Blood was 5.2 this morning, and the headline news is that if my body is a time-machine, I've just taken a quick trip two weeks into the past. Weigh-in today gave a result of 16 stone 12.5 pounds - up a pound and a half on last week. Sort of expected this - have had days on end with no biking, no walking to speak of, and a less fanatical approach to my calorie intake than I'm used to of late.
Previously of course, going back up a pound and a half would have been breast-beating territory, but as with last week, I haven't really got the time to bitch about it too much - the facts of the matter are I've slackened my exercise and my diet control while focusing on other things. The logical, understandable results are an increase in recorded weight. That's fine. After tomorrow (it's another Big Meeting Day in work), things should be clearer, and require less of my time to be devoted to other things. Definitely though it's time to break out the walking boots again once that's over with, and start overcoming the hideous morning darkness and walking again. Right now, I don't think there's much of another way to push on downward towards.
Except...just conceivably...
I'm wondering if the time is perhaps not right to try returning to the gym in some small, month-by-month way. While at home in Merthyr last weekend, I happened to be flicking through an Argos catalogue, and I landed on the pages of gym equipment. That got me thinking, because when I invested in the bike that's been the source of so much bitching, I had to pay huge top dollar for it, because it had to bear my weight, which was above the tolerance of most non-gym-quality equipment. Now, I'm far on the other side of those tolerances, so the money involved in getting different bits of kit to ensure I don't end up with the thighs of an Olympian and huge empty flaps of skin everywhere else, wouldn't be so bad at all.
Sadly, in our little flat, already nicknamed The Narrows by those of us who live in it(!), it's not money for gym equipment that's the issue, it's the fact that breathing in and out tends to require advanced planning and the co-operation, so the idea of bringing any more kit into the place is frankly laughable.
Also, I'm so done with leaving the office at five and not getting home till nearly eight, when, perversely, leaving the office at six....also gets me home at nearly eight, due to the congestion on the tubes. Maybe, if there was some constructive way of pissing away that hour, it wouldn't feel like such a waste of life and brain cells...
So...although it should be noted I'm not committing to this at this point, I am vaguely pondering the idea of re-joining the world of Popular, Organised Sweating. There's a gym just off Kensington Church Street, where I could potentially go, do some preliminary sweating, annoy the bejeesus out of people on the tube (always a bonus if you happen to be a brat), then come home and do my biking.
The only real thing about this plan that sticks in my craw (other than the idea of exercising with Kensingtonians, who most assuredly will not need to be there), is that is pretty much legitimises the idea of not getting in every night till nearly eight o'clock. I would say - this used to only be seven, but in recent weeks, I don't know what's happened, but it's as if another fairly major European city'sworth of people has been dumped into London, and you simply cannot get anywhere in the time you used to.
Hmm...something to think about, possibly. Over dinner, in all likelihood.
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