Monday weigh in success

I was dreading today's weigh in as I spent most of the weekend eating, but I actually lost weight last week.
I didn't mean to stuff my face, it wasn't like I had slumped to a food-bingeing low or anything, I just had two very meal-oriented family gatherings.
The first on Saturday involved a lovely large cooked dinner with seconds to follow, and then a bit of tea in the evening where much cheese was consumed and I learned how to make a pavlova.
Don't think it will be as easy as it looked. Both sittings involved large helpings of puddings too.
The second event was a barbecue for my dad's birthday yesterday where I had a cheeseburger, two barbecued spare ribs, several chicken drumsticks and two large sausages. More meat than was probably healthy for me, and followed again by lots of cheese and things like that.
I was fully expecting to have put on about half a stone, but it appears I have actually lost three and a half pounds and I am now a svelte 16 st and 11 1/2 lbs. It's the lightest I've been for a couple of years I think.
Total weight loss now standing at 16 and 1/2 lbs since May 5.
The meeting leader Lisa announced this to everybody and I went as red as the ketchup in my burger last night.
Anyway I treated myself with some sushi and salad for lunch.

Banksy, Daley Thompson and other stuff

Pic caption: According to somebody, this is Banksy. Looks more like former Stone Roses now Primal Scream bassist Mani to me. Either way I couldnt' give a monkey's fart in a high wind. He either does great things with a spray can, or a bass guitar.

So ITV News has started some new feature called OBESITY UK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and there is a very serious TV journalist looking very earnestly into the camera talking about the EPIDEMIC that is SWEEPING BRITAIN, and THREATENS TO ENGULF US ALL!!!!

Anyway, I happen to catch it this evening, God knows how with all these obese people in the world, I'm surprised I could even get into my flat.

But it was interesting as it kind of backed up what I've been banging on about for a little while regarding men and obesity. According to the very serious and not very obese news reader there are basically more obese men than women, and she said something like 40 per cent of men are now overweight, which is a staggering number, I must have misheard her on account of being in the trough at the time and getting bits of hog roast stuck in my ears. Ew.

But I noticed in the Weight Watchers bumpf this week that they are holding a 'bring a bloke' event trying to encourage more people like me to take 'those first steps'. Apparently you don't have to stand in the middle of the room and announce "My name is Simon Peevers, and I am a fat bastard", I just like to do it for effect.

Anyway, in the stuff from WW there was some other similarly shocking figure, so I think I might be onto something after all.

It's all very well for these stats to be chucked around, but the fact is more and more blokes will suffer in silence unless the diet industry starts to acknowledge our existence.

Everything I have encountered during this journey so far in terms of weight loss products, literature, groups, websites etc are all geared to women. Fairly obvious point I realise, but I guess I have been surprised that there doesn't appear to be anything that men can relate to.

All you get is the extreme body images of some of the fitness mags which have pics of not very fat blokes talking about how they lost six pounds and gained a washboard stomach in a week by running 20 miles every day. Well done you, what about trying to lose five stone, where do you start with that Mr 19-year-old-Washboard-Stomach-Idiot.

Not that I'm grouchy about it at all.

Anyway according to ITV, Yorkshire has the highest number of fat men in Britain, must be all those puddings. Is that why they voted for the BNP, because they were too fat to reach another box to tick in?

So they have drafted in Daley Thompson to train these lardie boys up to lose weight, and they will be following their progress over the next six months. Hah. As if anybody would want to follow the progress of some fat idiot puffing and panting their way to trying to lose weight, and er, run a marathon or something stupid.

I can't believe it though. Daley Thompson! I'd love to have him training me, no offence Marc.

And he'd be in less danger of getting attacked in the streets by rabid racists in Bristol than BNP HQ Yorks.

Blimey, that's all a bit political, I shall go and take my mogadon and watch Big Brother to cool my brain off.

But have to mention Banksy, I think it's great that he's rocked up in Bristol with his little exhibition. I think we should start a game called "I've just seen Banksy in..." and fill in the blanks. Something along the lines of "I've just seen Banksy in TK Maxx in Broadmead, buying a new face mask and false 'tache". Or, "I've just seen Banksy being bundled into the back of a British Transport Police van by an over zealous officer who has been waiting for this moment for some years". Maybe.

