I’ve been chatting on the Three Good podcast this week about diet, health and fitness.
You can listen here…..
I’ve been chatting on the Three Good podcast this week about diet, health and fitness.
You can listen here…..
On my long slog back to fitness, there is one thing that I have been avoiding.
I always had a love hate relationship with running. It’s something that many runners know well. I liked it and I didn’t, often at the same time. There are good bits and not so good bits of it.
When I first started out running, I used to run to my local supermarket and back. It was less than a mile in total, and my goal was to be able to run all the way there and all the way back without stopping. It took me a while but I got there. A couple of years later I ran for two and a half hours without stopping in my first half marathon, a feat I would never have believed I could achieve that first, sweaty, difficult time.
The thing about running, is that to get any better you just have to keep going. Yes, other stuff matters. Having a decent pair of trainers, fuelling your body appropriately, learning a little about form…. But mostly it is about just running and then running some more. There are no shortcuts to become a good runner.
I have this tension going on. I am glad I am out there, putting one foot in front of the other. But I am also constantly reminded that I am not as good at this as I used to be. I am all too consciously incompetent. I don’t like the way my body moves right now, or the ragged feel of the breath that I just can’t regulate properly. Yet.
I know that my only choice is to keep going. To keep putting on my running shoes and just simply go.
It will take time but I will get better.
If I just keep running.
I have a confession to make. I have been looking at the bottoms of other women in the gym. In a sideways, hope they don’t notice me staring kind of way.
Not just bottoms either. Calves, abs, toned arms. The way that they rock their lycra while I look like an over stuffed sausage in mine. I have body envy. In particular, I have bottom envy.
I want their bottoms. Not their actual bottoms. I am not quite that weird. I want one of their bottoms for myself. I want my bottom to look all pert and dimple-free. I want to have the sort of bottom that makes women like me wish they had one. I want my bottom not to look like two planets colliding in a pair of pants.
I know that answer is, among other things of course, squats. The don’t call it a squat booty for nothing. Which is fine if your knees work properly but mine don’t. The last time I attempted a set of squats, I couldn’t get up the stairs at work for a week.
The answer to a better bottom also relies on other forms of exercise, and indeed, a better diet. I’m writing this sat down whilst sipping a latte. That probably won’t help either to be honest.
So ladies, if you see me looking at your bottom in the gym, please don’t call security. I just think you rock.
It’s a Friday afternoon in June 2016. The end of a long week of business travel, including flight delays and lost luggage. 5pm could not come soon enough. I went home expecting an ordinary kind of evening but instead my marriage ended.
A few weeks later I moved out of my home, taking almost nothing from the dozen or so previous years.
Then a few weeks after that, my dad got diagnosed with cancer.
Then a few weeks after that, my mom got diagnosed with cancer.
Then my wonderful boss left meaning my job changed over night.
And then my brain stopped working.
It’s April 2016 and I am doing my first ever triathlon. Not a bad achievement for a former fat girl. The following, my first half marathon – the longest I had ever run. Then in June, before the night that changed everything, my first Tough Mudder. Two and a half hours of gruelling running and obstacles. I loved it.
I was at the peak of my mental and physical health. I felt amazing and I was confident in how I looked, possibly for the first time in my life. Exercise was everything. My diet was focused, I was totally committed.
Back to August 2016. One night I went to bed, packing my gym bag for the morning as usual, laying out my kit. My alarm went off at 5.30. Something wasn’t quite right. I didn’t get up. All day. I told work I had a stomach upset. Because what else do you say? I told my girlfriends something wasn’t right. A few hours later, on my doorstep, Julie. With food and wine. She slept on the sofa and watched me.
I didn’t know then but this was the start of a dark period in my life. Depression and anxiety. One of the worst things for me during this time was that my desire to exercise disappeared over night. That things that was part of who I was, wasn’t. I went from exercising twice a day to barely moving off the sofa. I lost a lot of things during those few months, and exercise and fitness was one of them.
When you are depressed, people tell you that exercise is a good thing. And it is. But wanting to do it, finding the energy and the motivation to do it…. That’s something else entirely. What I wanted to do every day was sit. Or lie down. Not run or swim or cycle or lift some heavy stuff. But for the love of a good man, I might never have moved off the sofa again.
