Disappearing Syndrome

See, I think it’s a sickness.

To most people, to normal people, I’m sure “woohoo, I don’t have to get up at 4.30AM!” is an excuse to lay in bed till the last possible moment.

To me, it appears to be an excuse to get up a whole two hours later, at 6.30, pop to the pool, do my now-regulation ten lengths, then bugger off home and bike for an hour before work.

That can’t be right, surely?

Still, Monday and all – day before the weigh-in – Dum-dum-daaaaaaah!

Honestly, anyone still give a rat’s ass? Except me, I mean, and only then cos it directly affects me.

Was talking to d last night about the temptation to do an Aristotelian experiment...

For those who are just joining us, or, mysteriously, who don’t commit to memory every pearl of wisdom ever written in this blog, an Aristotelian experiment is an experiment with pleasure. Aristotle’s Ethics, which I read a while back, seemed to view pleasure with a great deal of suspicion and to argue that, more often than not, it should be avoided, because it colours your view of what is genuinely good. But, said Ari, those who completely avoided pleasure were miserable cop-outs, and couldn’t really claim to have mastered desire simply by staying the fuck away from pleasurable things. The real test, he said, was to have pleasure in very great moderation, and then master it again every day.

Tell me honestly – you wanna party with this guy, don’t you?

Anyhow – my idea of an Aristotelian experiment goes back to reading the book, because I’m one of those who has banned pleasure of a certain kind – of a culinary kind, clearly – entirely from my diet, in an effort to Disappear significantly. So Aristotle’s words rang in my brain as a kind of test, a kind of “come and have a doughnut if you think you’re hard enough!” call from across the terraces of time.

“I’m thinking of doing an Aristotelian experiment,” I said last night.

“A what?” said d.  I explained it to her as I’ve just explained it to you.

“Oh...OK,” she said. “What are you thinking of having? Want a muffin? I can give you a muffin...”

Double-entendres waaaaay aside, this was a kind offer – she’s started baking seriously again recently, and people at our Sunday morning car boot sales are starting to sit up, take notice and pay money. She was offering me the last of her Morning Glory muffins (again, insert your own double entendre here if you like, safe in the knowledge that I did...).

“Nono,” I said. “Too healthy. I’m thinking of a Welsh Cake...”

I should explain – a Welsh cake is a small bake-stone cake filled with currants. Normally, that’s as far as it goes, but one of the stalls at our local market has been commended by Jamie Oliver as a food hero. They do a kind of Welsh Cake sandwich, with jam and what is essentially frosting in the middle. I’m given to understand it’s practically orgasmic.

“Ohhh, yeah, good choice,” said d.

“Oh no, wait!” I thought again. If you were going to experience pleasure, why dangle your toes in the water, when you could jump in head first.

“How about a Sundae,” I said, fantasising about any and all of the colossal, whorish desserts on offer at the local Harvester. D wasn’t as keen on that idea, but as I’ve mentioned before, I have the discretion of an 8-year-old boy when it comes to desserts. The gaudier the better, almost by default.

“Mmmmm...” I Homered. “Sunnnnndaes....”

“Yyyyeah – way to test your strength there,” said d.

The thing is – the point is - that when today dawned, and the opportunity surely arose to put this plan into action, instead of diving into a dessert head-first, I went swimming and biking, and I’m currently wondering if I have time to get another hoursworth of biking in before dinner. Seems to be some perverse kind of addiction-replacement going on again. More water, more revolutions, dammit! Give me moooooore!

Did I mention, I think it’s a sickness?

Sigh...

Tomorrow should be Interesting. Meeting with a diabetic nurse, presumably for a medication review now we’ve moved across the country. Blood remains relatively constant – on just the one pill (down from four at the start of this experiment last March), my blood this morning was constant from yesterday at 5.2. Woohoo!

Also, have another ‘gym taster’ at lunchtime tomorrow, and intend to swim before work again....annnd possibly bike too...Fightback well and truly started. Let’s see if this positively addictive behaviour is even remotely reflected in the weigh-in tomorrow morning...