is the complete opposite of joy at 4.21 AM . The orange was very tasty, however.

I wanted to say a huge thank you for all your kind comments and Moonwalk wishes! And also a big woohoo to those who climbed aboard the 100 PushUps challenge. I did the Initial Test and managed just three trembling reps. The only way is up.

Twas The Night Before Moonwalk

1 day to go

This time tomorrow night I'll be waiting for the stroke of midnight, my cue to start Moonwalking along with 11,999 other bra-wearing folk. Shit! Shit! Shit a brick! I mean, woohoo!

We had a bra decorating party last Saturday - Dirty Dancing, Chinese food and a sea of sequins, fluff and taffetta. There was booze galore but nobody drank much as our hands were too busy with scissors and needles and glue. Conversation was minimal; just random bursts of song and swearing when thumbs were stabbed.

I tried to channel all the skillz learned for my Brownie sewing badge circa 1986. Thankfully Claire had earlier dyed all our bras a lovely shade of fuschia pink, so mine looked pretty cool already as the lacy bits stayed white. It took me three hours just to sew one bit of frill along the bottom and a squiggle of silver across each boob. Check out them highly accurate stiches. Brown Owl would be proud!

Here is the finished product, nestled lovingly against Gareth's engineering textbook. Some serious engineering going on in that bra,too.

Since Saturday I've been in state of Wardrobe Panic. I'd been so focused on walking the 26.2 miles that I totally ignored the do-it-in-your-bra bit. During training I wore a long-sleeved top with my boob-crushing grubby ye olde Enell sports bra underneath. The bra above was supplied by the Moonwalk folk and Einstein here didn't bother trying it on until Sunday night and discovered that it isn't supportive enough to tame my girls.

Well, DERR! That's Australian for DUH, btw. Why the hell would a frilly bra be suitable for an 8 hour walk? Of course I panicked for a couple more days until it was too late to order a different bra online or go shopping in Edinburgh. I've come up with an eleventh hour solution with a second bra and a large pot of Vaseline but really, I am tempted just to wear it as a hat:

I reserve the right to keep this photo small
due to current state o' haggardness.

I feel like a twit writing this, but I had a total Fat Girl Freakout on Sunday. When I signed up late last year, I thought the Moonwalking in your bra was such a fab way to raise money for breast cancer research and I was pretty cool with my body these days so bring it ON. But the wave of panic started on Saturday night - looking at my bra, looking at my colleagues, comparing my body to theirs, feeling larger and wobblier by the minute.

The panic grew overnight then on Sunday afternoon in the shower, I just started bawling my eyes out. I felt so sick to my stomach, the thought of my bare arms and bare belly out for all the world to see. For my work colleagues to see. I felt like a fraud; like I'd been disguising myself as a Normal Person just like them and now they were going to find out I was a wobbly-armed mess.

I thought about how there was something noble about a scar from a surgery or a stretch mark from bearing a child, but what if your impefections are just your own bloody fault; the result of too much chocolate and chips and whatnot? For those ten minutes under the shower I felt ashamed and angry, thoughts racing through my head that had not surfaced for many years.

After I had my good old cry I towelled off, got dressed and tried the pink bra on again. I took photos from a bazillion different angles and just looked at them on the computer for ages. I calmed down after that. You'll be alright, ya dork.

90% of the time I live and breathe that bit of my silly book where I go on about embracing all my lumps and bumps. But I guess embracing said lumps in everyday life is different from having to parade them around town all night long. Like I said, I feel like a goose even writing about the Freakout, but I like to be honest; not just with you but with myself. This feeling-good-in-your-own-skin thing isn't always smooth sailing. I still have my little moments but thankfully they're fleeting these days.

Really, I can't wait to get out there tomorrow with my mates in my beloved Edinburgh. The big night is finally here and I think it's going to be a hoot.

Moonwalk Training - 20 Miles

2 weeks to go

Twenty mile haiku
Known in metric as
thirty-two kays. But to all,
a bloody long way

Route
10 miles out on the cycle track then ten miles back. I didn't count the half-mile walk from home to the path this time, since I struggled with the maths last week.

Weather Report
HOT! HOT! HOT!
Well, alright. It wasn't hot. It was about 20 degrees (68F). Stop laughing, my fellow Australians. Do I mock when you put on scarves coz it's 12 degrees? Seriously, I'm pathetic in the sun these days and deserve to have my Oz passport revoked. Just try to understand what an alarming sensation it is to see this weird pale blue stuff above your head. 20 degrees can feel positively balmy, especially if you're walking all day long. The epidermis sizzles in shock and you start muttering, Walk faster! Faster! Before the skin cancer gets you!

