The Sausage Explosion

Unff...

Went walking down the Taff Trail this morning.

Well, that hurt. That hurt real good. While feeling a certain smugness about finally having got off my ass and done something in the world of exercise in 2013, it certainly brought it home to me exactly how far back I've fallen: I haven't walked down the Trail while being this heavy. I can't swear to this without...y'know...doing actual research...but I think the last time I was this size, I was walking from Kensington to Tottenham Court Road each work day (2 miles), and doing an hour of biking a day. So today, walking six miles straight out of the hat was something of a jump-start, and my back pretty much strained and went "What the fuck, dude?"

Good. Can't imagine the kind of swearing I'll get from it tomorrow, with the yoga/boot camp double - if I go ahead with that particular double.

Went up to see Ma at 4pm, as she came home today. She was understandably knackered. d and I walked home, and stopped at a pub for a quick dinner. Turned out to be sausage and mash. Roughly 800 calories (thank you Weatherspoons for the handy information). That meant that at that point, I was still in calorific obeisance to the number-per-day to lose a couple of pounds. When we came home, we were happily sitting watching the Simpsons (I had to - Homer was playing Jesus. Homer's one finger and a case of yellow jaundice away from being me, so it was a must-watch!), when I felt a bizarre rumbling.

I ran up the stairs, getting to the bathroom just in time for the entire bottom half of my body to apparently rupture. Pouring would be too gentle a word for what happened to me. Gushing too.

Tell you what - have you ever tried a power shower? That amazing water pressure that knocks you slightly backwards? Was kinda like that, only downwards.

Apparently, sausage and mash? Not so good for me right now. Note to self for future reference. No, no and Hellno...

(shudders).

And on to the morning - back to work, and Disappearing Boot Camp...