You can tell I've actually been working for a living this week as I haven't had a moment to breathe, let alone inflict random thoughts regarding training, weight loss and any other mental detritus floating round the vast atmosphere surrounding my tiny brain.
I did make a fairly whiney and quite foul-mouthed video diary around mid week, which I am intending to post once I have properly edited it and worked out how to get the bleeps in the right place, or not.
It's not been a bad week though. I managed a six and a half mile run on Wednesday evening, which was okay, reasonably enjoyable. That was after a really sucky session in the gym on Tuesday, well hardly a session, more of a sulky mooch around the ski machine, followed by a lope on the treadmill. After about quarter of an hour I moodily walked out, without hardly breaking sweat. Although that's not really true as I still come out in cobs with the mere effort of opening a locker in the changing rooms.
I was annoyed at myself for many reasons, but mainly because I'd lived up to the image that I am trying so hard to shake off.
In my head people see me in the gym and think I'm just some fat bloater who will probably give up within a couple of minutes, or when the tuck shop opens, whichever is sooner.
So I like to defy all the odds by training harder and longer than anybody else, or at least feel like it.
But on Tuesday I just lived up to the worst expectations of myself, which was a disappointment.
And that is what made Wednesday's run so much more satisfying I guess.
I even came home and cooked a fillet of fish with some nice fresh green beans, new potatoes and good old broccoli. Woop woop.
I slipped back onto the cheese burgers and cookies tonight though, naughty. Maybe I should plan another run this weekend. Three weeks on Sunday I'll be summoning all my reserves to get me round the half marathon, best hope I don't get slaughtered at my brother's wedding the night before.