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Rebel Without A Cause

In the here & now, , ,

aaargh

Today’s a new day…it’s a good job, yesterday was shit. My operating system crashed and I was temporarily under the influence of the Asshole voice who was in fine form. I felt slightly bilious when I woke up this morning and it’s hardly surprising…I’m not sure whether it was the half pack of Jaffa Cakes which did it, or whether the two packets of cheese and onion crisps that came immediately before the Jaffa Cakes are the real culprit. Whichever way up you look at it, my diet went to hell in a handcart yesterday. I was bad.

I don’t know why exactly, although I’ve got to be honest I think the pressure of this trek is starting to bite – we leave three weeks tomorrow and it’s all getting very real. The application has gone in for my visa, and I’ve had the first three of six vaccinations that I need…the rest will follow on Thursday this week, next week and then on the actual day of departure, not that I’ve been putting them off or anything. MUCH. My medical form is signed, and I’m busy getting my head around the kit list. I’m really fucking doing this, and I’m standing in that place between excited and terrified, you know?

One or two of you have asked exactly what we’re going to be doing, so here’s a sneaky peak at the itinerary…

Day 1 – Friday 7th October we leave the UK on our flight to Havana, via Madrid of all places. They clearly went cheap option on the flight…on arrival, we meet our local guides and transfer to our hotel.

Day 2 – Drive to Santa Clara and to Lake Hanabanilla – Transfer to Santa Clara where we visit the Che Mausoleum. We continue to our hotel on the banks of Lake Hanabanilla.

Day 3 – Lake Hannabanilla to Guanayara – the trekking starts here. This morning we get the boat across Hanabanilla Reservoir to the southernmost tip of the lake, and then trek for 13km on jeep tracks along a finger of the lake and upstream above the Rio Guanayara. Trekking distance – approx 18km. I’d love to say that at the end of this day we’ll be retiring to a comfortable hotel for a hot bath and maybe a spa treatment but sadly all we get is a tent. With bugs. I’m so not feeling this.

Day 4 – Guanayara to Codina – A tougher trek awaits us as we climb from 380m to 750m. After a long walk yesterday and a night in a tent. Hmmm. Trekking distance – approx. 21km and then another tent. FML.

Day 5 – Codina to Topes de Collantes – Trek for 1½ hours through cafetales to an experimental farm. From here it is 45 minutes down to La Batata. We have lunch at Casa de Juarez followed by a short, steep climb to the hotel for a mid-afternoon arrival and rest. Trekking distance – approx. 14km. I’m liking the sound of this day a bit more to be honest…at least it ends with a mattress and hot and cold running water, right?

Day 6 – Topes de Collantes to Mi Retiro – The toughest but probably most enjoyable day of the challenge. Trek to Caburni Falls along a well-maintained path but testing nonetheless. A narrow path through the jungle leads to Vegas Grandes Falls. After lunch trek through villages to reach Mi Retiro restaurant for an early dinner and then transfer back to our hotel. Trekking distance – approx. 22km. Wow, that’s long.

Day 7 – Topes de Collantes to El Cubano – The day begins with a 20/30 minute transfer. We set off trekking for 2 – 2½ hours along a hillside path to Casa de Ignacio. We continue trekking to Casa de Fabian. Trek to the spectacular Caballero waterfall for a swim in the crystal-clear pool. Well, I say that…some of my fellow travellers might well have a swim but I’m here to tell you you’re not getting me in that water. Unless it’s got tiles on the bottom and no pond-life. From here 45 minutes to the finishing line over a suspension bridge at El Cubano. We then transfer to Trinidad to overnight in a hotel. Trekking distance – approx. 15km. At this point I will be crying with relief, hugging anyone who stands still long enough and taking selfies in front of anything that says Finish Line.

Day 8 – Trinidad and Havana – We have a free morning to sight see in Trinidad. Well, if I can still walk, obviously. Late morning we set off for Havana, having lunch en route in Cienfuegos. We reach Havana and have some free time before enjoying our celebratory dinner.

Day 9 – We are free at leisure until our transfer to the airport for our flight back to the UK.

Day 10 – We land back in the UK having arsed about in Madrid for a bit on the way back.