It’s the Spring of 2018. The Black Dog is mostly vanquished. The anxiety looks to be a permanent addition to who I am. The good news is that the exercise is back. Not at the level it was before, simply because time is more of an issue now. But if I could I would. The simple joy of moving, lifting, stretching, cutting through water. The feeling you get when you put on your kit, get the bike out of the garage, accelerate from a walk into a run.
I read an article this week that said research shows that resistance training weight lifting can be good for your mental health. That is certainly the case in my own experience. I can’t lift heavy but it makes me feel great all the same. And when the days are difficult, it takes the edge off.
I miss the fitter, thinner, stronger me. I lost her for a while. But she is in there somewhere. I did it once and I can do it again, older and wiser this time. And this time, the exercise isn’t just about getting physically fit but its mental health benefits too.
See you in the gym.
It’s no secret that I love a trashy magazine. But the level of fat shaming in some of them is off the scale.
There is one in particular, which I’m choosing not to name here (I’m not giving them the publicity). The last few weeks their front page has included a photograph of some poor (female, obviously) celebrity, highlighting their recent weight gain. I mean how dare they? Eat food and over indulge a little and find this stuff hard just like the rest of us? Inside the pages of course, even more references to famous faces who are ‘piling on the pounds’.
Consider how that person feels. Struggling with your weight is bloody hard. Sometimes, it is soul destroying. The constant guilt, the on-going battle between what you want and know you can’t have. Watching everything you eat and trying not to give into temptation. There are often complex reasons why people over eat. For many of us, it is a cycle of up and down, good times and bad. Consider again, this private battle being played out for cheap entertainment for the masses. Seeing yourself on the front page of a magazine, your body being held up to ridicule just to sell a few more copies.
What does it say about us that we like to read this stuff? That we think it is okay? Or that we don’t even notice it for what it is? Fat shaming.
This stuff is so regular, so ubiquitous, that it barely registered.
Of course, also within the pages of these magazines, are the diet plans. Get beach body ready. Lose seven pounds in seven days. I did it all with [insert the name of well-known slimming brand that wants to take your money here].
When you are overweight, lots of people have an opinion. When you lose weight, ditto. When I was going through my major weight loss phase, I lost count of the number of people that commented, that felt it was okay to tell me how I ought to look and ought to live.
Life is hard. Weight management is hard. Having a positive body image with images all around telling us that fat is bad, gaining weight is bad, thin is everything.
We don’t need to shame people along the way, make it worse for them and for us.
Enough of the fat shaming. Please.
It’s been a good bank holiday weekend on the exercise front.
Friday, an hour in the gym followed by a quick ten lengths in the outdoor pool in the sunshine. Lush.
Saturday, another hour in the gym.
Sunday, 17 mile bike ride.
Monday, 50 minutes in the gym, followed by another ten lengths of the pool.
On the downside……
I drank two bottles of Prosecco.
At the end of the 17 mile bike ride I had a pint of shandy and a 99 from the ice cream van.
And yesterday I accidently ate a pizza. Don’t know how that happened.
Overall summary: too scared to go on the scales. Some slight trouser issues this morning (they appear to be more snug than when I wore them on Thursday. Query – additional muscle? Conclusion – in your dreams).
Plan for this week. More of the exercise stuff. A bit less Prosecco. If it only it could be the other way around…..
You know when people say that they don’t have time to exercise?
They totally do.
I have a full time job. A three hour round trip commute. A sort of small business where I do other stuff. I volunteer for my professional association. I have a house to run. A partner with a full time, very busy job. Kid stuff too. I’m not trying to brag. I’m not superwoman, I am just trying to keep my shit together and balance this stuff, every day.
I don’t have time to exercise. But I do anyway. Because I make it a priority.
I don’t do it as often as I could or should or want to. But I fit something in, somehow.
Monday evening, my commuter train, for once, got me home on time. I really should have done some washing or hoovered or tackled one of the other many jobs on my relentless to-do list. Instead, I went for a bike ride around the park. It was only 15 minutes, but still better than 15 minutes on the sofa. Definitely more enjoyable than emptying the dishwasher. Tonight, I’m going to try and do it again. On Friday, I am going to take the rarest of things for me – a lunch hour – and go for a quick gym visit.
If you don’t have much time, you have to make choices.
