The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl

The Amazing Adventures of Philippa

Philippa, from Hampshire England, is a longtime Dietgirl reader. She's just finished the Up & Running 5K Course and inspired my socks off with the amazing changes she made over the eight weeks, inside and out.

I asked if she'd write about her running experience for you guys and she kindly obliged!

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Running was for fit people. Cool, confident people with bouncy ponytails who never broke a sweat. Not people who once ate a whole takeout pizza, plus side dish, plus dessert for dinner, nor people who got breathless walking up stairs. Running was for other people.

So how did I end up in the park on my day off, wearing trainers and a sports watch!?

A year ago I'd been in much the same position. I'd downloaded the Couch to 5K programme and gave it a go... for a whole 10 days. I turned purple, almost hacked up a lung and proved all the things I thought I knew about running, including the fact that I couldn't do it. I went back to the couch and the calorie counting. This had worked for the last few years, taking me from 220lb to 162lb. There was never much exercise involved; I didn't stick with anything for long.

So why would running be different this year? I was still a bit overweight, I still hated public exercise and I had already established that I just couldn't do it. I wrote to Shauna about Up & Running and she assured me that being a bit overweight and unfit wasn't a problem. My negative little brain insisted, C'mon, she doesn't mean you, you're a whole new level of couch potato! But Shauna gave me a firm nudge, saying that if I really wanted to do it, it was possible.

I really really wanted to. I signed up for Up & Running and for the next eight weeks I walked, skipped and stretched. I did arm swings, side-stepped and skipped some more.

And I started to run. Slowly.

It was so slow that I could probably have walked faster! But the first time I ran I laughed out loud, right there in the park. I was like a kid in the playground going down a slide, that feeling that makes you want to shout, Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, look at what I can do! That first 10 seconds of running was amazing. That was what got me out there for the next session - I wanted more of that feeling.

Occasionally the training messed with my head. I had to push Little Miss Grumpy out the door when she didn’t want to go. I'd doubt my abilities as I read the training plan, “They want me to do what?". If I had a 'bad' workout I'd be convinced the magic was gone and everything was about to come crashing down. Years of negativity about my abilities weren't going to disappear in a few weeks. But it wasn't magic that had got me running - that wasn't going to disappear either! It was simply an off-day and with the support and advice from Coach Julia and the other ladies, I got back out there and kept going.

Along the way I've learned so much more than just how to run. The person who started the Course didn’t know what she was capable of. She was scared of so many things, with failure being top of the list. She hated what she looked like and she sure as hell didn’t want to draw attention to herself either.

But now? Looking in the mirror I can still see the stretch marks and a belly roll and thighs, but when I run it doesn't matter. My thighs aren't monsters any more, they're strong and powerful. And they work! I've never treated my body very kindly, damaging it and filling it with substandard fuel, but it's mine and despite what I've put it through it still works. Whenever I run it does what I ask it to do, rewarding me for treating it more kindly.

The Course finished with us completing a 5K race. Each training session had covered a maximum distance of 4km, so I wondered if I had it in me.  As I started my stopwatch I was terrified. The old feelings of self-doubt were there until I ran past a little old lady. She asked me how many miles I was running.

"Three miles!" I said.

And just like that the fear was gone. She saw a chick in running clothes, running. She saw a runner. So of course a runner would be running a few miles on a lovely sunny morning! God bless that lady.

I finished my run in 37 minutes 8 seconds feeling good. Not anything amazing, just good. I came home and it all felt like a bit of an anti-climax.

But then the tears came.  Wonderful tears, as another Up and Runner called it, "talking with water". Thirty years of fearing failure poured out out with the realisation I’d accomplished something I'd never thought possible.

I'm planning my running future now. I did a 5k local parkrun this past weekend, then in mid June I'm going to Scotland to run with some of the other Up & Running ladies. I'll meet Shauna and thank her in person for being a huge part of my journey (and to apologise for using that cheesy word!).

I still have some weight to lose but it's not the only goal now. I want to run well and I know that being a little lighter will help, but I want to achieve things with this body of mine. I want to run 5km FAST! I want to do the Up & Running 10K course in September and I want to run a marathon some day!

I don't know how yet or what else will happen along the way, but I do know my body can do amazing things now. And I won’t let fear stop me any more.

Introducing... Up & Running running e-courses!

Out of all the bumbling sporty things I've tried over the past ten years, none has given me a greater rush than that 5K running race.

Way back in 2004 I got an email from a woman named Julia, an American in Italy. She was a running coach and said that I sounded like I was in need of a challenge. How would I like her to virtually train me for a 5K?

I told her the idea was bloody ridiculous. Running was for skinny girls with long legs and bouncy ponytails. Not for chunky lassies who got puffed running for the bus!

But Julia had already coached thousands of women who thought they couldn't run, so she'd heard all the excuses before. She urged me give it a go.

So for eight weeks I followed her programme. It was hard. I whined a lot. But it was fun! As each week went by I discovered I was capable of far more than I’d ever thought. I found new endorphin highs, new muscles in my legs and new faith in myself. Even though kickboxing and Zumba are my exercises of choice these days, running was the thing that made me ditch my fears about exercise and the "I could never do that" limiting beliefs.

I'll never forget blubbing my eyes out as I crossed the finish line at my 5K race. I wrote en blog:

"There is no better feeling in the world than to take your mind and body to some place you thought it couldn’t go; a place you thought it didn’t belong. You should all try it some time."

Now six years later, you can try it, if you fancy!

I'm chuffed to bits to let you know that today Julia and I have launched Up & Running: kickass running e-courses for women.

We've taken Julia's tried and true running training programmes online, so no matter where you are in the world you can get running too. Julia is your expert running coach, while I'm the boss of the website!

We're starting with our eight-week 5K Beginners Course, with plans for 10K, half marathon and marathon courses later down the line.

The 5K Course, which kicks off on 21 March, is not the usual boring "walk 5 mins, run 5 minutes" training malarkey. This is a mind and body approach. We'll not only get you running safely, we help you set goals and understand your motivations. We help you get in tune with your body and how to look after it when you run so you stay strong and healthy. We've got video tutorials, inspiring interviews with runners.

And we don't just give you a set of instructions then abandon you - you get unlimited support via our community forums - all your questions answered.

I'm really rambling on now - can you tell I'm excited!? I'm just so passionate about this because Julia is a brilliant coach and I so strongly believe in the power of exercise to change the way we see ourselves. Well. How about I shut up now so you can go check it out?*

(* If you want to. If you do, I will love you for life. Woohoo! :)

Kick and Scream

Wednesday Weigh-In Week 252 -- 0.4 kg lost. That's 72.9 kilos gone in total. Which means I've blasted 86.72% of my excess lard, with 11.3 kilos to go. Beware of the StatsDork!

Life has been boring lately, and that's just fine by me. It's been a chaotic year, what with that ridiculously short engagement, moving house, running off to Vegas, Home Office wrangling, forays into running, media whoring and all those silly weddings. And of course that came after two years of madness with moving overseas and becoming a travelling bum. So it's a pleasant change to slip into a  predictable-days quiet-nights boring married person routine for awhile.

Not that I intend becoming a boring married person and surrendering to middle aged cliches - I'm too used to adventure now to ever allow that to happen. But I am using this break from Excitement to tackle the steaming pile of neglect that has been my Everyday Life. I made a list of all the mundane tasks that I've been avoiding for years and have been slashing through said list like a madwoman. The Scottish Companion caught the same bug so together we have completely blitzed our little flat and now it's really becoming a cosy home.

We have sorted out every single cupboard, wardrobe, drawer, shelf, cardboard box, suitcase and hidey-hole. I can now find towels in the linen cupboard, and know the whereabouts of all my socks and undies thanks to a new chest of drawers in the bedroom. The cutlery is sorted in an organiser tray, instead of being randomly shoved into the kitchen drawer in a tangled pile of metal. My shoes are in a shoe rack thingy. My coats are on hangers instead of the Towering Chair Pile of Doom. All the DVDs are on the shelf, together at last! The old magazines have been recycled. The bank statements have been filed. Two years of recipes and exercise articles and crappy holiday souvenirs have been sorted into smug little folders with dividers and labels and plastic sleeves. The study is still tidy and I have room for my Reebok step and weights so I can do some lifting without the barbell clonking into the walls. I can even lift weights naked now because we finally have some curtains up. Huzzah!

Oooh just stepping inside the flat after work these days makes me shudder with multiple geekgasms; there's a place for everything and everything's in its place! I can flop down on the couch knowing I won't get a remote control stuck up my arse because they're safely nestled in the designated Remote Control Bowl. Joy!

