In Appreciation Of The Kilo

I've said for years, since doing the Maggie's Night Hike, walking twenty miles around London in the space of one night, that such a mad exploit really gives you an appreciation of quite how long a mile actually is, in our generally artificially-transported world.

Had a similar evelation tonight regarding the humble kilo.

Now, if you've been with me a while, you'll know that I make few, if any, apologies for not having a frame of reference for the kilo. I grew up (and indeed out) with pounds, and as we've said at Druid-mistrusting length before, stones (stones being markers of every fourteen pounds in case there are any newbies in the crowd - hellooo if you are, lovely to have you here and all that). Pounds, therefore, I understand - they have an analogue for me in the real world, and certainly since beginning this experiment, that appreciation has deepened and devolved into calories not eaten, or hours of exercise slogged over, drugs taken, weigh-ins worried about, celebration banners waved and yadda yadda very thoroughly yaddad.

But the kilo...
Much like the metre, I've never had much use for the kilo - it's one of those things I have to look up convertors for. Like French. And generally, in my life, as much use.

But tonight, for reasons you needn't be troubled with, I had to collect a lot of boxes, packed flat, from Argos in Kensington, and bring them home. When I say 'a lot of boxes', I mean something like 900 litres of storage space, flattened. And no, before you ask, I wouldn't know a litre if it kicked my face off. Which is why, when d called and said she'd meet me in Kensington and help me carry it home, I chuckled and waved a macho hand (which is a tricky combo to pull off, believe me), and tried to do the Good Husband Thing, and said "Oh no, honey, you don't need to come out here, it's only some boxes..."

Yeah...
As it turned out, it was 11 kilos of boxes. Even as the biiiiiig box was shoved across the counter, I still didn't get it. Big, but light, I figured.

Nnnnno.

Big and freakin' ridiculously heavy. And awkward to boot. Staggered my lame-ass up the Kensington High Street in search of a bus for me and my leviathan load. Found one, but couldn't get on it - Friday night in London, don'tcha know. Staggered out into four lanes of traffic, crossing the road to find a different bus in a different direction, carried that sonofabitch down into the tube system, and got to Tottenham Court Road. Sat there for nearly forty minutes, sweltering and moistening the cardboard of my box of boxes, as apparently, a broken train further up the line was repaired, and towed by gerbils to the next station.

Finally, after the world ended in sweat and ground teeth, I carrried the thing down through Stratford station, into a cab, and got it through the door. Now, having done all that, I am here to tell you fine ladies and gents that 11 kilos is freakin' heavy.

I mean, reeeeally freakin' heavy. Arm-aching, muscle-straining, what-the-hell-is-this-thing-full-of heavy.
It was only when I got through the door that I remembered something. At last weigh-in, I'd lost 16.some-odd kilos.

That's not possible. I mean, it's just not. I cannot have melted away that boxful and almost half as much again. I could hardly carry the damned 11 kilos strung between both hands, how the hell would I have been able to carry them dangling from my body?

So - in case anyone missed the central thrust of this post, 11 kilos - heavy. So now I have a real-world analogue for what a kilo is and feels like. Still feels like French, but now it feels like the world's biggest chocolate croissant.

Not sure whether that makes it more appealing, or more Hellish. Still, it's kinda good to know.

Couple of housekeeping details - for the Twilight fans, blood has been 5.4, 6.3 and 7.3 on the first three mornings of my reduced-med regime. So - as instructed by the doc, might go back to full meds since it's doing that, until the exercise regime is back to something approaching normal. Walked 4.5 miles this morning, but did nothing...other than pratting about with 11 kilos of cardboard box...this evening. Really found it difficult to hold up those 11 kilos...
Maybe it really is finally time to break out the weights!