The Bikeless Seven

Seven days it's been now since I got on the exercise bike here at home.

Seven days.

There are two ways of looking at this information. The traditional Disappearing way, which is full of woe, woe and thrice woe, self-abnegation and torment and guilt and all that other fun stuff.
Or the way that looks at things with a more measured eye and says "That sucked...next!"

This second course is the one I am currently disposed to take (apologies, by the way - I'm reading Moby Dick at the moment, and interminable as it may be, the idiom does rather seep into one's lexicon!)

There is very little hope, I would imagine, of even maintaining last week's surprising good result, and very great likelihood of backsliding, perhaps even as far as my previous milestone at 16st 7. Or potentially even more.

But what needs to happen in such circumstances is clear - More work, less heavy food, more metabolic boosting. Mad as this pronouncement may seem, given that I'm currently on the economic delight of rolling deadlines for both my day job and my company (Moneymoneymoneymoneymoney...), this week coming up should see me more free to carve out time to dedicatedly Disappear than its predecessor has done.

And let's not forget, there's a whole...what, 39 hours, maybe, before weigh-in, and two spin sessions before that.

Went down the Trail this morning, and my blood sugar was pleasing at 6.0, so some things at least are doing acceptably well. More exercise in the week to come should address any backsliding and put me back on schedule - though it now seems unlikely that I'll see a 15 on the Nazi Scales before June.

But such its life. Whether May or June, the 15 will come, and the 15 will go, and progress will both accountably and unaccountably be made. Forward!