It may sound like I am exaggerating the positive effect of a good spring cleaning, but it really has put me in a positive, productive frame of mind. I feel calm and sane, it's great not having to waste so much energy on domestic minutiae. This mood has carried over to my Lard Busting Mission, where I'm still chugging along nicely. I did all my exercise last week and ate well. The scales showed a small loss, but my clothes are fitting like a dream and I have loads more energy. I am desperate to blast the last of my blubber but I am not going to set deadlines or crazy targets. Consistency, focus and hard work over time without extremes - that is best for my body and more importantly for my mental health.

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Dude, winter! It sucks.

Well, it has its advantages. Like hiding under layers of clothing. There was a total of one day this summer that I had to Get My Legs Out in public. One DAY it was hot enough for a skirt. 26 bloody degrees. You almost forget you even have legs living in Scotland. Of course, you get the skanky types that put their pale and mottled pins in a mini-kilt in January, but if you're a shy thing like me you can get away with jeans all year round. It wasn't til I was back in Australia that I remembered how loathsome and doughy my thighs are. It is much easier being fat in a cold climate.

One disadvantage of winter is that the sun doesn't rise til 9am and it sets about 4pm. I leave for work at 6.30am and get home at 5.30 - 6pm, so I live in a world of darkness. You can see how this sucks if you want to be a runner. Especially when the local council doesn't turn on the lights in the lovely big local park and running on the pavement makes your knees hurt and that's if/when the pavement isn't bloody icy. I still have the weekend, but that's not enough. I need to add in some treadmill runs. This worries me though as my knee still isn't 100%. Despite my beautiful new running shoes my knee has resumed with the crunchy noise and never feels quite right when I run. I could do 75 RPM or Body Combat classes and not feel a twinge, but after one or two runs the knee protests again. I need to revisit the exercises the physio gave me and worker hard on my leg strength. I wasn't consistent enough with it before. Bad me.

I was ranting about the winter weather dilemma in an email to the amazing running guru Julia, and among her repsonse she said, If you're not that into running it's really difficult to get any enthusiasm up for it during the winter.

This really got me in the guts and I've been thinking about it all day. I so desperately want running to work for me. Why? Just the memory of that 5k race and how the months of effort culminated in that amazing feeling of achievement. I love how running is about self-discipline and gut-busting effort. I love how I hate most every step of a running session but get such a thrill when I've finished it. But am I really into it?

I've been going back to Body Combat classes lately, and while I enjoy the kicking and punching, I don't hate it like I hate running. And that is disappointing. I don't get that feeling halfway through the class of, "I can't do this! I am going to die! It's too much!". THAT is how I measure a good workout these days - whether or not I feel that perverse physical and mental pain. Body Combat feels a little girly now, to be honest. On the other hand. I hate my RPM (spinning) class just as much as running. I watch the clock during every song, feeling my quad muscles prickle and scream, glaring at the instructor and wanting to cry. It's only 45 minutes but you can push hard and make it burn like hell. I loathe it, but that is what I love about it. Does that make any sense?

So we've established I like the idea of pushing yourself to physical and mental limits, which is something I discovered via my forays into running. But I don't know if I am into running or just the idea of running/ being a runner. I loved the whole process of learning about it -- being virtually trained by Julia, the planning and routines, the magazines and books, the web forums and shoe guides. But the actual running? The long-suffering Scottish Companion could attest to my tedious bitching about every single step, which almost overshadowed the post-run euphoria. And with this on-again off-again knee problem, I question my commitment with my reluctance to spend money on physio or orthotics or whatever it would take to get it sorted. And I know if I was really into running, I would buy some crazy winter snow-proof running shoes and thermal pants and strap a torch to my forehead and go out running in the winter dark.

Am I just making excuses? Am I just not into it? Am I just a casual summer runner? Am I a whingey, lazy bastard or is it just not for me? I will have to get back to you on that one.

Blessed Are The Listmakers

Righto. Let's get on with it.

As always I'm squirming after writing such an emotive entry. Do you people realise how lucky you are? (Insert smirk here.) Because year after year I keep letting it all hang out for the masses, documenting every bad mood, every tantrum and ill-considered rant despite the fact so many people are watching, many of whom I know.

It's a love/hate relationship with blogging. Each entry is a snapshot of a sliver of time in which you might not necessarily be at your most articulate. You put it out there then leave yourself vulnerable to all sorts of feedback. And quite often by the time you hit the Publish button, you've written yourself out of the crappy mood anyway.

Nevertheless, it's invaluable to have a record of a rollercoaster journey. You can see the patterns of behaviour. For example, you can see parallels in my recent behaviour to how I felt two months after I moved to Scotland - bleak thoughts, overwhelmed, unmotivated, hopeless, teary, excessive self-pity... excessive self-deprecation to disguise the self-pity. Back then I quickly identified this as potential depression, going on my previous episodes. But because I caught it so early on, I kicked into preventative action right away.

The night I posted the last entry, I couldn't sleep and was just lay there doing that crying-quietly-in-the-dark thing and wondered what the hell to do. I felt the fog was rolling in and I didn't have control of my life or emotions. I considered going to the doctor and asking for anti-depressants. I wanted to wave the white flag and cry, Yep, I'm back down here again. Someone please help me back up!

But then I realised why I felt so goddamn awful. I simply stopped looking after myself. I'd let a few weeks of holiday indulgence drag on for another three weeks once I got back home. After that one jetlagged Body Pump class, I'd only done two more classes in three weeks. I ate a tonne of chocolate and toast and cheese and assorted crap. Yes, I was feeling so miserable to be back in Scotland and all the issues in the last entry -- but I had exacerbated and prolonged the problem by letting my physical health slip.

That may sound simplistic to you, but this is how it works for me. My mental and physical health go hand in hand. After much trial and error I finally figured out that regular exercise and healthy eating were just as effective for me as the loony pills. Actually, more so. As soon as I am looking after my body and getting the happy chemicals flowing, I am able to cope with challenges. It clears the fog, instantly boosts my self esteem, helps me see solutions to problems, and gives me the energy to take action.

So I wasn't going to surrender. I'd caught it early again and I knew what I had to do. The more you know yourself, the quicker you can fix yourself.

Sunday afternoon I went for a run with the Scottish Companion. Good lord, I was shite! I've barely run at all since the Race of Life 5k in June because of my knee injury. At 4.30pm it was already dark and freezing and they hadn't turned the lights on in the park. But we walk/ran for fifty minutes, me huffing and puffing and trying to find the light button on my stopwatch. After awhile I was so hot, my skin burned and I had to take my gloves off. But it was fucking brilliant! Aside from an occasional dog walker, the park was quiet and empty. I just lost myself in the sensation of making my body do what it's meant to do. Running is such a sensual experience compared to being in the gym with a squawky instructor. It's all fresh air, trees, icy wind blasting your face, screaming muscles, and the amazing feeling and rhythm of your legs just striding out over and over.

And it totally worked. Fifty minutes and I felt like my mojo was back.

I'm determined to get things in order. For the past three years I've used small Moleskine journals as an organiser, writing down all my lists of things to do, goals, recipes, story ideas, overhead conversations, travel details, important numbers in one handy place. I'd just filled my third up last week, so I've got a brand new empty one. It's all rather symbolic, yo. The last one covers August 2004 til now, including trips to the Baltic States, Spain, USA, Australia, plus 5k training notes, journalist's phone numbers and three weddings worth of To Do lists. Looking back through my scribbles I know it was the most incredible year-and-a-bit of my life. As many of you commented, I have had some non-fat achievements. But now I have a new book and all those empty pages to fill with new goals, ideas and adventures.

On the first page I've already made a list of all sorts of things I want to do, both specific goals and lofty dreams.

It was an all-action weekend, really. We have been DIY-ing like mofos to turn our spare room into a study. The Scottish Companion works from home, but his office has been the couch. Which means there's no separation of his home/work lives, leading to major frazzlement. And also, I've been longing for a quiet space to shut the door and do some writing when his pals are over. SO, we painted the walls, bought a desk and bookshelves and big leather executive chair that looks like the kind of thing an movie villain would sit in and stroke a fluffy cat.

The transformation wasn't a quick process, especially when SC forgot the 5-litre paint pot was sitting on top of the step ladder when he moved it, launching Dulux Natural Straw all over the door, wall, ceiling and the one patch of carpet we hadn't covered. Oh yeah, and on SC's head and crotch (HILarious!). But the hard graft was deeply satisfying in a nerdly DIY sort of way. It's finally starting to feel more like our home, instead of me just visiting SC's Grotty Student Digs. Now I can't to settle down and get on with my writing goals.

So things are looking up, huzzah!

Nutrition Nerds Unite!

Ooh I just had a great brekkie. It was my usual combination of oats (uncooked), pumpkin and sunflower seeds, Yeo Valley yogurt and chopped banana, except this time I chucked some blueberries in as well, since the little blue bastards were actually on sale this week instead of costing approximately £1 per berry! I stirred all this stuff until it became one chunky, vomitous clump then chomped away quite happily with the occassional blueberry pleasantly exploding with superhealthy antioxidant goodness. Sweeeeeeeeeeet.