So that is what I did. I banged out mile after mile, glopping on more sunscreen every hour and weeping stingy sunscreeny tears. The bike path was 70-30 split of sun and shade, so it was like interval training - charging through the sunny parts then easing off in the less treacherous shady bits.

The first ten miles were okay. I sipped water regularly and felt pretty good. Hot and sweaty, but good. My feet ached in the usual tired-but-not-too-hurty way. I stopped to take a picture of this delightfully retro scarecrow.

I say old chap! Get the devil away from my cabbages!

Puffed
I've heard about the phenomenon of swollen hands during long walks and finally experienced it myself on Saturday. This was mile 11 when I had to loosen my heart rate monitor by two notches because my wrists had ballooned.

Losing the plot
Maybe my fatigued brain is failing me as I'm writing this five days after the event, but I don't think the 20 miler was all that bad until the last four. I was hardly jumping for joy but I had some great podcasts and almost tuned out the fact that I was in motion. Plus, I was worming out of painting the living room. Poor Gareth was slaving over the skirting boards while I strolled along, eating Mars Bars.

But something pinged in my brain when I saw 4 miles spray painted on the cycle path. It hit me that I'd been walking for four long hours and had at least another hour to go. My body hurt and I was all woe and melodrama. This is the longest training walk ever. In fact, this is the longest walk I've ever done in my life. BOO!

And I was thirsty. I'd drunk plenty of water already but very specifically wanted a glass of orange and passionfruit juice from a cafe back in Australia. And I was hungry, but all I had left was a wilted peanut butter sandwich.

I got strangely weepy at the 3 mile mark. How was it that a couple hours early I was all, "Yay! Only 11 miles to go!" and now three puny miles seemed like walking to Jupiter?

Then at 2 miles my shoulders were agony (wtf!?) and I tragically ran out of podcasts. Nooo! I dispensed my emergency cheery-up tunes, The Best of Blur. There's No Other Way! Damon sang. No shit. The jaunty tunes felt like mosquitoes spitting in my ears but at least got me moving and thinking, lets get this miserable stinker done.

Everything hurt for the last mile but I stayed ahead of the beat in Girls and Boys. It was the quickest one, just under 14 minutes, as I adopted an Olympic walker style - arms pumping, nostrils flaring, generally looking like I had a stick up my butt.

Aftermath
My legs turned to lead as soon as I finished. It took 11 minutes to limp that extra half-mile home. I nearly called Gareth to pick me up but I think my fingers would have been to swollen to press the right buttons.

When I got home all I could do was slump in my chair, whinge incoherently and wait for my hands to deflate. My normally too-big wedding band was stuck fast.

I am so glad that's over. Now there's just over a week til the big night. And then after that I shall avoid all forms of walking as much as possible. Rickshaws all the way.

Pace
20 miles (32 km) in 04:56:52. Average pace 14:50 (4.04 mph)

Moonwalk Training - 16 Miles Revisited

3 weeks to go. Arrgh!

Fuel

• Porridge and
• Toast
• Cuppa
• Litre of water
• An overwhelming desire to Just Get The Bastard Done ASAP so I could get on with the rest of my thrill-a-minute weekend, ie. paint the living room while listening to the cricket like a middle-aged middle-class fart. Zzzzz.

Route
Continuing the Just Get The Bastard Done theme, I chose the most straightforward route possible. There is a cycle track half a mile from our flat. It's the outdoor equivalent of a treadmill - dull and straight and predictable. There's markers every half mile and every kilometre. So I planned to walk down, crank out 7.5 miles, turn around, 7.5 miles back, plus the half mile back home for a total of 16.

But what I thought would be a chore turned out quite pleasant. I'd never gone further than four miles on the track before, so didn't realise after that it gets all green and leafy and serene...

And more importantly, plenty of places to hide if you're bursting on a pee.

Then it opens out into quiet fields with swaying crops. No car fumes, no traffic lights, no noise... just the occasional bit of motivational graffiti!

Mathematically Challenged
I was really firing along, counting down the half miles. Vun! Vun-Point-Five Miles! Two! Two-Point-Five Miles! AH HA HA! Then the half-mile markers just stopped at mile five for no good reason.

