Day 1 – And So It Begins

Posted: January 7, 2012 in Uncategorized

I’ve barely trained for a month now and inconsistently for almost three. I’ve used slight/niggling injuries and trips to the physio to deal with my IT Band issues as an excuse really. For the majority of the year, certainly from April onwards I’ve been careful about what I’ve eaten, what I’ve drank, I’ve trained regularly –  three, four, five times a week. At one point I was even getting up at 04:30 to go for a run before work so I could do a double session that day.

In the space of a month though I’ve done my damndest to undo all that hard work. Lying around, hardly training, drinking, eating rubbish. In fact I haven’t even been eating, I’ve been gorging like a bullimic Brian Blessed at a barbarian’s barbecue. The roundness was returning and what definition I did have was disappearing. The Fedge* was lurking and I could see him every time I looked in the mirror, a corpulent Candyman just waiting for me to let my guard down. Why after months of discipline and hard work was I letting him back in though? Well if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself over the years its that I’ve got a masochistic, self destructive streak a mile wide and I just love making things hard for myself. Leaving things til the last minute and stacking the odds against myself so that if I do manage to pull it off there’s a real thrill (or really a sense of relief) and if I don’t at least I have an excuse.

Not this time though. Last night was New Year’s Eve and I’d finally had enough. Enough eating, enough drinking, enough sitting around getting fat. I was sick of it all. The final clincher was getting that strange pain in my sternum that I used to get on a semi-regular basis when I was just forcing more and more stuff down my gullet. Then I used to just ignore it and act like it was normal but feeling it for the first time in months, and notably when I was embracing all my bad old habits again, was a bit of an eye opener. None of this “I’m starting tomorrow” bullshit, I’m starting now. Step away from the quality street, put the wine down and go to bed.

I leave Brid and the boys to see in the new year with Facebook and Soap McTavish respectively and I’m gone, tucked up in bed fifteen minutes before the new year begins with Gerry Duffy’s “Who Dares, Runs” for inspiration.

Early the next day we headed up to Glendalough for a hike and as we were doing it I decided to throw in a bit of a run as well. The pain in my knees and the burning in my lungs were painful reminders of just how much damage I’d done to myself in such a short space of time. Thankfully though all is not lost and I know the damage is far from irreparable. Although I’ve put on about 4kg over Christmas, bringing me back up to about 80kg, this time last year I was 15kg or so heavier.

We get back from our hike (and little run) and although I know there’s a long road ahead, and lots of work to do, I’m happier than at almost any time over Christmas and looking forward to the challenge ahead.

It Was a Good Day

 

*The Fedge was one of the drivers behind me getting fit initially. On a trip to Hamburg with my friends last November we were heading out for the evening, suitably wrapping up to guard ourselves against the freezing winter air I had a big coat and cosy woolly hat on. Said hat, along with my ill advised moustache, led to me being christened The Fedge, much to the amusement of all present (including myself as, in fairness, it was spot on). Why The Fedge? Quite simply it meant The Fat Edge, and if ever I needed a kick up the hole it was the fact that I was now, incontrovertibly,  ‘The Fat One’ amongst my friends.

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