Crunch Time

Right, well first let me say:
OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow you goddamnsonofabitchinbastard.

And second let me say: It's not what you think.

It's NOT the ordinary bodyshock horror of a fat fuck waking up the day after turning over a new leaf and walking a truckload of miles (7.5 all in all yesterday), it really isn't. It is not the simple effect of walking a lot while unprepared for it - this needs to be made absolutely clear, or my new direction of walking long distances will be seen as an overenthusiastic blip, which it isn't.

What it is is that last night, in a hurry to make an appointment with the nurse to renew my Xenical prescription, and possibly moderately inspired by Mae's tale of me "sprinting" here and there, I leapt from a District Line tube at Mile End, and ran to jump on a Central Line one to get back to Stratford. And somewhere in the  leaping and running and leaping again, something in my right foot went CRUNCH.

Not Kerrrr-unch, Not CRACK. This was nothing "fall down on the ground now, Pilgrim, you're done", nothing "something important has just twanged up to your knee". As pain goes, it wasn't anything serious. It was just a consistent, pressurised toothache-pain in the foot every time I took a step on it. As warnings go, it was more like "You keep this walking shit up, I'm gonna have to bitchslap ya."

Naturally, I took the opportunity last night to act like a right bloody Maharajah - bath poured for me, dinner in bed with me leg up, frozen fruit brought to me for dessert, all that malarkey. If it wasn't for the dull throb, it'd have been quite the fantasy life. This morning, I thought about walking up to Plaistow on the ankle, but it quickly disabused me of that notion.

Somewhere unobtrusive in the middle of the afternoon though, it just....disappeared. Business as usual and on we jolly well go. So I decided to try a bit of walking again. And to give it its credit, it did the job admirably. By the time I got home though  it was starting to throb again, so I'm writing this, once more, from my bed with me leg up - though within ten minutes tonight it was feeling fine again. So there's now a moratorium on proper walking and cycling until at least tomorrow night when I'll see how I feel about getting back on the bike - if nothing else, I've learned from the blisterfest that a little sacrifice at the start can save you a world of frustration and disappointment later as you wait to heal.

And yes, as I sit here, typing one handed with my beardy face buried in tacos, I'm not about to lie to you - yes, the whisper-voice is running a fine old commentary at the back of my head, counting calories consumed and calories conspicuously not burned in exercise and slithering about back there doing Devil-laughs, just because it can.

The trick, I think, is not to let that drive you either a) stark raving bonkers, or b) to do something stupid and injure yourself further - because if you do that, chances are in the long run it wins. you just have to endure the crunch time and move on when able.

Blood was 5.5 this morning by the way.

Oh yeah, one final side-bar - had a lovely text last night from my mate Karen. This is not Karen Pulley, or Karen, who shall be known as Mae...this is Karen who for reasons altogether lost in the mists of time, I know as KrazyKlaws. She's been mentioned in passing before in this blog - she's my champion-slimmer friend, and actually, now I think of it, she's the Karen in my world of Karens who I've known the longest. Anyhow, she texted out of the blue to say she was loving the blog, and she was back on the weightloss train herself at the moment. Then she said something truly amazing. "You're inspiring me".

Blimey - the responsibility! I've never been an inspiration in my life before; I'm not sure I know the moves!
Still - was a lovely thing for her to say. Almost feel like I should try and be a better Disappearing Man now.

Probably won't be of course, but still...