I switched to the kilometre markers. My arithmetic sucks at the best of times, let alone while walking like a demon. But thanks to the restorative powers of a Half A Snickers Bar, I worked out that 7.5 miles is 12-point-something kilometres. So I turned around at 12.

Then I needed to figure out how fast to walk a kilometre in order maintain a 15 minute mile pace. FAIL! I had to call Dr G for that one.

Give That Girl A Kicking
Right at the end I saw two Moonwalkers In Training in their official sexy pink tartan caps. They'd only just started; their water bottles were full and expressions were grim. So I don't know what part of my fatigued brain thought it would be a great idea to yell out, "I'm nearly finished!"

Once off the cycle track I headed for home, hobbling around a few extra blocks in case my calculations were crap. Luckily I did, as turns out 12 kilometres is only 7.45645431 miles so overall I would have been 0.0870914 miles short of the 16 miles. And we can't have that while training for a non-competitive charity event, CAN WE?!

Pain Report

• Right shin - excruciating for last five miles
• Feet - on fire for last hour
• Ears - random small child on tricycle accompanied me for a mile with her REALLY SQUEAKY WHEELS. My womb is so conflicted: one minute I'm all well aren't you a DELIGHT and the next I wanted to slash her pink plastic tyres.

Pace
16.1 miles (25.91km) in 04:01:00. Average pace 14:58 (4.01 mph)

That's more than 20 minutes faster than the previous 16 miler. I put that down to an obscenely huge breakfast and such unfathomable love for painting walls that you want to walk your arse back to the brush as swiftly as possible.

So I felt all speedy, smug and Sporty Spice... until I found out all my team members had done their walks even quicker. Bastards! I know it's not a race, I know it's just for charidee; I know they're not going to leave me behind on the night. But after all these years of sweat and toil I'm still stuck with my high school title of Slowest In The Group? I gotta find me some less speedy comrades. Hehe.

Moonwalk Training - 16 Miles

5 weeks to go

I was due a crappy training walk; things had been going far too smoothly!

Despite being well-fed and watered, my legs felt weak from mile three. The weather was strange too, humid and sticky like Sydney. Normally I just let my mind wander with the music and almost forget that I'm in motion, but on Saturday I was conscious of every step. I wanted to throw rocks at the runners who breezed past me, with their infuriating ability to run therefore covering distances in far shorter times.

I had to give up my usual obsession with Making Good Time and just plod. At mile eleven my calves seized up, it felt like I had tennis balls trapped under the skin. FLAMING tennis balls. With metal spikes. Mile twelve I considered taking a bus. Mile thirteen saw thunder and lightning. Then it poured rain for the last two. I thought about crawling on my hands and knees. When I finally got home I gingerly lowered myself onto the couch and did not move for three hours. Job done!

Another Case for the Time-Traveling Fat Detective
More fodder for my forthcoming blockbuster novels - The Mysterious Case of the Abandoned Lipstick. It was broken and floating in a puddle - L'Oreal Colour Riche in a pale, aloof shade. Probably fell from the handbag of a leggy blonde as she was stuffed into a dark Mercedes. Or some litterbug that needs a smack in the chops.

Pace
Urgh. 16 miles (25.75km) in 04:20:46. Average pace 16:16 (3.38 mph)

Observation
If you decide to empty your bladder in a deserted bit of wilderness, for goodness' sake check for nettles before you crouch down.

Moonwalk Training - 14 Miles

6 weeks to go

An important part of my training has been numerical ignorance. As a metric Australian, I had no real concept of a mile. It was meaningless to me as a unit of measurement. So last year I signed up with great enthusiasm, unable to fathom 26.2 miles. 26.2 units of something didn't sound bad at all.

It's like when I first came to Scotland in 2003 and couldn't comprehend the pound. "£3 for a sandwich?" I'd say, "Sold!"

But of course the danger comes when you do the conversion. "Eight dollars for a shithouse mayo-drenched sandwich!? HIGHWAY ROBBERY!" (the exchange rate was particularly rubbish at the time).

Likewise, it occurred to me recently that 26.2 miles is actually 42 kilometres. I know how far 42 kilometres is. I can relate that distance to places that I know. Suddenly the Moonwalk went from being a casual walk in the dark to: a bloody long way.

"That's like walking from Cowra to Canowindra and back!" I spluttered to Gareth. "Why would anyone want to do that?"

"From where to where?"

