Pigged Out

Well, tomorrow it's one week of from receiving the hard word from the practice nurse concerning my raised blood pressure.

How is it going, I hear you say?

We-e-e-ll, actually not too bad! I've adopted a far healthier eating pattern: bowl of low fat cereal first thing, 100cal snack mid-morning, lunch consisting of a pitta stuffed with salad and a dessert spoon full of houmous, 2 portions of fruit, mid afternoon cup of tea with low fat/low sugar snack and dinner consisting of two pittas stuffed with salad and a can of healthy eating tuna with some sort of dressing. I'm allowing myself a postage-stamp size portion of any dessert that's going, 2 squares of 85% cocoa-solid chocolate when desperate for a treat, and a regular sized of red wine with my weekend evening dinners. I've taken to power-walking as and when I can (for example, into an out of town, a good 20mins either way), and I've rejoined the gym (at vast expense, but I don't, as I've said before, want to have a stroke), more of which anon.
I'v also purchased a RespErate breathing coaching machine: it's supposed to reduce your BP by encouraging you to breathe more slowly thus causing your heart to slow and your blood vessels to relax. In fact, after the initial session today my BP registered at a very healthy 145/82, a good ten points down on both readings! Most encouraging! It's also recommended for relaxation and stress-relief too, so a bonus there - I'm aiming to do two 15 mins sessions a day.
It's going to be quite tricky to fit everything into my new regime, which includes a number of academic new-year's resolutions, and keep on course with writing up my thesis. Extra organisation will be required to make sure no one project slips, but when it comes to organising I'm as happy as a pig in what's-its-name!

Head Down

I've spent most of the past few days sitting in front of the computer working on my doctoral studies. The weather has been very wet and windy, so the idea of venturing out hasn't been that appealing. This means that I'm rattling along nicely with my chapters and getting into the swing of dedicating most of my day to study. But I'm very aware that most of my day is spent pretty well motionless, and what with the temptation to punctuate thought with a coffee break (and a biscuit, of course) it's not a recipe for healthy living. I've long since given up the pretension of going to the gym. Just before the summer holidays (while I was still doing my PhD part-time), I made a few desultory attempts to go, but I resented the time spent on boring cardio work and kept putting my neck out with weights. I had a bit of an epiphany when I looked about and saw all these grim, humourless faces pounging it out on the treadmills like raddled hamsters and thought 'God! They're so busy trying to stay fit and prolong their lives that they are no longer enjoying them!' So I never went back, despite the fact my membership doesn't run out 'til February. They can keep it - the point of life is life, as Goethe said. Now I'm studying full-time, and being paid for it, I really can't spare the sort of time required to make a difference.
That being said, if the weather's good, we walk the school-run (dog in tow, a mile there and a mile back), and I'll walk at a brisk pace into the middle of town if I feel like a break. I used to quite enjoy swimming, but because I do that stupid woman-keeping-head-out-of-chlorinated-water swimming style, my neck wasn't too good after it. Plus I resented the inordinate time it seemed to take to get showered, wash my hair, get dried and dressed again. I guess I'm either lazy, or impatient, or possibly both.
There's something about the dark evenings that encourage eating large amounts of carbs too: pasta, pies, mash, baked spuds...and a nice glass of wine too, before snuggling torpidly down on the sofa for David Attenborough. The Christmas hols aren't too far off either, and although they are trying for a number of different reasons (see last Christmas's posts), this year I am rather looking forward to the blurring of the presently sharply-defined compartments of the daily routine. Sherry for elevenses, anyone?

A Bit Thin...

Well, the husband performed brilliantly at the English Indoor Rowing Championships last Sunday, and I'm immensely proud of both his performance and the dedication it took him to get there. He came up trumps for the competition and knocked 5 seconds off his personal best. A week of careful training and carb-loading seems to have paid dividends. It was all rather exciting: the pre-dawn departure, the drive acrosss the snowily spectacular Pennines and the buzz that always surrounds a gathering of like-minded individuals in competition. I have to admit that I'm quite tempted to train up for the British Championships myself - there seems to be a dearth of competition in the female heavyweight 50-59 year-old class. Just to check the feasibility of this I jumped onto the rowing machine at the gym the other day and put in a 500m sprint at 2mins 10seconds. Not brilliant, I'll admit, but I had just done half an hour of pretty intense cycling (14 km) so I reckon that with a bit of practice I could whittle that down a bit. the winning time for the first 'lady' was 1min 45....so there's something to aim at. I don't think I could do the 2000m though....far to much like hard work!

The new exercise regime seems to be working out quite well. In going to the gym just after the school run, I manage to minimise the disruption to the working day, being back at my desk mid-morning, energised and raring to go. My thought processes seem more cogent too, probably as a result of the extra oxygen being pushed round my reluctant and sluggish system, plus the endorphins released. I am actually starting to look forward to the sessions now, rather than search for reasons to avoid going. I do feel much better than I did even a couple of weeks ago, when the post-virus malaise was still lingering. I feel more positive than I have for months, optimistic and organised. The rapidly increasing daylight hours help a lot as well.

As I was walking the dog the other day in the bitingly cold (for England) winds, I encountered an ol chap and had an exchange of words that, I reflected, would be almost unintelligible to anyone from outside Yorkshire.

"A bit thin" he said. I agreed. "Still" he continued "We're going the right way now."

My thoughts entirely.