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That blueberry link was from the World's Healthiest Foods site, which aside from Krista's Weights page is probably the best site I've ever found for lard-busting advice and ideas. While I may eaten whole jars of Nutella with a spoon in the past, these days I am a nutrition nerd and love learning about vitamins and essential fatty acids and so-called superfoods. This site is an invaluable tool if you want to learn more about the benefits of eating healthy whole, REAL foods instead of your crazy-processed LF FF NF Cheezy Stikz or Diet Lite Choco-Crunch or Reduced Carb Pasta or whatnot.

The site has an exhaustive A - Z list of the World's Healthiest Foods, with detailed nutritional info per serving. Not just about calories, but vitamins and minerals. For example take kale, the under-appreciated leafy green. It's got vitamin A, vitamin C, fibre, calcium, potassium, iron, folate and magnesium... and bazillions of other healthy shit. Ooh, geekgasm! There are also recipes, menu plans and best of all the Food Advisor quiz, where you can answer a few questions about what you eat and it tells you where your diet may be lacking (eg. possible vitamin deficiencies) and what percentage of foods you are eating from the WHF list.

I took the test again today and this week I am eating 88% WHF, no doubt boosted by all the goddamn birdseed I eat. This is good, but it also suggested  I need to eat more foods containing Vitamin B12, D and E. So I just click on the little link and it tells me a bunch of suitable foods. Easy peasy. Improving my diet  looks as simple as adding an egg and perhaps a serve of meat. Plus I ain't eating enough greens. If you have five minutes to take the test, it's really worth it. Be brutally honest in your answers because it really helps you to see areas you could improve on.

I am sorry if the above has bored your pants off, but if you're a fellow nutrition nerd you may just get a nice warm feeling in your naughty areas by spending some quality time on that site.

. . .

One year ago I wrote about buying my first pair of running shoes. You can relive the grand melodrama here, but basically it took me three attempts and a few tears before I actually got inside the store. Why? Because I was bloody intimidated by the idea of running, thinking I didn't belong and my lardy arse would be laughed out of the shop. The saleslady was actually very helpful and patient, but I was so flustered that I ended up grabbing a random pair coz I was freaking out and not wanting her to watch me run up and down the shop again. Big mistake.

It wasn't until April this year that I actually started training properly. Initially things were okay but always felt some discomfort with the shoes. I chalked it up to them not being worn in yet, but after about six weeks my right knee was causing serious pain. When I finally sat down and tried to figure out the cause, I realised that my shoes really did not fit me properly. They were just totally bloody wrong for my feet. The toes on my right foot would shove up against the front of the shoe when I ran. My feet oozed over the sides of the shoe as they weren't wide enough. In fact, the sides of the shoe were starting to split.

But I didn't have the time or funds for a new pair of shoes, so after couple weeks of no running and copious leg exercises, I did the 5k race in the shitty shoes. Weeks of EVIL eeeeeevil knee pain followed. I couldn't run at all, I had to drop all my weights for squats and lunges. Stairs were a nightmare. So I ended up going to the physio, and after six weeks of exercises and RPM, my knee finally felt okay again. So last Friday I finally went back to the running store!

What a difference from a year ago. This time I charged right into the shop and felt comfortable, like I had every right to be there. Gone was the nausea and trembling fear, huzzah! I spoke to the same chick as last time and explained I'd bought these shoes from her but I'd done so far too quickly and didn't get the right ones, because I'd been an absolute beginner and quite scared by the idea of buying running shoes. She gave me a puzzled look, as if I'd told her I was scared of kittens or chocolate bars. Who'd be afraid of that?

But anyway. I showed her my old shoes and she agreed that while they were the right style (some motion control) they were totally wrong fit for my feet. They were way too small and narrow. So she started dragging out a bazillion boxes of shoes. She said it would be a lot of trial and error as I belonged to "quite a specific niche" of the shoe market. My feet are very wide, I overpronate and my right foot is bigger than the left. I tried over a bloody dozen pairs. The more popular breeds were too narrow or didn't feel like they were giving me any support. I tried some mens shoes but they felt too heavy. Arrgh. Too narrow! Too soft! Too heavy! It was like Goldilocks and the Three Bazillion Shoes.

The same thing happened last year, and I'd sat there surrounded by shoe boxes trying not to hyperventilate. But this time I was calm and patient. I'd lace up each different pair then run up and down the shop without having to be asked, letting her watch my ass blobbing along. I was so focused on finding The Right Pair that I did not give a shit what my thighs looked like, nor did I freak out at all the skinny chicks cluttering up my path as they shopped for tiny running shorts. I just ran around them! I was not going to waste my time or money with crappy shoes.

I ended up with Brooks Addiction 6, whatever that means. All I know is my big fat foot finally feels nestled and nutured. I've done two runs this week and walked round in them heaps and they fit like a dream. No blisters, no toenail grating. When I put these on I am amazed at what a dimwit I'd been to put up with the old pair. I still feel the odd twinge in the knee, so for now I am just taking it easy, running on grass and avoiding hills for the moment. I'll see how it goes.

The point of all this is just to show you what damage you can do by Thinking Like A Fat Chick. A year ago I thought I didn't bloody deserve decent shoes. I was wasting the saleslady's time. People Like Me did not belong in running stores. So I grabbed a random pair just to get out of there.

What bullshit! Just because you're not bloody Beethoven doesn't mean you're not allowed to buy a piano. Just because you're not Michael Schumacher doesn't mean you shouldn't drive a car. THEREFORE, just because you're not Paula Radcliffe doesn't mean you don't deserve shoes that don't fit. My misguided fatty fat fat self-beliefs ended up contributing to a really shitty injury and expensive physio. I am not saying my knee problems were entirely caused by ill-fitting shoes - my pain really kicked in after I accidentally ran 20 minutes too long coz I didn't read Julia's instructions properly - but they were certainly a major problem.

I often get emails from people asking how to get into running, so here is what I have learned in my very limited experience. We all know I am still an absolute beginner with guidance from the lovely Mistress Julia. However, please take it from someone who has hobbled round for a month, if you seriously want to make running part of your exercise regime, PLEASE take the time and expense to go to a proper running store and get some proper shoes. Your smelly old cross trainers will not do. Get someone to watch you trot around to see if your feet do anything wacky. This is particularly good advice if you're heavy and have not run at all before. Running is a total shock to a body that's used to just sittin' round or the occasional swish on the elliptical machine. Running is high impact stuff. If you're a total beginner, ease into it with a simple plan like Couch To 5k and stick to it precisely. Allow your fitness to build steadily - don't skip ahead or add sessions or run further until it says to. So many people start C25K then burn out after three or four weeks coz they thought they could do more but wound up injured. Be patient and give your body time to adjust. I learned the hard way (crap shoes, accidentally increasing distance) and really wish I'd listened to my body more. So be kind to your bodies, groovers.

Arrgh! I promised never to be preachy on here. Yikes! Anyway, now I will climb off the pulpit and wish you all a tops weekend!

Going for Gold

Statistically, I seem to run best when it's raining or a Sunday. Living in Scotland means there's a one in seven chance of this happening. Yesterday was pouring, so I was optimistic that things would go okay!

I admit I felt a little overwhelmed and under prepared. I'd been training consistently for ten weeks, but little things threw me off. Like forgetting to bring my water bottle. Like waiting til the night to decide what to wear and finding nothing clean, thus having to wear whatever was the least stinky. Like not having safety pins to attach my race number to my t-shirt.

Who the hell has safety pins? My mum, my granny, my supremely organised sister: they have safety pins. I do not have safety pins. Do you think I could find any in the shops on Saturday afternoon? Nooo. I even tried pinning the number with some of those dinky rock band badges to no avail. Finally the Scottish Companion had the brainwave of stapling it on. This took around half an hour and our combined brain power to figure out. It is very difficult to staple a piece of paper onto thick cotton with a flimsy stapler; difficult to do it straight and difficult to avoid stabbing your boobs.

But it didn't matter in the end. It was raining so steadily that I ended up my shitty waterproof jacket over the top so you couldn't see the number anyway. The rain seemed to make the crowd even more loopy. It was a great atmosphere, no one was taking it too seriously. There were runners and walkers of all shapes and sizes; many with little pink signs on the back of their shirts with names of loved ones they'd lost to cancer. Every time I'd see someone with My Mum or Auntie Josephine on their backs I'd get a little teary. Except when I saw a wee girl with Kylie Minogue written on her back, I just cracked up laughing.