The next day I was telling my Aussie friend Jenny about the Moonwalk on the phone.

"42 kilometres?" she said, "That's like Cowra to Canowindra and back!"

Back to the training
Saturday's walk was 14 miles and it just about took the first mile to calculate that 14 miles was 22.5 kilometres. Man. That's soooo many numbers.

But the sky was gloomy and threatening so I trudged on regardless, trying to forget that I was walking to Canowindra.

Scenery
It was a long and lonely walk; I hardly saw a soul all afternoon. Just lots of rabbits and bees. Bees are so huge in this country. Australian bees, or at least the ones I've been stung by, are lean and mean. The British bees are round and furry. Like cockroaches wearing bee suits.

Soundtrack
Podcast-o-rama. Inspired by this list on Textism, I listened to The Bugle (with The Daily Show's John Oliver), This American Life, and Stephen Fry banging on about Oscar Wilde. All those intelligent folks made for a very smug and soothing walking experience.

Pain Report
The soles of my feet started to hurt around mile 10, and both knees were aching by mile 11. It wasn't an injured kind of pain, just the ache of fatigue and cannae-be-arsed-ness. I thought I'd collapse once I got back home, but I felt revitalised enough after a bottle of water to give the kitchen another coat of paint before dinner.

Pace
14.03 miles in 03:37:28. Average pace 15:30 (3.87 mph)

Tangent
All this walking makes me HUNGRY. I wouldn't advise getting into this sort of caper if you think it'll make you lose weight. In April I walked 78 miles, plus weekly kickboxing and Spinning and twice-weekly weight training. In between? I ate. And ate and ate and ate.

Somehow it all balanced as my weight stayed the same and my flesh is still safely contained by my jeans. But I wonder how I'd have reacted to all this training a couple of years ago, when I was still gung-ho about weight loss and scale numbers. Right now my motivation is to get fitter and stronger so I'm willing to listen to my body if it says, "GIMME FOOD!" But back then I think the raging appetite and weight fluctuations would have truly messed with my head.

Moonwalk Training - 12 Miles

7 weeks to go

Preparation
Less shoddy! I woke up in Glasgow totally parched after the previous night of rock. But I ate a huge hotel breakfast, got the bus home then guzzled water for a few hours. When I finally set out at 4PM I felt good and ready.

Route
The new route avoided boring housing estates and instead stomped past pretty villages and beautiful but stinky canola crops. I printed out a map with mile markers and road names and promptly left it next to the computer. But at least I brought water this time! Maybe too much water. Thankfully the route contained a nice bit of wilderness for an emergency pit stop.

Soundtrack

• Led Zeppelin I
• New Goldfrapp album
• Various podcasts
• Mewing of a mangy cat that followed me for ten minutes
• Rhiannon. I felt a bit lonely at 01:25 so called to say hello and we ended up yapping til 02.15! Well she talked the most; I didn't want to an obnoxious al fresco phone yapper, destroying the Sunday arvo serenity for any passers-by. I was busy with my huffing and puffing anyway.

Deep Topics Pondered
Vitamins. How come we have vitamin A, multiple vitamin B's, vitamin C, D and E then there's that huge leap down to vitamin K? What happened to vitamin J? And vitamin G has a nice ring to it too. When I get home, must look up history of vitamins.

The Mysterious Case of the Abandoned Shoe. I paused to snap a photo of a pair of black high heels that were tangled into some bushes near the train station.

I've been pondering new writing projects, and Gareth suggested I pen a series called The Time Travelling Fat Detective. His logic: everyone loves time travel (witness the success of Dr Who). And everyone loves chick detectives (witness the success of the No 1 Ladies Detective Agency). And they say to write about what you know, and I have been known to write about fat. Thus he reckons I could rake in the dough with The Time Travelling Fat Detective. So I pondered the shoes for a couple of miles. Murdered lady of the night? Kidnapped heiress? Most likely, lass with sore feet paused to have a spew on her way home from the pub. But where's the suspense in that!?

Pain Report
My knee and hamstring were so much better this time round. Everything felt better overall. By the end my legs were tired but I wasn't staggering and on the verge of howling like last time. Who'd have thought being properly hydrated and fueled would make such a difference? Ho ho ho.

Pace
Pretty good by my standards! I walked the 12 miles in 03:04:45, which is a 15:22 pace.

Moonwalk Mood-o-Meter
Much more optimistic now that I've got a decent long walk under my belt.

