The wrong (size) trousers

I said I was back on it.

And I am.

Sort of.

Well, I am being better, at least.

This morning however…….

Work trousers.

You know when you do that thing of keep wearing the same thing? And then you find something in the back of the wardrobe you’d kind of forgotten about and decide to wear it.  I did that. With some work trousers.

Only to find that they didn’t fit.

Neither did the next pair.

When I lost all my weight, I felt so amazing. I couldn’t understand why people ever put weight back on again. Why people did the yo-yo thing.

Because when you had worked so hard, why would you undo it all?  Give it up?

Oh, but the bad habits are so easy to slip back in to.

I lost six stone. I celebrated the milestone last summer.  I have recently put 11lb back on.

This is where it stops. Right now. This is my promise to myself. No more.

There are only two options. Lose it again, or buy bigger clothes.

In the past, I did the latter. Only that’s the start of a slippery slope, as I know well. Because a size 16 turns into a size 18 turns into a 20 and so on.

This time, I chose the former. Again.

So a little bit better isn’t good enough.

I know what to do. I have the qualifications and experience after all.

More water. More protein.  More exercise.

Less sugar. Less sitting on the sofa.

Fewer carbs. Fewer calories.

Fewer excuses.

Trousers, I am coming to get you.

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Eventing Again.

2017-05-14 06.47.21I haven’t done a fitness event of any kind since last July. Plans for several runs last year went out of the window when I relocated, and other life stuff got in the way.

Part truth… part excuse, if I’m harsh on myself.

Last year, I signed up to the Moonwalk with some good friends. If you haven’t heard of it, the Moonwalk raises money to fight breast cancer.  It’s a walk through the night, either 15 miles or a full marathon.

What I didn’t know when I signed up for it was how much of an issue I would have fitting in any training – and how much my fitness levels would have slipped back.  I also didn’t know my own mother was going to be diagnosed with the disease in a matter of weeks.  The fundraising suddenly got a little more personal.

I moved house a few days before the walk. An old knee injury was giving me some hassle, mainly as a result of carrying too many boxes up and down too many stairs.  On the night I set out to walk a marathon. My knee, coupled with a hip problem I have had since my teens, scuppered my plans.  After four and a half hours of continuous walking through the streets of London, as the sun started to come up, I realised I didn’t have another 13 or so miles in my leg.  So I reluctantly dropped onto the shorter route, completing it in six hours.

It meant that I didn’t get to walk across the finish line with my friends. It did mean a couple of other things though.

It reminded me how much I love a big event. Getting the pack with your number in through the post. Walking to the venue with all of the other competitors. The build-up on the day.  Waiting for your turn to do the thing.  Crossing a finish line.  Competing only with yourself.

It also meant that I was back in the game. Kind of.  I have much fitness to regain.  Once again, I have weight to lose. But it has begun. Again.

It reminded me too, that diet and exercise is, and always will be, a constant challenge to be faced.  And it is very, very easy to slip back into bad habits.

I was disappointed not to have done the full walk. But did not finish is better than did not start, which is better than didn’t even register because I didn’t believe that I could.  When you stand on a  start line at an event, you are doing more than most people ever do.

Onwards and upwards.