The rain came down even harder as we were lead through some warm-up aerobics. The water combined with 7000 women jumping up and down made big fat earthworms wash up to the surface. It was surreal. Then the race start was slightly delayed by a guy getting on stage to propose to his girlfriend. Creative, eh?

Finally it was time to line up. They had two big flags, one said Runners and the other Walkers. At first I thought there was going to be a middle-ground Joggers flag, but it was nowhere to be found. This sparked an existential debate with the Scottish Companion as to whether I was a Runner or a Walker.

"You haven't been just walking these past ten weeks, have you?" he reasoned.

But I was having a last-minute panic and argue, "But I'm not exactly a runner, am I? I can't run for longer than five minutes without feeling like I'm going to cark it!".

He told me to just go join the runners and wished me luck. I gave him a kiss on his wet nose and scampered off. By then it was so crowded I ended up near the walkers, beside a girl dressed in a Batman suit. I was so bewildered by the crowd and the rain that I didn't think to be nervous, just a faint notion that something exciting was about to happen. Somewhere in the distance the start horn thingy went off. It took five minutes to inch my way to the start line, then I hit the timer on my stop watch. Go go go!

It was then my trance broke and I panicked, What the hell!? What the hell!? What am I doing here?! Everywhere I looked there were legs and arms and numbers and puddles. I am not so good in crowds. Julia had advised me to start out slow so I wouldn't fade at the end, so I did a very slow jog, ducking around walkers and water. Then the course headed up a hill and I thought Holy fuck. Bloody hills. Better not waste energy weaving around people. So I alternated fast walking with the slow jogging. Then I noticed that after that hill there was another, steeper hill. Bugger.

It was then I started to get cranky. Disclaimer: I was cranky already, my period arrived that morning. HOO-BLOODY-RAY for the feeling of piranhas gnawing your guts! So I was cursing the stupid hill and my stupid slow legs and the thousands of stupid runners cluttering up the road. It felt like it was taking forever. All I could think was, What's so great about this running shit? Why do people rave on about it like it was so damn special? I recalled a comment Meg left on my last entry. She said I would love it! She said it changed the way she thought about herself forever. Well as I slugged up the hill I thought, YOU LIE, MEG! I DO NOT LOVE IT! It felt like I would never get up the top of that stinking hill, and furthermore I had seen no kilometre markers so I had no idea how far I'd gone or how far I had left to go. Bah!

Finally the course evened out and after a minute's walk, I picked up the pace again. I began to relax. I acknowledged the view - a spectacular panorama of Edinburgh. Then some guy was shouting from the sidelines, "You've just passed the halfway mark, girls!"

Halfway?! Arrgh!

I looked at my watch and wasn't too impressed with my time. Julia had told me not to worry about my time today, it was just about finishing the damn thing. But I felt slightly disheartened. It was then I gave myself a wee pep talk. Why are we here, Dietgirl?

1. Because my excellent sponsors have given over £300 to cancer research and they deserve value for money.
2. Because my husband trained with me all this time and I don't want him thinking I've wasted his time.
3. Because Mistress Julia has helped me so much and I want to impress her and make her proud.
4. Because I have worked hard and I want to impress ME and make ME proud, dammit!

And I wouldn't be satisified with taking forever to huff over the finish line either. I wanted to finish as strongly as I possibly could. I'd worked for ten weeks to get to this point, and it would never be My First Race ever again. I'd done some pretty half-assed runs in that ten weeks, so now I was going to stop the whining and bitching. No more bullshit! Just GO FOR GOLD!

I kicked up to a nice steady run. I reassured the lazy part of my brain that I could walk any time, but since the first half had been relatively slow I found that I had plenty of energy left. For the first time ever I really felt like I was cruising, that it was a perfectly natural thing for my body to be running. I found a steady rhythm and my breathing was good, not my usual desperate gasps for life.

The rained stopped and I wrestled off my crappy jacket, somehow tying it round my waist as I headed down the hill. I kept talking to myself, Just run one more minute then you can walk if you need to. But I just kept on running and it felt great.

And there was finally a sign - 500M TO GO. Holy crap! 500 metres! How far is 500 metres, I wondered? Ten laps of an Olympic pool. Ooh that sounds like ages, don't think of it like that. Half a kilometre, that sounds ages too. Okay then. How about one and a bit laps of the running track. Hey that's not so bad! I can handle that! So I took it up another notch. I have no idea where that energy came from but I'd never run so fast before. It felt fantastic!

As I approached the finish line I started grinning. I couldn't help it, I would have giggled had I had enough breath left. I was just so surprised to be there. Grin grin grin. When I finally crossed it I suddenly felt a big sob sneak up to my throat. What the hell?!

I glanced at my watch - 35:15. I could not believe that time. Ten weeks ago I could barely run for one minute, yet I'd just run over half the course non-stop. I was euphoric. I, Dietgirl formerly of the Whole Pints Of Ice Cream In One Sitting, had finished a 5k race. It felt amazing! Meg wasn't lying to me after all! Bless her cotton socks.

I got my goodie bag and scanned the crowds for SC, wandering around in a daze with trembling legs. It was the strangest mix of emotions I'd ever known. I began making these garbled, gulping, strangled chicken noises - this is what happens when you try and cry and get your breath back at the same time. It is physically impossible.

By the time I finally found SC I had my breath back so I was able to just sob uncontrollably on his shoulder. The poor bastard look very confused. Blame my hormones, blame relief and surprise and intense personal satisfaction, but I was crying for Scotland!

Later on I felt embarrassed by my hysterics. After all it was Just A 5k. It wasn't even a proper race, it was a charity event. And people run marathons all the time, hell they run across continents or sail around the world blindfolded with one arm chopped off! I was all ready to downplay the whole day and dismiss it as a freak accident of nature and stomp out any sense of achievement. But as I've reminded myself countless times during my Lard Busting Journey, you can't compare your achievements to someone elses. All you can do is compare where you've been and where you are now, and what you chose to do in between.

I also remembered a day back in January 2001 when I'd stood at the bottom of the stairs in my flat, trying to summon the energy to walk up the dozen steps to get to my bedroom. That had felt like an impossible task. Compare that to yesterday when I stood at the bottom of a FREAKY BIG HILL and running to the top seemed an impossible task. There's no denying that 5k was a huge personal achievement.

I cannot express to you how amazing it felt to do something that I thought I never, ever could do. I am so grateful to Julia for helping me, to SC for patiently training with me, and to all you groovers for your encouragement and extremely generous donations. This may sound ridiculous but I am more emotional about yesterday than I was on my freaking wedding day! There is no better feeling in the world than to take your mind and body to some place you thought it couldn't go; a place you thought it didn't belong. You should all try it sometime.

Whore-A-Lot

The Race for Life is SUNDAY! Oh my blood gawd! How did that get here so quickly!?

After my usual grumpy start, I was euphoric at the end of Wednesday night's running session. There was a 5k race in our park last weekend so we'd followed the race route to see if I was capable of making the distance. And I did! Sure it wasn't much faster than if I'd walked the whole thing, but the ground had been covered. I was over the moon. We were just walking home when a swarm of Running Club people went by. Their leader suddenly jogged over to me and said, "Hi, I'm from JogScotland. We run clinics in the park all the time and in case you're interested in some company, we're starting another one next week."

"Oh, that's okay, I'm - "

"Beginners are welcome! Even if you can only run thirty seconds! Or less!"

Chit chat, chit chat, and off he went. SC and I were in hysterics. Thirty seconds OR LESS?! I'd just done forty! This is what happens when your face goes flaming red when you run. Or when you're snailishly slow. People assume you're in dire need of help. Hehe.

Speaking of help, if you'd like to help the very worthy cause of Cancer Research UK, you may wish to sponsor me for Sunday's race. You can donate online with a credit or debit card. Even if you're outside Britain, one tiny little pound would be a huge help. It all adds up very quickly! I've raised £160 so far and it's really helping to motivate my lardy arse. Thanks, groovers!

...

I gained 100 grams this week. As my old Weight Watchers weigh-lady used to say, "You could have peed that out!".

A week of healthy eating and exercise was blemished by Black Friday. I'd already eaten my yogurt, banana and seeds for brekkie; but for some reason I thought it would be good idea to buy a scone from the Hot Roll Guy at work. It was half-stale but I still ate 3/4 of it! What a pork! Then one of my colleagues brought in Cakes and there was the irresistible Marks & Spencer Caramel Shortcakes. I calculated I'd have enough calories and fat grams left to afford one piece. So I ate it, and I loved it. But then I had another one. And a chocolate mini-roll. Yikes.

Then Friday night the Scottish Companion and I went out with an old school friend of his and the friend's wife. There must have been some residue of being nervous about meeting new people, because I slammed down a glass of white wine very quickly. A large glass. And I don't even like white wine. Good lord, it went straight to my head. We headed to the pub where I proceeded to tackle another glass.