Moonwalk Training - 10 Miles

8 weeks to go

Saturday's 10 mile walk was a bit of a shambles. I had an appointment in Edinburgh early that afternoon so calculated I'd need to start walking by 8AM at the latest. I got everything ready on Friday night - iPod loaded, route mapped, clothes laid out; favourite socks nestled into shoes to prevent the usual outraged cries of where the hell are my Good Socks.

Gareth was also leaving early to go hillwalking with Steve, so he got his stuff ready too. His preparations didn't go far enough if you ask me. I suggested he place his thermos and piecebox on the kitchen counter ready for morning (piece is a Scots word for sandwich, how educational is this blog!?) I even volunteered to pre-slice the cheese for his cheese'n' pickle pieces so all he'd need to do was slip them between the bread. No faffing with knives and chopping boards. But he declined the offer!

Alas, all the prep in the world can't account for laziness. The alarm went off at 6.30AM which I'd figured would accommodate getting dressed, making and eating of porridge and sufficient hydration and digestion before the 8AM kick off (step off?). Instead I hit snooze, over and over again, muttering to Gareth, "Geddup. Time to geddup" and him muttering back "I know, I knooow".

Finally at 8.05AM I goddup, precious schedule destroyed.

"8.05!?" said Gareth, "I gotta make my pieces!"

"You should've pre-sliced your cheese!"

I dressed, had my cuppa and porridge and raced out the door at 8.45 - forgetting my knee support and heart rate monitor and water bottle.

I blitzed the first 4.5 miles, despite the strong winds. At the loch, I saw an elderly man on a scooter, tossing breadcrumbs and being chased very slowly by a herd of ducks. At the boring housing estate, I saw 900 bazillion identical boring houses.

And then I got LOST.

I'd written down all the street names, but didn't realise there were two adjacent roads with almost identical names. If there are any town planners out there, WHY DO YOU THIS? Why do you put Moron Street next to Moron Way across from Moron Crescent? Why not have completely unrelated names... Moron Street then Banana Avenue?

So I went down the wrong bloody road and found myself at the motorway entrance - next stop Edinburgh. What the hell!? I was too cranky to go back; I couldn't face walking past all those boring houses again. I turned down another road heading back towards town.

I ended up back at the Boring House junction and truly wanted to kick something. My pace was ruined and I had no idea how many miles I'd done.

In the end I repeated the first part of the route, up the hill and back past the loch again. I figured with my average speed I'd need to do between 02:30 and 02:45 to make sure I covered the distance.

At the two hour mark my hamstring started to ache and it occurred to me I didn't have my water. My legs just got heavier and heavier after that. But I was determined to get in the miles, so finished with a shuffling lap of the local park then limped home and sat on the couch for half an hour like a stunned mullet.

For the first time I worried about my ability to finish the Moonwalk. If I was completely shagged by just 10 tiny miles, how the hell would I do 26.2?

(Incidentally Gareth and Steve returned that evening having walked 18 21 miles*, including 3300 feet up a MOUNTAIN, the smug gits)

* thanks for the correction, G.

But I still have eight weeks. Let's not panic. I should get there if I keep training consistently and heed Saturday's lessons:

• Take water bottle.
• Read street signs properly.
• Obey the alarm clock.
• Pre-slice all cheeses.

Moonwalk Training - 8 Miles

9 Weeks to go

I spent so much of Saturday pissfarting around with my bloody heart rate monitor and trying to choose an audiobook that I had to walk on Sunday instead.

Audiobook Report
You people are geniuses! The eight miles really flew by with a book in my ears. I ended up with The Time Traveler's Wife.

Heart Rate Monitor Report
Perhaps I did my own bit of time travelling as apparently my heart just stopped beating for about ten minutes. And then at one point when I was huffing up a hill, it had allegedly slowed to my resting rate. !!?! But for most of the 02:04:59, the monitor reflected the level of exertion I felt at the time. When I was getting a bit too involved with the book I'd hear that faint BEEEEEEEEP and looked down to see the rate had slackened off so I'd pick up the pace again.

My HRM has a fitness test feature which I'm sure I will become obsessed with. Gareth doesn't call me "Statso" for nothing. The test is "based on gender, age, height, body weight, level of physical activity, heart rate and heart rate variability at rest". You put on the HRM then lay very quiet and still for five minutes until it spits a number at you that is apparently comparable to VO2 max. Anyway, the numbers are spread across a range - from Very Poor > Poor > Fair > Moderate > Good > Very Good > Elite. I was smack bang in the middle of the Moderate range. Well! Hmmph. I guess it's about time I aimed higher; it's easy to just compare yourself to older versions and say, "I'm an athlete! I used to get puffed walking to the fridge!"

