Holy moanfest, Batman! Thanks for indulging me in the last entry. I always need to have a good whinge before getting my act together again. It's an official stage in the Getting Back On The Wagon process. There are official stages, don't you know. I've fallen off so many times that last time it happened, I made an actual List of them. It's a handy reminder that it's happened all before and everything will be dandy soon enough.
There's always a low moment when you worry that this time you've really cocked it up beyond repair. I was chugging up Ben Lawers on Monday, my heart rate monitor declaring I'd reached 90% of my maximum. Jenny and Gareth were slightly ahead, but in my gloomy frame of mind they may as well have been lounging on the mountain top, sipping cups of tea and cackling, "Pick up the pace, fatty!"
I was trying to describe the feeling to Gareth the other night. Most of the time, staying healthy is mindless and natural; it's just the way I do things. But when things get on top of me, I feel fraudulent. Like the gymming and hiking are just pathetic attempts to outrun my old self. Like I'll always be ten steps behind the real skinny people. Like the real me is the recluse on the couch with the drawn blinds and tub of ice cream. It's a feeling of despair that this time, the ruse is finally up.
The moment did pass when I got to the top of the hill. I'm really glad I created a Setbacks and Screw-ups category because it's been reassuring to see hard evidence that I do have the ability to bounce back again. And again and again and again.
"It's impossible to see the way forward if you're too busy beating yourself up. It's not a failure of character if you dare to feel a bit lost and incompetent."
— Good Feeling, 24 October 2007.