Then someone decided we should shoot some pool. My problem was I'd never played pool before. I may have been drunk, and I may be The New Dietgirl Who Doesn't Care What People Think, HOWEVER having a big stick in my hand and being asked to do something sporty is quite a different story. I am bad at following instructions at the best of times, but while slumped over a green felt table makes it even more challenging. But I managed to sink a few balls. I was distraught coz I put a red ball in the pocket when I'd been aiming for the yellow. My teammate was cheering, I asked why? BECAUSE WE WERE THE RED TEAM, that's why. Oh. Lucky fluke!

Anyway we went back to their house and it was suggested us ladies do that old WW chestnut, the white wine spritzer. Because clearly we needed to slow down. I was sent into the kitchen to get the tonic water. Only by this stage properly mobility had deserted me, so I had to crawl on my hands and knees. I was not thinking straight. Which could explain why I thought it was a great idea when the wife put some pizza and some crispy duck pancakes in the oven for a midnight snack. I had two pieces of pizza and three little pancakes. When I woke up Saturday morning feeling quite unwell, there were six Cadbury Roses wrappers in the pocket of my jeans. Good lord.

This is why I so rarely drink. Eurrrgh! Sure I had a fun time on Friday but I hated the fatty bloated stinky feeling that came afterward. Next time I will stick to my gin and tonics as I am able to stay conscious on those. White wine is the devils liquid!

So anyway, I ate and exercise angelically for the rest of the week which is how I managed to get away with a 100g gain.

. . .

I partially blame The Compliments. I can't remember the last time someone noticed I'd lost weight, but last week it happened twice. I let it go to my head and I think it had a lot to do with my slackarse eating. First a colleague said something nice, then on Thursday SC was outside talking to the girl who lives upstairs. He soon came running back in, "Hee hee! You'll never guess what just happened.". Apparently the boyfriend of the girl who lives upstairs had observed from his kitchen window that SC and I have been regularly trotting out to the park and he remarked, "SC's girlfriend has lost a whore a lot o' weight!".

I had to get SC to repeat that sentence about six times because I couldn't understand the garbled Scots accent, it just sounded like hooraloddawheet to me. Apparently the guy also told her, "Whatever she is doing, you should do it too!" in reference to the size of her butt. This guy spends his life pulling apart cars and putting them back together again, so I must admit I was delighted that a slightly chauvinistic creature thought I was shrinking. It seems so much more valid if a beefy bloke notices, as opposed to a sensitive mother or considerate husband. Does that make any sense?

Mints of Satan

Things I have learned this week:

1. SMINTS are evil
I thought I'd get a wee box of mints to distract my tastebuds between meals at work. I try to avoid them coz of all the weird ingredients but I was really horrified to read the label and see they contain hydrogenated vegetable oil! That evil gloop in something so tiny and innocent as mint? Is nothing sacred?

2. Don't eat a whole tin of baked beans for lunch
Especially when you're at work. We get our groceries delivered Monday afternoon so sometimes we've run out of stuff by Monday morning. The salad stuff had died so all I had was a wholemeal pita and one tin of beans. OH GOD. I had to keep running from the room to fart. Then I'd let one out now and then as I walked home. Luckily the streets were deserted, or had I just killed everyone with my vile fumes? Hmm.

3. My reading comprehension skills are shite
When I go running I write Julia's instructions on a post-it note. Last Sunday's schedule included 15 x run 2' walk 1'. But I wrote down run 15 x 3' walk 1'. So that adds up to an extra fifteen minutes, which may not sound like a lot but when you're starting from absolute zero in terms of running fitness and slowly building up - this was huge. We'd also been on a two-hour hike earlier that day. I somehow managed to do it, plus the extra 1km straight run after that, but my legs were absolute jelly and I was so red-faced it lasted for hours and SC's parents thought I had severe sunburn. I was hobbling around all week. Only the next day did I realise I'd written the instructions wrong. D'oh!

My right leg, particularly my knee and shin, has been giving me trouble ever since. It comes and goes but whenever I started to run, go up and down hills or stairs it would hurt. Felt sort of grindy and weird. I've had twinges there since I started this whole running thing, but I didn't know (and still don't) if it was classed as soreness, a slight ache or outright pain. I've never been good at judging pain. Growing up on a farm there was no place for wimps, so if I told Mum I had a sore leg she'd say, "Okay, I'll cut it off for you!". She wouldn't let us have a day off school unless we were, quote, "Dead or dying".

So I tend to ignore aches and pains, but this has backfired on me over the years. Like a few years ago ignored my aching shoulder and forearm to the point where I could not move my arm at all and I was bawling from pain. I didn't want to wimp to my boss that the mouse and repetitive web work had struck me down but in the end I had to have time off work and months of physiotherapy for something that could have been okay if treated earlier. Sigh. So anyway now I am consulting with Julia and have rested the past two days except for a Pump class and today is Active Rest with a stint on the stationery bike. Hopefully I haven't royally screwed things up.

4. Brown basmati rice rules!
I like zapping some leftover rice, then stirring in some extra-virgin olive oil, black pepper, lemon juice, Herbamare and a wee tin of tuna. For some reason that all goes together beautifully. I wish I could just live off dishes like that. You know, random things chucked in a pot.

5.  It's time for new jeans
My jeans are sufficiently baggy to pass the Put Them On Without Needing To Undo The Zip And Button test. Woohoo! It has taken so long! I bought these stinking jeans in November 2003. I've decided to put off the purchase until July when my sister and friends will be visiting for the wedding party; that way I can shape up a bit more and buy the best fit possible. Huzzah!

. . .

So this week I've either lost 0.7 kilos if you go down from two weeks ago, or lost 2.3 kilos if you count it from the Freaky Bloatfest of last week. I put a fresh battery in the scale since it started flashing Lo! on Monday so it should be accurate. I am really happy with the result and just goes to show, if you don't eat biscuits with your cup of tea IT ACTUALLY MAKES A DIFFERENCE! If I just stop before snacking and ask, "Do I need this? Could I choose something healthier?", it actually adds up to less calories consumed and better results. Well, derr!

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week Nineteen

last update: 25 May 2005

age: 27
height: 173cm (5'8")

original start weight: 159.2 kg (351 lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4

fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2

current weight: 86.2 kg (190 lb)
current bmi: 28.9

result this week: -0.7 kg (1.5 lb)

loss in 2005: -9.7 kg (21.3 lb)
total loss since 2001: -73 kg (160.9 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to goal: 11.2 kg  (24.7 lb)

The Little Blog of Calm

Last Saturday afternoon I went to a gathering of Scottish bloggers. It was a ridiculously warm and sunny day in Edinburgh, why it may have even been twenty degrees. I rocked up to the pub with a friend and had a startling realisation that I wasn't nervous.

A few years ago I'd never meet a bunch of strangers. Hell, I'd rarely meet my own friends at the pub. I used get so worked up for days beforehand, tears and tantrums at the thought of taking my fat out in public. What would I wear? Would I fit on the chairs? But now here I was strutting up to strangers, plonking down on a bench and introducing myself.

I'd soon knocked back a gin and tonic but the self-assurance was still there. It just hit me... I don't care what these people think of me. I don't care if they think I'm fat or badly dressed or unfunny or whatnot. I was happy to be me, so I didn't need anyone else to be happy with me. It was such a rush to feel like this, just calm and comfortable; a million miles away from the girl who ran (waddled) away from her own graduation ball, told her friends she was "popping home for five minutes" then locked herself in her flat with the lights out and gorged on ice cream by the light of the television.

Last Monday night I got on the scales and they screamed 90.4 kilos! That's a massive 3.5 kilos up from the last Wednesday Weigh-In. What the bloody hell? I re-weighed half a dozen times to be sure. I called in the Scottish Companion and got him to weigh himself in case the scales were wrong. He was 75kg as always. I thought of all the things I'd eaten last week, and there were a few dodgy bits. Two gin and tonics, a mozzarella and parma ham pannini, a buttered scone, plus an evil Chinese takeaway the night before. I'd got mine with boiled rice instead of fried; but it was white rice and knowing Scotland it was probably boiled in LARD.

"I still don't see how that could make you gain eight pounds in 5 days! What about all your running?" SC protested, trying to reassure me; "Only newborn babies stack on weight that quick. Or whales, maybe."

What surprised him, and me too, was that I just laughed. No tears or tantrums. I knew it was impossible to gain 3.5 kilos of fat in five days. I knew I'd been exercising like a mofo and I'd eaten healthily apart from those social occasions. I knew I was on the right track.

"I'm not going to worry about it," I told him, "I probably just haven't properly digested all that shite food yet. The only thing that annoys me is that I didn't gain it eating something I really liked so it would almost be worthwhile! Like a honking huge block of chocolate!"

