The Measurement Unit Remembrance

And so we begin again.
Walked my Twyn Hill...which is actually my Alma Row...walk this morning - about 5 miles - and saw Ma off for her trip to Berlin.

Didn't actually eat breakfast. Not cos I was worried about calories, I was just actually full and contented.

Went to the gym at lunchtime - did a little rowing, just to raise the heart rate to "Holy Fuck I'm Dying" levels, then did a bunch of arm work and sixty weighted sit-ups. I didn't push it or stress it, cos I had plans for the day.

Had lunch of four slices of wholemeal toast, scraped with butter, and a tin of cold tomatoes. Then worked through till about 5.40, and did an hour of actual, musical, sweat-dripping biking, which felt insanely good, given the accompanying pain. Worked off 10 miles and 500 calories, jumped in the shower.

Dinner was chicken goujons, a sweet potato, a small amount of mac and cheese and, as a quirky touch, a couple of hard boiled eggs.

And that's me done for the day. Have had a bottle of water and two coffees. Gonna have at least one more before the end of the day, but all in all, it feels like a good Disappearing Reboot.

The thing about today has been a remembering of a thing from the old days. When I started, and throughout the first phase, I wasn't really looking at the long-term goal very often or for very long. It was all about the next milestone. The next seven pounds (or half a stone). So, the way I'm thinking about it is that from my original starting weight, I'm currently between milestones - I've lost 2.5 stone, and an additional 4.some-odd pounds. That leaves me something like 2.5 pounds to my next milestone of having lost three stone at the 17st 7 marker. That's got to be doable this week, but if it isn't, it'll be done next week instead. But it will be done. After which, we keep one eye on not falling back to the 2.5 stone marker, and one eye, and a shitload of effort, on getting to the 3.5 stone mark, at 17 stone.

This, right now, feels like a much more intelligent way of going about this thing than focusing on the fact that I still have about six and a half stone to lose before getting to my allegedly "ideal" weight. Baby steps, seven pound increments, journey of a thousand miles, yadda yadda yadda. I feel like I'm back. Not to make wuss-ass excuses, but I feel like most of 2012 was consumed in worry about my Dad. Still miss him every day, cos he was one of those men who had a take on everything, even if his take was "don't worry about it", or, which I admired about him, "say 'bollocks' to it".

But now it's time to say "bollocks to using him as an excuse to not be what I want to be. He wouldn't want that and nor do I. We go forward again from here, I say - seven pound marker by seven pound marker, setback by setback, plateau by godforsaken plateau, and when they come, triumph by triumph.

So, fix your stars to the next goal, ladies and gentlemen - 17 stone 7, here we bloody well come...