Walking Report
The walk itself felt good, I kept up a nice pace. Not sure if this is due to athletic prowess or that I was desperate to get home in time for the MotoGP.

It's only eight weeks til the Moonwalk now and I'm a little nervous about the increasing mileages. My fitness level seems good but I get this annoying tightness in my right hamstring and glute - the same leg as my old dodgy knee. It's been three years since the knee injury and while the knee itself only gets a little achy at the end of the walk, the hamstring and glute thing is pretty much constant. My right leg is still so much weaker than the left. Must work on that.

NEW! EXCITING! Dietgirl Reader Gallery
This weekend I finally finished my wee gallery of People Reading Dietgirl from around the world. I'd spotted photos here and there, and the bombshells (plus one cat) allowed me to gather them in one place. I must have gawked at the page fifty times now; there's something quite thrilling about putting names to faces. Just seeing the blinds on Laura's window or Nelly's couch reminds me again that this little world we've created is so real... the blogs, the comments; the ideas on what to have for lunch. Exxxxxxxxcellent :)

Flakes and Flaming Cheeks

Tonight I was typing away like a demon when suddenly! We had a power cut. I lost my blog entry.

I passed the time by opening up a bunch of those sample sachets you get in magazines. First there was a Body Sculpting Lotion which I slapped on my chest then waited for the magic to happen. Beneath the candlelight it all looked quite promising but now with the lights back on I can report... it's a dud! Boo!

Next up was the Anti Wrinkle Day Cream which I daringly applied at 10PM. MISTAKE! Pain! Flames! What do they put in that stuff? If by Anti Wrinkle they mean Erode An Entire Layer Of Epidermis well then, they have succeeded here.

Anyway after all that excitement I'm having trouble remembering what I was writing about before.

I would have mentioned our BORING walk today. I am not entirely loving the Moonwalk training, I have to confess. This is despite the sparkling company I've had on my walks. It's not so much my body that's the problem but my tiny little brain. I like my exercise in short, sharp bursts of sweat and adrenaline and discomfort and possibly violence, e.g. Spinning or kickboxing. Anything longer than an hour and the mind wanders. This doesn't happen so much with the hill walking because you are too busy thinking about forthcoming sandwiches and/or how much PAIN you are in. But with the Moonwalk, you're training to walk 26.2 miles of a flat-ish course through the streets of Edinburgh, so you need to train on the same kind of urban terrain.

Gareth came along this afternoon and after half a mile of boring cycle path he said, "Whoa, this is boring isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why did you make me come on such a boring walk?"

"I didn't! I specifically told you I was going on a Boring Walk. You invited yourself!"

"Oh! Is that how it is?"

So we ambled along for six miles arguing about who was the most bored, punching each other on the arm at half-mile intervals because there was nothing better to do. But we kept up a good pace and the air was crisp and bracing after this morning's snowfall (which had melted after ten minutes). It's only ten weeks until the Moonwalk so I shall load some funky tunes on the ol iPod and PLOD ON, baby!

I would also have mentioned how I am beginning to claw my way out of the health/fitness rut I've been in for about... six or seven months now. It has been quite a process. A few weeks ago I had that panicky feeling where it feels like you'll never find that place again where you DON'T think about chocolate every seven seconds. Coincidentally I've had a lot of emails lately of a "Help, I've screwed up royally and fear I'm doomed forever" nature - is there something in the air? So I'll yak more about this in the next entry.

I feel like I've got my focus back now, but two weeks ago I could barely function for thoughts of chocolate. I was making a deliciously healthy curry and gathering all the spices in a wee dish and all I could do was stare at the cinnamon stick with a ridiculous conversation raging in my head:

OH MY that cinnamon stick looks just like a FLAKE. Why must it be a cinnamon stick? Why can't it be a Flake? I could bite into that right now. Even though I don't like Flakes. Except I wouldn't eat it, on principle! Because I can't bloody stand that new Flake ad with Joss Stone in it, muttering away to herself and brushing crumbs off her boobs. Stupid Flake ad.

Where Are The Snogs Of Spring?