I also hope somebody goes along and subverts the whole exhibition, turning it into a gallery full of Turner and Constable works, as that would surely be quite Banksyesque wouldn't it?

I think I'm mainly in a bit of a bad mood because I ate too much crap today and feel a bit guilty and bad about it.

I had a bowl of cereal and toast for breakfast, not the worst thing to have, but had a steak sarnie on white ciabatta for lunch with my friend Claire, which was lovely and was great to see her.

But I sort of had a couple of cheese burgers for dinner.

I know it was bad but I was just tired and a bit fed up and craving something juicy. Obviously the steak at lunch wasn't enough.

So I bought a couple of good quality scotch beef burgers, and grilled them. Instead of putting them in buns though I wrapped them in low fat tortilla wraps, which I thought was pretty innovative actually, and I may discuss the idea with the Gourmet Burger Kitchen and see if I can patent the idea. I did also melt some cheddar cheese on them, so at least not processed crap.

They tasted lovely, as did the home made potato salad, which probably had a bit more mayo in than necessary. And the chocolate muffin was nice afterwards too.

I guess I'll pay for it on Monday at my weigh in, but I couldn't resist and my will was broken.

Back to good habits next week.

British Heart Foundation

I've now applied for the big one, next year's London marathon.

I won't know for a while if I've even got a place, but just filling out the online form filled me with a touch of trepidation, what if I actually have to go through with what I have so foolishly claimed I am hoping to attempt? I optimistically ticked the box for a medium sized t-shirt.

I've applied to run for the British Heart Foundation, because it's obvious really.

There are so many great causes and maybe I should have opted for something Bristol-based, but I was born with a hole in my heart which was operated on when I was a baby. And in 2007 I had another major operation to replace the aortic valve in my heart, which can best be described as being pretty much crucial to helping the blood flow round your heart. If that bad boy takes a day off, it's pretty much curtains. Now I have a metallic valve in place of the knackered one I was born with. This means, weirdly, that every time my heart beats the valve clicks open and it sounds like I've swallowed a clock. So I literally have a dicky ticker, (note correct use of the word literally which nobody seems to understand these days) although thanks to the amazing team at Southampton General Hospital it is no longer dicky.

One of the main reasons for this blog is to promote the idea of getting blokes like me to think about their health, as more and more men are dying of heart disease and becoming obese.

Every road you take back to health and fitness has to start with a healthy heart. It's called the heart, because it is at the heart of everything. I think.

I have also pledged to raise £3,000 for BHF by running the London Marathon, which to be honest seems more daunting than losing eight stone.

Fingers crossed for now though that I get a place, otherwise this whole enterprise will be a little fruitless, unless I get people to sponsor me to run up and down the Bristol to Bath cycle path for five hours in a marathon of my very own. I think we're all running our own marathons in one way or another. Certainly hitting the wall lately.

I was a bit naughty last night and went to Zizi's for spaghetti meatballs, instead of a bowl of water.

I did spend an hour in the gym though, and had a really good 45 minute run on Tuesday around the whole of the Downs in Bristol, which felt pretty good.

Just off for a fresh-air sarnie on Ryvita lite. Woop woop.

Latest weigh in - success!

Had my first weigh in for two weeks yesterday and I am now officially down to 17 st 1 lb, a total of 13 lbs lost since May 4.

That's so close to a stone (14 lbs)as makes no difference, so I'm really pleased with that, especially as I had an up-and-down week last week which included pizzas and Chinese food and loveliness like that.

It's a weird thing being weighed, I get quite nervous about it. As I go to a Monday meeting I start thinking about it on Friday and all through the weekend.

The Weight Watchers meeting I go to is in a room in a church, which is kind of appropriate if, like me, you're hoping for a miracle.

When I get there I always make sure I go to the loo first, take all the change out of my pocket, make sure I'm not wearing any heavy jumpers or thick socks, take my watch off and breathe out all the air in my body to give myself the best chance of shaving off another half a pound.