I'm really surprising myself lately at how sane and balanced I feel. About food, about exercise, about life in general. I am moving towards habits that are a lifestyle instead of my past extreme Feast Or Famine behaviour. I ate well during the week, but I went out for lunch with friends and enjoyed it, I had a takeaway with my hubby and enjoyed it, I had a couple drinks with the Blog Geeks and enjoyed it. And I exercised regularly. This is called living your life, folks.

I now realise this is the same approach I used earlier this year when trimming down for the wedding - I lost over 6 kilos in 6 weeks while still eating out at least once a week. At the time I thought I was being Hardcore™, but in reality I was just finally exercising regularly, being careful about what I ate without cutting out food groups or going to extremes. That way I never felt deprived or like I was missing out. After a year of yo-yoing the same five kilos, I finally got great results simply by taking a balanced approach.

And that's what I'm doing now. By Wednesday Weigh-In the scales had calmed down to 88.4 - still 1.5 kilos up from the week before, but again I didn't get hysterical. I resolved to make better food choices and to try looking at food as fuel rather than the centre of my universe. Example: I'd noticed my Wednesday night running sessions were always really rubbish, and realised I'd been eating extra on Wednesdays - like it "didn't count" coz it was post-weigh in. I didn't do that this week and the run felt so much better as a result.

Also, I need to remember that just because I trot around the park three times a week does not give me a licence to eat extra food. I'm not a bloody Olympic athlete, I'm not burning that many calories. So all week I've been ignoring the biscuit tin and the vending machine and feeling so much better for it.

Why the sudden zen calm on Planet Dietgirl? Why the sudden rush of self-esteem? The running has so much to do with it. It's given me a newfound respect for my body and mind. I feel calm, in control and balanced. 5k may not seem a lot to some, but I can honestly say learning to run is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Each session still sees me moaning and whining and aching and puffing but the sense of accomplishment at the end of the run is mindblowing. I am slow and awkward, and I know I'll need to walk/run the 5k rather than run the whole way, but I know I'll make it over the finish line somehow.

It amazes me how much things can change in two months. Despite my constant whinging I am proud of sticking to the lovely Mistress Julia's training schedule (thankyou!). It's something I thought I could never do but here I am doing it!

I am in awe of the ability of my mind and body to cope (eventually) with whatever challenges I throw at it. So how can I not feel good about that? Now I'm looking at other parts of my life in a more positive light, feeling better about being me and realising how much energy I used to waste worrying what strangers thought of me. No more.

Patience, Grasshopper

I've got no kids nor immediate plans to sprog up. Yet I'm always fretting about how I'd raise my non-existent brood to have healthy, non-screwy attitudes to food. Fig recently wrote a post called Young Hearts Be Free, (scroll down, it's the 26 April entry) all about how she talks to her kids about fat and exercise and moderation. It is a bloody good read and a responsible approach. There is all this kerfuffle in the news here about the quality school dinners at the moment, but there's plenty of other meals in the week aside from the school lunch.

What happens at home is so important in shaping attitudes. I remember my stepdad eating a white bread sandwich with margarine and CHOCOLATE FROGS inside it, and he'd say "Do as I say, not as I do." Yeah right, buddy! As soon as I'm outta here I'm eating all the chocolate frogs I want. But not in a sandwich because that's just wrong! Anyway, Fig's approach is a winner, I tells ya.

...

I have been thinking about Australia lately, feeling rather homesick. I can't wait to visit in October. I'm in two minds about where I'd like to live, long-term. Then Kimba left a comment in the last entry to say she saw Green & Blacks chocolate in the Oxfam shop today. It was $11 for a 100g block. Bloody hell! So this either means a) I never move home coz the G&B's is too expensive or b) I move home right away coz the G&B's is too expensive therefore I can never guts out on it. Hmmmm.

. . .

Patience, grasshopper. Think of the long term picture. This is the sort of twaddle I mutter to myself when there's weeks and weeks without significant changes in my bod or on the scale. It's what I say to soothe my whiny soul after bitching yet again to the Scottish Companion that I am bored with calorie counting, macronutrients, sports bras, whole grains, downward dogs and running. But the trick is to just hang on through these sucky go-nowhere weeks - and keep up the exercise and healthy food. Even when you are literally yelling and stomping on the kitchen floor, "WHY DOES THIS SUCK SO MUCH?".

Why? Because when you least expect it, POW, you will notice a whole bunch of changes all at once. This happened to me this week.

• Forced into the bowels of my wardrobe by a lack of clean clothes, I rediscovered some tops my sister had brought back from Australia in January. They were too tight then, but now they fit!
• My boa-constrictive Enell sports bra suddenly does up with great ease instead of feeling like it will crack my ribcage open
• After a year of little progress in these areas, I increased my tricep and bicep AND chest weights at Body Pump
• On noticing my legs suddenly felt a lot stronger, I got out the stopwatch and found I've shaved three minutes off my Walk To Work time
• On a grassy high school athletics track, I ran one kilometre as per Mistress Julia's instruction and did it in 6:09, which ain't Paul Radcliffe but it was well over a minute and a half faster than the last timed kilometre back in early April. Woo!
• Today's weigh-in saw a 0.6kg loss!

It's weeks like these that keep me going. Sometimes it's so tedious and boring but I know I have to be patient and consistent, and realise it takes time for the body and mind to find a rhythm. It's weeks like these and I want to push my body harder and further than ever before. Just purely to see what it could do. Woohoo!

. . .

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week Seventeen

last update: 11 May 2005

age: 27
height: 173cm (5'8")

original start weight: 159.2 kg (351 lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4

fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2

current weight: 86.9 kg (191.5 lb)
current bmi: 29.1

result this week: -0.6 kg (0.4 lb)

loss in 2005: -9.0 kg (19.8 lb)
total loss since 2001: -72.3 kg (159.3 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to goal: 11.9 kg (26.2 lb)

Letting The Lard Go

A measly loss of 100 grams this week. It's too tiny to bother with the statistics! I had a great week, exercise wise. But the eating came undone on Saturday (lunch AND dinner out on the town) and then I made Anzac biscuits on Sunday. I looove baking so bloody much and it felt so nice to be melting and stirring and dropping blobs of dough onto a tray, but unless I can give away ALL of the goods I am bound to end up eating a lot of it. Sigh.

Still, onward and downward. I will focus on the positives. Some of my clothes are swimming on me! My H&M pants that were so tight at Xmas you could see the outlines of the front pockets now require constant hitching up. And a size 16 cord jacket I bought before the wedding now actually fits properly. Huzzah!

...

As I mentioned before the Scottish Companion now knows about this site. But he has vowed not to read it. I didn't ask him to stay away; he just said that it's my private space and he's not going to intrude.

If the situation was reversed I'm not sure I would have been so polite and respectful. If he'd told me he used to be really fat and depressed and it was all online to read about, I'd HAVE to snoop around. I mean, to see photos of your spouse 70 kilos heavier? I would be consumed with morbid curiosity! Does that make me evil? I've checked the SC's browser history to see if he's wandered by, but he still hasn't. Bloody hell.

There's part of me that desperately wanted him visit and slog his way through the archives. I wanted him to see the hard evidence of how different I used to be. Not because I'm so proud and tra la la la happy about it and want to share the success, but so he had proper context. I've only made vague references to my lardy past, so if he visited here he would see how HARD it was, the dramatic changes that I had to make, to get the backstory about the Food Issues I still grapple with today.

A few weeks ago we were out running. Or more like he was running, and I was gasping for air and turning redder than my hair. I had that blind, white hot irration pre-menstrual RAGE coursing through my veins, sulking with every step. It was just so freaking hard, and we still had another 25 minutes to go (I need to write a whole other entry about how this running is really screwing with my mind, but I will just stick to this particular day for now). I was so cranky that we had to keep going for so freaking long; I was cranky that he was barely breaking a sweat while my own heart clobbered against my ribs. Cranky cranky cranky.

You know how twisted up a PMS-y mind can be. SC was jogging along sweet and supportive as ever, yet I was simmering. How rude to "make me" run AGAIN when we'd only run two days earlier! Didn't he realise how hard this was for me? Did he realise how much of a beginner I really was? Did he realise how hard it is to build up fitness when you started out so unfit you may as well have been comatose?

Suddenly I spluttered out of nowhere, "Did you know, I used to weigh twice as much as you do now. Puff puff puff. TWICE as much! I couldn't walk around the block! Puff puff puff. Just try and imagine that, two of YOU stapled together! Puff puff puff. That was me! So that's why this is really hard! And making me cranky!"

Well, I thought, That's him told!

I thought he would be stunned by the long-awaited revelation of Before statistic (and even then I undertold it by about 10 kilos - he weighs 75 kg; my highest weight was just shy of 160 kg). But he just said, "It doesn't matter what you used to weigh. The important thing is that you worked hard to change things and now you're just taking that to the next level!"