So, it sounds awesome, right? Yesterday I was convinced I wasn’t ready. Yesterday, I would’ve sold my granny for another six months’ worth of training and dieting before I had to set foot on Cuban soil…I had one of those days where the reality of exactly what I’ve taken on pushed me into a tailspin, and somehow eating crisps and Jaffa Cakes was supposed to help. It didn’t, in case you were wondering.

With today’s more logical perspective I can see I was rebelling…against what exactly, well your guess is as good as mine. I think the pressure got to me, and my sore arm after the shots I had to get tipped me over the edge. I went to an exercise class and then came home and ate my own bodyweight in crap. I am ready. I’ve worked incredibly hard, in fact I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at the preparation for this challenge…damn straight I’m ready.

Like I said, today’s a new day. I’m in deficit at this point on the week…work to do then. Come on, lets keep trucking.

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Spending What I’ve Earned *Cough*

In the here & now, , , ,

icecream

So, I was telling you about my holiday…we got as far as Tuesday, and the first sign of wobbly wheels if I recall. It was fine, I mean nothing disastrous. I’d climbed the steps which would have counteracted some of the naughtiness at dinner that evening. Just not all of it. It might have brought me safely over the line of three courses. Maybe. But not five, and definitely not the cheese board.

That said, I enjoyed every mouthful, and the Asshole voice talked me into being okay about it with a fine selection of reasons why…the steps, the walking, you’re on holiday, everybody deserves a treat, you can’t expect your friend to eat alone, you’re doing a big hike tomorrow, you’ve deprived yourself for a whole fucking year and you deserve this…

And it’s true, I was doing a big hike the next day. Which seemed to offset a whole host of eating opportunities, in fact it would be fair to say there was definitely a bit of creative accounting going on. Let’s count them…you’d better have a good breakfast, you’ll need the energy. (Number 1) – Cue full English breakfast, on account of the fact that we were meeting for the hike at 12.20pm and wouldn’t be eating lunch. That’s plausible, right? Most important meal of the day and all that.

And after that big breakfast we had a busy morning…Wednesday was Geirangerfjord, a stunning village at the foot of the enormous mountain I was going to hike up in the afternoon on an organised excursion. My friend and I walked a fair distance as we explored, climbing at least as many steps as I’d done the day before only this time it was up the side of a waterfall. It was so pretty I forgot to notice how much effort it took to get up there you know?

When we got back down to the village there was a little cafe selling ice-cream, and Asshole logic suggested that a small snack might be in order whilst I waited for my tour group, seeing as I’d used up quite a lot of energy climbing the waterfall. I’m not sure three scoops in a cone the size of a small hat was absolutely necessary but hey, I was hiking up a mountain, so I’d burn that off in no time, right? (Number 2).

And then the hike…man that was hardcore. We walked about three and a half miles, to a height of around 650m and it was challenging walking, with a guide who must have been some distant relative of Usain Bolt. At one point I thought perhaps my lungs were going to explode, but I just pushed through it, and powered as I was by mint choc-chip, pistachio and rum and raisin ice cream I made it to the top, and the waterfall we’d gone to see was spectacular.

I’ve got to be honest, it was worth the climb. We were looking down on the clouds as they blew in and out, and when they cleared the views were breathtaking. And I felt genuinely on top of the world, it was certainly the most physically challenging thing I’ve done to date but I did it, and what’s more there were younger fitter folk who took longer to get up there than I did. It seems I have some grit when it’s needed…who knew? Coming down was tough on the knees and I was glad to get back to the valley, but all in all it was an awesome experience.

Before we went back to the ship they took us to a little farm nestled against the hillside where they served us coffee and big fat waffles loaded with jam and cream. I was going to say no thanks, but before I had chance, yes please came out. Fuck. But it was okay, because I’d just climbed a mountain, right? I’d earned that waffle. (Number 3)

When I finally got back on the ship, my friend had bagged a table in the pool bar out on deck at the very back of the ship so we could enjoy the sail-away from the best seat in the house, and we ordered a bottle of wine, which to be honest barely touched the sides as it went down. Shall we have another..? Oh go on then…be rude not to…things got a little jumbled after that.