There's no challenging the scales either, it's a bit like the referee's decision, there is no appeal process. You can't get a second go, you have to accept what it says in black and LCD.

Luckily so far I have been down every week, but it can be soul destroying when you've been starving yourself all week and running up and down the M32 three times a day to find you've lost just half a pound, or nothing at all.

Worst of all is seeing you have put weight on. I crumble at that. The only thing to cure that level of misery is a BK double whopper with cheese, and onion rings. But it doesn't really help.

I've also signed up to the Weight Watchers website which apparently has lots of useful resources for people like me. I shall check it out and report back.

I reckon they could probably do with a decent blog on it though! So I shall see if I can find one to recommend to them.

on becoming a grumpy old man

Pic caption: A vision of the not too distant future.

The novelty of working in the 'virtual office' is clearly wearing thin as I am becoming more and more annoyed at the fools I have to suffer around me.

And the fact I have to keep buying lunch and coffees at various venues in order to justify sitting in there and using their wi-fi is making this all quite expensive. Perhaps I should send my bills to Orange and get them to reimburse me for every day that some nerk has failed to flick a switch and give me my broadband back.

I made the mistake of ordering an orange juice and lemonade yesterday and for the first time in my life retorted 'how much?!', when the child behind the bar informed me it was £3.10. Then, just like my dad would say, I mumbled 'could've had a pint of lager for that' as if making the point would result in the barman realising how overpriced a simple soft beverage is these days and charge me less. He just looked at me and said: "Yes, you could've".

I think it says more about the number of times I've ever ordered orange juice in a bar than the pricing structure at the particular establishment.

I think I am bit more reactionary these days. I was sat at the junction at the top of Blackboy Hill last night, on my way to meet Marc for a run, when the passenger in a 4x4 going past me started waving frantically. My immediate reaction was to scowl angrily and gesture dramatically that I had done nothing wrong, what the hell was her problem? I then realised it was a friend of mine and she was merely waving to say hello and all she got in return was a load of silent verbal from me. Perhaps I shouldn't always assume the worst.

Today I discovered one of the most annoying things about having to work in public places is the amount of silly young ladies, and boys, almost always students, who are engaged in the most inane and fatuous conversations, punctuated with shrill giggling and noisy exclamations. Whatever happened to furious political debates or plotting the downfall of the capitalist regime over a few pints of very worth lager. Jeremy Kyle and the best websites to nick essays from seem to be the topics these days. How dare they sit there having a good time, being young and beautiful and disturbing my peace by laughing so much? Don't they know the world is is full of pain and misery and people who don't pay you for work you did weeks ago!

Of course I'm just jealous and bitter about not being 20 and taught any more.

Apologies to any students who may read this, no real offence meant, I was almost certainly as much, if not more of a tw&t when I was a student. I just choose to conveniently forget that as I start my descent into early middle age.

Of course my girlfriend likes to remind that far from beginning my slide towards becoming a grumpy old man, I propelled myself headlong and arrived at Grumpsville some time ago.

But what the hell does this have to do with running?

Well, I weighed myself unofficially this morning and appear to be slipping under the 17st mark now and was 16st 12lbs. I'm pleased with that.

This followed a two mile run around Clifton Downs last night with Marc and Sarah, a friend who is only an honorary member of the Fat Bastards' Running Club, on account of not being fat, or quite obviously a bloke, or indeed a bastard.

It was still pretty hot but we managed a lap of the Downs, about 35 mins, and only a couple of stops on the way.

I'm still not feeling totally sorted after the move, the flat is still chaos, although less so, and somehow it affects my mental state as well.

Which is why I rewarded myself with a plate of seafood pasta, with half fat creme fraiche and chopped chives. Which is fine but it was followed by a couple of double chocolate cookies, I couldn't resist.

This morning I had a banana, and two more cookies for breakfast, but have been quite good for lunch with a hot chorizo and new potato salad on a bed of rocket and red onion, at the Prom.

Very nice, if a little heavy on the balsamic vinegar.

Tonight could be tricky though. Think we may be headed towards a take out from Rocco's, the Italian restaurant which does take away, which is just perfect. The excuse it that we still have lots of sorting to do in the flat, so can't really get to the cooker.