Bah! He was supposed to say, "Well that's huge! Good for you! So it must be a big deal for you to have even run this far today. So why don't we quit right now and go home and I'll make you a cup of tea and toast!"

Menstrual psychosis aside, can you see the underlying problem here? My perception of my body and physical abilities has still not caught up with the reality. I still see myself as this enormous chick who should be applauded for making the effort to waddle to work or stand up the back at a gym class.

But the reality is that I am no longer a Special Case. My husband sees me exactly as I am right now - just a chick who's taken up a new fitness challenge. But sometimes I am denial of this new reality. I know I am capable of pushing my body much further, exercise-wise - but part of me resents that I can/should/need to work so much harder now.

I can't keep clinging to this fat chick persona. I know deep down that my body has changed and it is capable of so much more these days. But even as I push myself hard with this 5k training, I still have these days where I feel like I am still The Fat Chick. The other day I was having coffee with the girlfriends of two of SC's friends, who are now becoming my friends. We're all madly into health and whole foods etc etc so we got together to drink herbal teas talked about quinoa and yoga and brazil nuts. Every time I'd pipe up with some healthy tip or idea I had this dark thought lurking that they were thinking, "Who is this big lump, thinking she knows all about health and fitness?".

I have this strange insecurity about my new friends. It's been so long since I've (non-online) female friends, aside from my sister; I've not really made any new female friends since I started losing weight. So when we're sitting around talking I feel shy and awkward and worry whether or not they like me. Which is ridiculous, since they are warm, intelligent women who would never be judgemental, and must think I am alright since they want to meet up every week. But sometimes I feel so strange, talking to women about women's things. I feel like I'm gatecrashing a slumer party. I've always been so private and closed up about this stuff, because it was all tied up with my weight. In the Fat Days I would sit there silent and smiling as my friends talked about boys and cute clothes, coz I felt like I didn't belong. But now I am fit and happy and I actually have a boy, yet I still feel like the fraudulent Fat Chick.

...

Eventually curiosity got better of SC and he asked me about the Before Statistic as we snuggled up that PMSy evening. "Did you really used to weigh 150 kilos?" he said, incredulous. He asked what life was like for me back then. He was really nice about things, his usual calm and sweet self, saying how proud he was of me. But I found myself feeling defensive and not wanting to talk about it at all. I just started crying there in the dark. I suddenly felt ashamed, like every one of those 70 kilos has reattached to my body. I imagined I was looking down at us the bed and there was this huge blubbery pile of me and a ridiculously tiny SC curled up behind.

Please don't write to say I should stop whining and appreciate what a gem of a man I have. I do realise this, and I let him know it. I love him so ferociously I can't even express it. Please remember this entry is about what was going through my PMSy head that day and how losing a stack of weight really mucks with your head sometimes. Crazy days.

Humph!

So I have been arguing with SC for the past hour why we SHOULDN'T go out running but it looks like I've lost. I tried to explain that I've got cramps, I need to cook dinner, I need to do some laundry and some writing. He just rolled his eyes. So I said WELL OKAY THEN, FINE! IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE ALL BOSSY ABOUT IT! So we're going out in ten minutes.

Why does exercise have to suck so much? Why can't I ever look forward to it! BAH!

. . .

8pm

Okay I'm back after completing the walk/run and still somehow we managed to cook some dinner. People often say, "Wow, you sure have gotten into the exercise. I'd love to be like that but I just don't have the time!" Can you really, truly look at all the minutes in your week and not even find twenty spare for a wee walk? It's more like, I don't wanna make time for exercise! I could be napping or reading a magazine or scratching my arse! I tell you, when I am in this pissy PMSy mood, I could list you ten thousand things I'd like to do before I chose to exercise.

I was speaking to my mother yesterday and she was late calling me coz she was out walking. This is my workaholic, ultimate martyr mother who always cried dramatically, "I don't even have time to bless myself!". Well she made a decision to get up half an hour earlier five days a week and walk with a friend. She's been doing it since November! Well I refuse to let her have one over me, so looks like I will just have to keep bloody exercising then. Bah.

(Sometimes I quite like exercise. Just not today. Hehe.)

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.

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week Ten

So I gained half a kilo this week - I'm up to 89.8kg. I am too miserable to be arsed posting the usual list of stats. It's not as fun when the number goes up!

There were a few days this week that I seemed to forget I was this overweight person who cannot get away with eating chocolate bars. I had not got organised with grocery shopping yet so I didn't have good snacks for work. Instead I made trips to the vending machine. I had Mars Bars, Twirls and this strangely addictive Kinder Bueno thing.

I was in serious denial on the weekend, in my Saturday entry I said I was feeling "vague and half-hearted" about weight loss. Vague and half-hearted is one way of putting it, but being a mindless sugar pig is another! Saturday afternoon, after joining the gym, I walked to a mini supermarket in search of olives and peppers for our pasta that night. There were no peppers and this tiny jar of olives for 89p. I got all huffy and resentful, the expensive olives being a metaphor for the utter shiteness of the town I now live in. I stomped around the shop looking for something to calm me down, and then I spotted the freezer.

"AH HA!" I thought, "There is the freezer, and in that freezer is ICE CREAM, that substance that I really wanted last week but didn't get! So now it will be mine!"

I bought one of those Mars Bar icecream bars, just to continue the Mars Bar theme of the week. It was "only" one bar, as opposed to a box, so I got another one of those Kinder Buenos in case I wasn't satisfied with the Mars Bar.

I was walking back home, halfway up the big hill when I remembered SC was there, and all his mates were over. So I stood there scoffing down this Mars Bar ice cream, lurking behind a tree like some pervert, putting the bar down every time a car went by so people wouldn't think I was the Greedy Fat Chick. I was so edgy that I didn't enjoy a single mouthful, then I had to squint into car windows to see if I'd left chocolate evidence on my mouth.

I got home and pretty much lurked in the bedroom all evening after saying hi to everyone. I read my book Running Made Easy while sneaking bites of the Kinder now and then, stashing the wrapper in my handbag.

I was struck by the ridiculousness of my behaviour. What the hell was I doing? Who was this benefiting? Was this how I wanted my married life to be? Clandestine chocolate bars and foil wrappers in my undie drawer for the rest of my days?

I think I am just feeling unnerved by of all the change going on at the moment. Don't get me wrong, I am over the moon to be married to SC, but the whole moving out to his place and giving up my old routines and favourite haunts has been harder than I expected. I didn't expect to feel so resentful. I hate having to come up with all new ways of doing things, especially in terms of weight loss - because as you know I had a cracker of a routine happening before the wedding, I had great losses and was making progress with my fitness. Now I am struggling to get the formula right. That said, scoffing down chocolate bars is NOT going to get me back on track. It's not rebellion eating, it's just dumb eating.

Sunday became Get My Shit Together Day. I know that only planning brings me success. So I finally ordered the groceries online, we now have a fridge full of healthy stuff. Then I emailled the lovely Mistress Julia about the 5k and she is going to send me a training plan. I decided not to wait around in the meantime - SC and I went out and did Week One Day One of the Couch to 5k programme. It was a bit rough, I found running outdoors with hills and winds so much harder than faffing on the treadmill - but I was glad I did it. SC could have gone a lot faster but he insisted on staying with me. He is so bloody sweet and encouraging, I love him to bits. His encouragement as I bitched and moaned and huffed and puffed made me feel guilty for the secret binge the day before.

Monday night I braved the new gym and went to Body Pump. It was four weeks since my last class but I am proud to say I didn't need to reduce any of my weights. I was in agony yesterday though, and my triceps are still killing today! And we're off for another walk/jog tonight. I still feel kinda shaky at the moment, all this new stuff seems to have dented my confidence for some reason. But I just have to keep doing these positive things. Putting down the chocolate bars, putting on the running shoes. I can do it.

Physical Challenge!

Kimba wrote yesterday about how she gets her best results when she's doing a Challenge. I realised after reading it that that's how I operate too. Those six weeks leading up to my wedding was really fuelled by Wedding Dress Fear. I remember saying here it was about the Big Picture and health and fitness and blah blah blah, but now I realise it was the deadline and specific timeframe really gave me the kick up the arse I needed. I was on fire! Since I got back from the States I've been eating well but have been kind of vague and half-hearted. I can attribute a bit of that to jetlag and the return of a rotten cold, yet I think the lack of specific focus is what's missing. I need a GOAL, baby!

So as of Sunday there's 11 weeks til the 5k Race for Life. That's a nice slab of time I think I can focus on without feeling overwhelmed. 11 weeks to get my lazy arse back to the gym, 11 weeks to eat well. Oh, and 11 weeks to learn how to run! Ha ha!