Daylight savings starts Sunday! I've been telling anyone who'll listen. People, dogs, garbage bins. Wind back them clocks!*

It said so in my diary, and it seemed like the right time as the sun has been out and about lately. There's still light in the sky when I leave for work. There were robins hopping around on our lunchtime walk, not to mention a three-legged cocker spaniel that was moving way faster than us.

(* UPDATE - Melissa pointed out that it's clocks FORWARD. Is it any wonder I don't know what day it is!?)

I finally remembered today that I bought my bloody diary in America. So daylight saving only starts over there this weekend; the UK has to wait until the end of March. D'oh! I'll have to remember to go to work on the 4th of July.

It feels close enough to Spring anyway. I'm itching to throw things away, to try something new, to reorganise and refresh. Maybe get a really ill-advised haircut.

Another sign of impending spring is the wavering between soup and salad at lunchtime. Which way to go?! I think my thermostat is totally tuned to Scotland now because it was a sultry 8'C (46'F)the other day and I thought, SALAD TIME! Growing up in Australia I used to listen to the weather report every morning, hoping for a maximum temperature of 15'C (59'C) or below because that was my personal Tracksuit Threshold - cold enough that I could wear tracky dacks (aka sweatpants, joggy bottoms) to school and hide my much-loathed legs.

In other news, the Moonwalk (marathon walk) training is finally back on track. There's three of us meeting up for an eight miler tomorrow morning. When I joined the office walking team I thought, YES! Accountability and commitment! And now all I can think is, ARSE! Accountability and commitment! These things always sound good and noble on paper, don't they? But then you have to actually do the bastard training instead of sleeping in til noon.

K-Mart or Bust

I started my Moonwalk training today. Woohoo!

We’re supposed to get an official schedule in the post this month but I made my own because I want to get stuck in. For the next 18 weeks I’ve scheduled two short weekday walks  (3-6 miles [5 – 10km] then a longer one on weekends (starting at 6, building up to 20 miles [32km] and then tapering off before the big day). The schedules I found online had four walks per week, but I want to keep up my kickboxing and weight training so three’ll do me. It’s for charity, after all!

Four of us girlies went for a wander at lunchtime. Being Scotland and all, it was raining. At first it seemed dead boring compared with kicking and punching things, and I worried I’d die of boredom when it came to walking 26.2 miles in a row. But soon enough the endorphins kicked in and I thought, AHH how nice to be outside and temporarily free of the office shackles. There was also smugness, for we were striding like women possessed while the rest of the town were stuffing their faces with Gregg’s sausage rolls.

I realised that I need to take this training seriously. 18 weeks from now, I’ll have to be on my feet for nearly eight hours in a row. I was rather knackered after 45 minutes today! Granted I pushed hard at kickboxing last night, but I’ll have to build up some endurance. People have told me they’ve easily done the Moonwalk with skipped training sessions but I want to be a shining BEACON of fitness! I’m in a team of twelve work friends so I refuse to be Ms Slowy McSlowarse, bringing up the rear or collapsing on the side of the road begging for mercy and/or bacon sandwiches.

Another thing I like about training is that it will force me to use my time more effectively. I am still faffing around like you'd not believe. Today I woke up at 8.25AM, having hit snooze over and over for 70 minutes. I washed and dressed in a flash, slapped some almond butter on a piece of bread then galloped and swore my way to work. Miraculously I was only five minutes late, but that is not the behaviour of champions. For one, I discovered via Google Pedometer that it’s only 0.7 miles between home and work. WHAT!? On lazy days I’ve counted that to/from journey as Proper Exercise! Hmm.

So if I’m only 0.7 miles from work and don’t start until 9AM, there really should be plenty of time to do some exercise or writing, have a proper breakfast and not arrive at work in a mess. Of course that means getting to bed earlier, preparing things the night before, etc etc. But lately all I do is run round like a headless chook, bawling at the sight of my To Do list and unanswered emails. It may sound strange but I think adding a big fat time-consuming bitch of task like a marathon training will help me tackle all the other stuff. Fingers crossed, eh?

. . .

Thank you everyone who has been in touch about the book. Thank you so much for your emails and blog entries and rockin' reviews! And hearing news of K-Mart sightings back home in Australia made me strangely emotional! K-MART! That's the place I used to buy boxes of own-brand choc chip cookies and demolish them all home alone. That's the place I bought my Sweet Valley High books. That's where I pulled a tin of tyre paint off a shelf when I was three years old, coating myself and the aisle in black goo. Memorieeees!

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!