Today I am sore and tired and pissed off because I weighed myself this morning and have lost a sum total of ...nothing. Hoo-fucking-ray. Don't wish to dwell on this too much as it will be counterproductive. I've actually had a really good week and a half of eating well and exercising and feeding the mind with positive weight loss vibes and I don't know whether it's delusion or the exercise but I do feel thinner. But the numbers haven't shifted and that's all that counts, apparently, It's not, but I'm not successfully convincing myself of that right now. Normal service will resume shortly, I'm sure.
ME still kicking in various degrees meaning I am glandy and sore and have been doing a fair bit of walking from which today I am also sore. No pain, no gain, or something, she said through gritted teeth...
Right, that's my wallow, I have had my sook now and this is where I am today but it doesn't have to be where I am tomorrow or next week or next year. So let's move on, shall we?
Got my pack today for the Miles for Macmillan walk I'm doing in September. Will be walking eight miles (that's nearly 13km for the Aussies) which is about four more than I can do comfortably right now so have some serious training to do to pull this one off. Earlier this year I had the slightly mental idea to do the Edinburgh Moonwalk, which is a walking marathon, and did actually enter the thing but got derailed with a knee injury and wound up not being able to do it. Realistically it was probably biting off more than I could chew, injury or not, but that's the way I roll. All or nothing!!! Rrraaaarrrh!!!
I figure that eight miles is enough of a challenge to feel like I've achieved something, but not so outrageous that I'll wind up stuffing it up. So the best of both worlds, hopefully. In my 'fight smarter not harder' mindset of late I've been looking at walking poles this morning in an attempt to help me along a bit. Apart from being a bit of a whackjob with ME, I also have some orthopaedic/balance issues due to having my ankle fused after a really bad break in my early 20s. Some people break bones, Sandy shatters an ankle joint and breaks the leg bone an inch above the base, requiring pins and three operations...the third one to rebreak and fuse the joint because it set badly and was fucking agonisingly painful. Told you I was all or nothing!
I can walk all right these days but get quite wobbly when I start getting tired, which is how I did my knee in earlier this year. I figure the walking pole will add some balance allowing me to go a bit faster and further in a safer fashion. It might make me look like a bit of a nong waking around nicely paved footpaths but it's not like I've never looked like a nong before, so pfffftttt. Nong is Aussie for idiot, by the way. I'm now an international expert in looking like a nong, no no problems there.
So low mood and pain aside there's still goals and aspirations and plans and the will to make it all happen in Sandy and that's not such a bad place to be, is it? No, it's not. Right. Deep breath and keep moving.
LATE AFTERNOON UPDATE: have now been for a 3.3 mile walk. In your face, sooky-la-la attitude!!!!
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