I got my Race for Life pack in the mail a few weeks ago and it was freaky! There was this piece of paper with a NUMBER on it that I am supposed to pin on my shirt then run this five kilometres. I know thousands of people can run 5k with their eyes closed, and you don't even have to run this one! It's for charity so you can just walk or jog or skid along on your arse if you want. But still, it made me nervous. But running in front of people? Taking it to the streets? My idea exercise scenario is a darkened basement, but I guess it's time to get over that Jiggling In Public fear. Yikes. I'll start hassling friends and family for sponsors soon - the more money I get pledged, the more I will be guilt-tripped into moving my butt.

So aside from that, I have to get my head around this whole being married palaver, or more to the point the cohabiting thing. I'm living at SC's house now, or should I say ours. It's a bit of an adjustment from living in my relatively inner city hood with fancy gym and abundance of food shops round the corner, including a health food grocer. But now the nearest supermarket is about half an hour's walk away, the return leg with grocery bags being uphill. There's a few smaller places about 15-20 mins walk but the selection on offer is pretty shithouse. Since we're car-less this can be a royal pain in the arse. There's no such thing as dashing in for a few ingredients for dinner. The advantage to THAT is it's much more difficult to go on a Spontaneous Chocolate Expedition. But mostly it seems like we never have enough of teh right food,or time or energy to go get some.

After bitching and moaning about This Piece of Shit Town all week, I've come up with a sensible solution - internet shopping. No lugging food up hills or getting takeaway coz we're too lazy to face the hills. There's even an organic fruit and veg box company that delivers in our area so I will check that out too. I used to get net groceries back in Oz and liked it a lot - we planned our meals and order exactly what we needed. It ends up being a lot easier to stick to your healthy eating.

As for exercise, I've now officially finished mourning the Posh Gym. I've just got back from signing up at the local council leisure centre about 15 mins walk from my new digs. It has a decent amount of classes, no Body Jam though. No soft couches or bar or cooked breakfasts. Wah! And it's only bloody 5 quid a month cheaper than the Posh Gym! Och well. I am going to suck it up and move on. I always pride myself on my adaptability so I guess it's time to focus on the actual exercise than the poncy facilities!

Right now it's 6pm and I can still see the sun. Looks like spring is finally coming to Scotland. This winter was so utterly long and shite, it's nice to feel the will to live returning, huzzah!

The Great Frock Hunt

Holy farking shit, Batman! I just entered the Race for Life! It's a very popular fundraiser, a 5k race in aid of Cancer Research UK. I've signed up for the Edinburgh event on June 5.

That doesn't sound like very fair away at all, eep! But I really need to shake things up and find new ways of getting fit. Training for the 5k should be fun and hard work, and the Good Cause factor will keep me motivated and full o guilt ;) I'll get cracking once this wedding and honeymooning palaver is over.

I can't believe how bad my wedding procrastination is that I would rather sign up for running races than go dress shopping. I did have a wee look on the weekend but soon got cranky with how SLEEVELESS everything is! I'm not even looking for a wedding-y type frock - just a nice fancy dress that you could wear for a formal do, you know? But it's all either tiny wee straps or no freaking straps at all, so all the world sees are my pale wobbly ham-like limbs. And I don't want one of those wrap-thingies to hide my arms coz with me it always looks like I am obviously trying to hide something AND I am really uncoordinated and don't need additional "bits" to worry about.

I'm off to London this weekend to visit my sister and hit the shops. I have a grand budget of about £200 including dress, shoes, accessories and/or Bridget Jones-esque magic squishy-in undies. Oh dear.

I am dreading this big style. It's all such a hurry, and it's the wrong season to be a looking for something for a size 16/18 person who wants to hide both legs and arms. I just have a sinking feeling we will run around town for two days and I'll end up in some frumpy sack, whatever I can force my flesh into. I hate shopping. ARRRGH.

Nevertheless, it could have been worse. I seem to have lost a few inches over the past four weeks. My grey trousers that threatened to disembowel me mid-January now fit perfectly, as does the jumper that was skin-tight and itchy. My undies aren't digging into me anymore. I've been gymming like a mofo this past three weeks, including three Body Pump classes last week, so I'm feeling quite good.

I'm so reluctant to post these things, the Little Changes I've noticed. Last year I so rarely did it, coz I thought I'd jinx myself if I shared some success and I wouldn't lose any more. But the only way that will happen is if I stop eating healthily and/or stop exercising. So from now my tactic is to give you guys FULL DISCLOSURE! There's no point skulking around. I need some accountability. Meanwhile, unlike last year, I've decided not to mention my weight-loss efforts at work, coz they'll only try and feed me cakes.

Running for Dummies

It took three attempts to get inside the door of the running store. The first time I sat on the bus as it sailed past, too nervous to ring the STOP bell. The second time I stood on the opposite side of the street, looking across, getting myself so worked up that I was in tears.

Why get so stressed about a pair of running shoes? It seems so ridiculous now, but I was a wreck last week. A few months back the lovely Julia from Italy (who you may recall kindly sent me a huge parcel of sporty clothes last year) wrote to me when I mentioned that I'd like to take up running. She trains people for running events and offered her help. Of course I was chuffed but got all caught up with my Russia trip.

When I got back there were no more excuses. But first, running shoes. My four-year-old cross trainers weren't going to cut it. All I had to go was go to the running store, get my hoofs fitted and I'd be all set. Instead I wasted another week trying to psych myself up for the task. My main points of concern:

1.  I would be laughed out of the shop by skinny salesmen, because why the hell would a fatty fat guts need running shoes?

Well that was really my only point of concern. I just felt I had no right to go in there. You know what it's like, people. That inferiority complex that comes from being fat. It is a paralysing, paranoid and unfounded fear that so often gets in the way of me achieving anything in life. No matter how much lard I lose, I still cannot shake this idea that there are things I am not allowed to do, places I do not belong, because of my weight.

All this was despite ample reassurance and encouragement from Julia, my sister and my boyfriend; who all insisted running was for everyone. You don't have to be some freaky athlete to run, said The Boy, They're a running shop, they're there to help. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. My fatty fat gut dollar would be just as welcome in the store as some string bean marathon dude's dollar.

Annoyed into action by everyone's logic, I made my third trip to the store last Friday afternoon. My heart was in my mouth. There was a sign on the door, We are closing at the earlier time of 5.30PM today. Sorry for any inconvenience.

It was 5.05PM. "Oh! Well," I thought breezily, my stomach sighing with relief, "May as well head home then. There's four customers in there, they'll never have time for me, tra la la la."

I was halfway up the street before I stopped and realised it was pretty dumb to leave work early and come all this way without at least going in the door.

"I'll just stand here at the back of the shop," I told my fraidy cat self. "And if anyone notices me before the shop closes, we'll take it from there."

So I slinked in, hiding behind a rack of Very Tiny Shorts while the staff sold some socks to a nubile blonde. Sadly the other people were just browsing, so before I knew it I was spotted.

"Can I help you?" asked the saleswoman.

"Oh, hello," I said meekly,  "I'm looking for some running shoes."

"Excellent," she smiled.

"I'm just starting out, you see," I said in a rush, "Well, obviously."

D'oh! Must stop feeling the need to justify my presence to skinny people. Why must I rush and establish, Yes, I'm Know I'm Fat, Beat Ya To It!

But this woman just focused on the task at hand. She asked me a bazillion questions, got me to take off my shoes and roll up my jeans (hello hairy calves!) and walk up and down the shop. She instantly spotted my wonky right foot that tends to roll inwards. She returned with a mighty stack of shoe boxes and asked even more questions as I tried them on.

All that attention made me squirm. All that attention on my body made me squirm. I am so used to being anonymous with exercise, hiding up the back of the class and muddling my way through. It felt strange to have someone treat my fitness so seriously.

"Okay, just have a wee run up and down the shop so I can see how your feet like those shoes,"

I froze. "What? Me?"

She smiled, "Don't worry, no one's looking at you."

"Oh man."

"I'll just be looking at your feet, not analysing your technique."

"I have no technique."

I remained frozen for another 30 seconds before finally doing a half-hearted little trot up the store. My face was burning red.

I must have tried on ten different pairs. I kept blurting, "These are okay, yeah, I think these'll do," anything to get her to stop paying so much attention. And wasn't the store closing soon? But she was in no hurry. I was appreciative of her friendliness and thoroughness, but it made me feel so weird.

Finally at 5.29PM we found the right pair. She wished me luck and gave me an entry form for a Win A Trip To The Chicago Marathon contest.

"Maybe just be a spectator this year," she smiled.

I felt so relieved and so stupid as I walked home. I was so proud of myself for finally making the purchase, yet felt like a dimwit for making such a big production of it. After all, the hardest task was ahead of me - to actually get my arse out there and start running.