Feels like I'm standing still today. Blood was 6.2, so relatively high. It occurs to me that I said, back in the day, that I wanted to go swimming. Thing is, I found out the lie of that in Croatia. There was a pool, and one afternoon, I got some time to lie beside it in a T-shirt and shorts. I went out with the intention of slipping off the shirt and dipping in and doing some proper swimming, but when it came to it, I couldn't do it. I was paralysed with self-consciousness, even though it's important to remember this was a pool full of ageing, leathery Croatian man-breasts. Just couldn't do it. So the chances of me doing it in a British public pool, potentially filled with yobbish British teenagers, is practically nil. So I guess I have to be realistic on that. And on the other hand, I have a box of weights that I've never opened. That, I think, needs to change, because I feel in danger of slipping back further next week, and that will really piss me off, to have come so close to the stone barrier, and then be dragged back in a wave of of flusteration.
If anybody's following the fate of Composto, he's been vanquished - this time - by the Dynamic Duo of Captain Draino and GreaseBoy. But he's not gone for good, he's stuck in his Colonic Cave, plotting his revenge, and he'll be back.
Came home tonight, turned the bike up to level 7, and did ten miles. Desperation measure, frankly, to make up for three fairly hefty, gorgeous carby meals today. I'm not about to go down the route of panicky madness that feels guilty about every mouthful retrospectively. I wanted it, I ate it, I enjoyed it, I'm moving on. Instead of that, I'm gonna break out the weights tomorrow (possibly in the morning, if I can screw my head on right that early), to add a new dimension to the regime, and try to push forward, rather than being dragged back by carbohydrate and despondency.
Meanwhile, there's important snoring to be done, so you'll have to excuse me.
No comments:
Post a Comment