But I am planning a five mile run tomorrow, so really I need those pasta carbs.

Back to work - virtually

Pic caption: Me getting frustrated with telecoms companies. (picture posed by model)




I'm currently spending my time running between the new flat which resembles the warehouse at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (not for size obviously, but the number of boxes), and places like the Watershed and The Prom on Gloucester Road, where they have free wi-fi and I can at least do a bit of work.
Apparently, according to Orange, it can take anything between seven and fifteen days to flick a switch somewhere in cyber space that allows me to be online at home.
I am staggered that in an age where a couple of astronauts can take a socket set up into space to change a tyre on the Hubble telescope, or whatever they did, that it has to take so long to transfer your broadband, with the same company, from one phone line to another.
Still, musn't grumble. Although I do enjoy it.
But I am actually also enjoying a change in surroundings, although it can't be good for business. I've been sat in the Watershed for over an hour now and all I've had is a pint of soda, with lime, which at just £1 can't be enough to cover the electricity I'm using to power my laptop.
I did however indulge in scrambled eggs with smoked salmon on granary toast at the Prom, yesterday and today, so didn't feel so bad.
The virtual office is definitely the way forward. There are currently about four other people sat here, all of them like me, immersed in the dull glow of their laptop screens. Perhaps writing a novel, moving stocks and shares around, putting together major proposals for new businesses or, again like me, perhaps just checking out Facebook and writing nonsense emails to their mates.
I can't believe what a victim I am of all of this new technology, (new to me at least). I was stomping around and pulling my ever-decreasing hair out when I couldn't get online earlier, and realised it was just because I wanted to update my 'status'. I should just use the word 'sad' or 'too much time on my hands' in future.
But there is a woman in the corner here with what can only be described as a book, and a sheaf of paper, and appears to be scribbling symbols and signs onto it, and forming what I believe are called sentences and paragraphs. I have no idea what witchcraft she is practising, but I'm not sure I trust it. It'll never catch on mind.

I managed to go for a run last night with Marc, about 40mins. We met at 6pm and it was still really baking hot, like running through hot glue. Really hard work and I am beginning to worry a bit about being in shape for the half marathon in September. I need to start cranking up the distance. Marc has taken to literally running rings around me as we plod on, which he says helps his training. Doesn't do much for me. Think I might accidentally stick a foot out in the style of Mary Decker and Zola Budd - how old am I? - next time he tries it.

Also managed to eat a home cooked meal for the first time in four days last night, good old chicken stir fry.
I don't appear to have lost any weight over the weekend, despite my physical jerks, but also I have not put any on, despite my indulgence in take aways. So that's no bad thing, I've managed to break even and can push on from here.

Getting back on track

It's been a hell of a few days.

The whole project has gone to pot as I have been leading the charge in the battle to move house.

Since Friday I have consumed two large pizzas and one Chinese takeaway, drunk one glass of white wine and two glasses of red.

I've done no running and not seen the inside of the gym.

But, I have been working like a Trojan to get moved into the new place.

We started shifting boxes on Saturday morning and didn't stop until Monday at 3pm.

On Sunday Amy and I spent 15 hours lifting and shifting. I don't think I have ever worked so hard physically. Thanks go to Dave for helping on Saturday.

Add to all that effort the hottest weekend since the universe was formed, it felt like, and it resembled something out of a war film at times.

Battered, bruised and generally rinsed out is pretty much how we felt last night as we made it round to Amici on Gloucester Road near our new home for a huge pizza and a couple off well-earned glassed of vino.

So after three days of toil I will actually be really annoyed if I've put any weight on, as there's no way I would work that hard normally.

But I will have to wait until next Monday to find out as I missed this week's Weight Watchers meeting due to above mentioned toil. Last time I went on our dodgy scales in the bathroom I was down to 17 stone, which is a full stone in about a month, but it's not official yet. It's a bit like the Olympics, it has to be measured under competition conditions.

Now the real work begins trying to find space for all the unbelievably massive amount of crap we both seem to have amassed.