Dieting and I don't really mix.
I've been seeing this personal trainer for a wee while now. After about six weeks, when he realised I was serious, he weighed me. That was about a month ago. By that stage I had probably lost around 2.5kg. I wasn't doing much running, just interval running on the treadmill. He weighed me on Wednesday. After another five weeks or so I had lost weight! Yayyy!! A whole massive TEN GRAMS. Yes. Ten grams. You know why? Because I started running again. And running makes me want to eat my steering wheel. Running makes me eat like someone who has never seen food in their lives before. Running makes me dream about food. Running makes me want to eat bread. And rice. And pasta. And it totally fucks up my weight loss. So matey personal trainer man goes "so why do you run then?". And I thought about it, and I answered, really really honestly "because I love it". But clearly running longer distances and running frequently just aren't for me. Which is very sad. I was feeling smug and skinny about four weeks ago. Since then I ramped up my training and I am feeling fat and wretched. Again. So - apart from a really good bout of Amoebic Dysentry I don't think I am going to be seeing the other side of sixty kilos for quite some time, in fact, I will be 90 and will have shrunk to be even smaller and maybe that will make me lighter if I am lucky. Mr Personal Trainer man did measure me and I have lost two centimetres off one arm but appear to have put it back on the other arm, lost 1 massive cm off my waist and another two off my arse. Oh and two centimetres off each leg. So I bought scales today to install in my city home which hopefully will serve as a reminder to my pea brain that lovely yummy city food = big fat arse.
Anyway, in protest, today I didn't run. Mind you I slept until 10.30 and had lots to do so the opportunity sort of escaped me. I am going to do the half next week and then the Blackmores half and then the first in the Running Wild series and then maybe call it a day with training specifically for distance, and just go back to my little 6km runs that seemed to work for me. I love the whole idea of turning up to races and taking part, but if this is always the outcome, then there really is no point, because I end up hating myself.
I've been seeing this personal trainer for a wee while now. After about six weeks, when he realised I was serious, he weighed me. That was about a month ago. By that stage I had probably lost around 2.5kg. I wasn't doing much running, just interval running on the treadmill. He weighed me on Wednesday. After another five weeks or so I had lost weight! Yayyy!! A whole massive TEN GRAMS. Yes. Ten grams. You know why? Because I started running again. And running makes me want to eat my steering wheel. Running makes me eat like someone who has never seen food in their lives before. Running makes me dream about food. Running makes me want to eat bread. And rice. And pasta. And it totally fucks up my weight loss. So matey personal trainer man goes "so why do you run then?". And I thought about it, and I answered, really really honestly "because I love it". But clearly running longer distances and running frequently just aren't for me. Which is very sad. I was feeling smug and skinny about four weeks ago. Since then I ramped up my training and I am feeling fat and wretched. Again. So - apart from a really good bout of Amoebic Dysentry I don't think I am going to be seeing the other side of sixty kilos for quite some time, in fact, I will be 90 and will have shrunk to be even smaller and maybe that will make me lighter if I am lucky. Mr Personal Trainer man did measure me and I have lost two centimetres off one arm but appear to have put it back on the other arm, lost 1 massive cm off my waist and another two off my arse. Oh and two centimetres off each leg. So I bought scales today to install in my city home which hopefully will serve as a reminder to my pea brain that lovely yummy city food = big fat arse.
Anyway, in protest, today I didn't run. Mind you I slept until 10.30 and had lots to do so the opportunity sort of escaped me. I am going to do the half next week and then the Blackmores half and then the first in the Running Wild series and then maybe call it a day with training specifically for distance, and just go back to my little 6km runs that seemed to work for me. I love the whole idea of turning up to races and taking part, but if this is always the outcome, then there really is no point, because I end up hating myself.
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