You can let stuff slide. You can prioritise you and your health. Does it really matter if the house is spotless? Does it really matter if one more email gets responded to? Could you, if you really tried, get up a little bit earlier to fit something in? Could you turn off the TV and do something more physical instead?
Or…… do you not really want to? As the saying goes, if you want to do something you will find a way, otherwise you will find an excuse. There are always more people in the pub than the gym. It’s all about priorities, and choice. And it’s okay to choose no too.
Do what you can when you can. Something is always better than nothing. Your health is at as important as all the other life and work stuff.
Fit it in. In whatever way you can.
Lifestyle changes are hard. Mainly because you need to keep them up.
Diets, detoxes, health kicks…. They are all time bound. But weight loss is for life, not just after Christmas.
This is the reason that many diets fail and people regress to their former weight – and then some.
Two years ago I was down to my lowest ever weight. A truly fabulous, 9 stone 5 lbs. It was wonderful. I could wear anything I liked. Pick clothes up off a rack and just buy them. I could run like the wind (mainly because I didn’t weigh anything). It really was wonderful. It was also, for me, entirely unsustainable. Sustainable in the actually having a life sense anyway.
To get to that weight I exercised at least an hour a day, sometimes two. I didn’t drink alcohol, rarely ate out, and had very little sugar (e.g. nice stuff) in my diet. This was all fine in the short term but got a bit boring after a while. And you know, wine. So I eased off a bit. Now I aim to exercise 3-5 times a week. I try to limit my wine consumption (a very definite work in progress), move as much as I can, eat well (some of the time). My weight has, naturally, gone up a bit (ok a lot). But it’s okay. It’s about balance after all. The more extreme the changes you make, the harder they are to sustain. Not sustaining something is demotivating… it sets up a demotivating cycle of I can’t and I won’t ever.
Instead of big change, do small stuff. Ask yourself – could I live like this? Do I want to? if the answer is no, then just maybe you are pushing too hard, too soon.
Choose something sustainable.
I am a big fan of a weight loss TV programmes. One of my all time favourites is My 600lb Life. If you haven’t seen it, the series follows individuals who weigh over 600lbs – 42 stone for us Brits – who are trying to lose their excess weight through bariatric surgery. The programme focuses on extreme individuals. People who cannot work, cannot walk, cannot even take a shower without help. They have often reached the very end of the road and their life is at stake.
It is easy to sit on the sofa and judge. It is easy to believe that nothing like that would ever happen to you – to marvel at how anyone would ever allow themselves to get to that place.
I don’t judge. Because I know how they got there; they got there through the acceptance of small things. Minor inconveniences. Barely noticeable changes. But small things that added up to a terrible, cumulative total.
When I became obese I did so by tolerating small things. You stop wearing high heels because your ankles are sore (because of your weight of course). You stop wearing certain types of clothes (because they are for much thinner people). You never take the stairs, always the lift (because you get a bit too out of breath for comfort). You stop looking in mirrors. You give up certain hobbies and pastimes. And so on.
For some of us, there is the light-bulb moment that makes us stop. Stop eating, stop damaging our body, stop accepting those small things. But for some, this moment never comes. And a few years down the line the next small thing that you are tolerating might be an inability to stand, walk, move without help.
Weight gain is a boiling frog.
Lately, as my weight has edged over what I think is acceptable for me, I noticed that I had tolerated some small things. Nothing much. But as I said in my last post, this is the time to make change, not in another few months or years when the small things are really Very Big Things (or indeed I am a Very Big Thing).
It is zero tolerance time. I’ve done it before and I can do it again.
Easter chocolate. I’d say it is my downfall….. but it is just one of many.
Because despite all my protestations and promises to the contrary, I’m still carrying the Christmas cake weight too.
My name is Gemma and I have a problem with food.
The problem is, I like it. All of it. A bloody lot.
But. My trousers don’t fit. Again.
In the old days, I made excuses to myself (it’s the fit don’t you know, they just come up small) and got the next size up. Only experience tells me that this is the road to ruin (or at the very least, the road to a size 22). Because the next size becomes the next size becomes the next size.
So. I need to get back on it. Time for some cardio and time for some better food. I will get back into those trousers.
When I have finished all the Easter eggs though.
I mean I might be a little overweight, but I’m not crazy.