I remember us deciding that since the scenery was so stunning we’d forget about dressing for dinner and we’d stay up on deck, grabbing something from the buffet to eat where we were sitting. Never a good idea when you’ve got a couple of bottles of wine under your belt, especially when you fancy everything on the buffet and you can keep going back for more. And double especially when you’ve climbed a mountain and feel like you’ve earned a bit of what you fancy, having conveniently forgotten that you’ve already spent anything you’ve earned twice over, on the full English, the whopper ice-cream, the fully loaded waffle and two bottles of wine.

And best not get me started on the rocky road dessert. I had at least one whilst we were up on deck and I seem to remember taking one down to the cabin with me when we made our way to bed much, much later that night. Actually that’s not strictly true, I don’t remember doing that per se but the empty dish was there when I woke up and there was a spoon in bed with me.

I shall complete my holiday memoir in the next post. For now, let’s just say I’m in the process of dealing with the aftermath..  🙂

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Me And My Big Mouth

In the here & now, , , ,

So I reached Thursday this week without having visited the Kingdom of Pain since the weekend. It wasn’t by choice, I promise, I’ve just had a crazy work schedule this week. I don’t go on Mondays because God of Pain has a stand-in (even Guru’s have to take a day off, right?) and it’s not the same. Tuesday I had early meetings followed at the end of the day by dinner with our new boss, and Wednesday was a proper killer. I had a 3.45am alarm call to get a 5am train and it was almost 7pm when I got back home, so fitting in a class just wasn’t humanly possible until yesterday.

And somehow that made yesterday feel really hard. I did not want to go do that early workout, for the first time in ages. I laid in bed when my alarm went off, running through pretty much the whole of the Asshole’s repertoire you know? Stay in bed, you had such a long day yesterday, you’re too old for this shit…today you should scrape by with the bare minimum, conserve your energy and take a load off…you need a rest. You might hurt yourself if you’re tired…blah blah blah.

I went, of course I went but the going sort of teetered on a knife-edge for a moment. The only thing less appealing than dragging my sorry ass out of bed was cancelling the session and getting nailed by the full force of his disapproval. And I felt so guilty at the way I’d tried to talk myself out of going that I went from one extreme to the other and shot my mouth off, totally putting the kibosh on all things naughty whilst I’m away on holiday in the next couple of weeks.

I think the blood must have rushed to my head or something as I jogged on the spot in-between torture stations, because I only went and made a point of telling him that I was going away, and requested, yes requested that he personally weigh me next Friday before I leave, and again a week on Sunday when we get back to make sure I haven’t put any weight on over the course of my cruise.

I mean WTF?? I earned an approving nod of his head as he agreed to it. Well of course he fucking agreed to it, he’s the actual diet police. I can’t think of a more effective way to make absolutely sure I stick to my food plan.

What usually happens when I’m presented with something I shouldn’t eat but really want, is that you’ll hear me say no…no really I’m sure…yes very sure thanks…oh fuck it go on then. I guess I’ve shut the door on that one, right? And you know what it’s like on a cruise, there are chefs hiding around every corner waiting to force-feed you cake. Step on like a girl, step off like a foie gras.

There’s two big reasons why I need to hit this with a straight bat – firstly if I don’t, and I have a week long chew-fest, no way will I be able to get back in the game when I get home. Secondly it’s taken me the last two months to lose ten pounds, and I could put all that back on in the course of a week, and then some…I’ve done it many times and it’s just not worth it.

Plus which, I’ve got to admit as I dress for my skinny dinners in one of my new little size 18 numbers, not feeling like Shamu in a frock is going to really help in the willpower department, you know? And imagine, clothes that fit me as we set sail still fitting me as we arrive back into port…I don’t think that’s ever happened before 🙂

Anyway, I’m just home from doing the ‘muffin tops and bingo wings class’, which is it’s own little world of pain. Tonight I’m boxing, and tomorrow a bunch of us from the Kingdom of Pain are going to conquer Pen Y Ghent, which is a 6 mile walk up one of Yorkshire’s peaks. At almost 700m it’s not far short of the mountain in Cuba that I’ll be looking at in a few weeks’ time. Then Sunday I’m back for the circuit training and boxing combo to kick off my last pre-holiday week.

Have an awesome weekend chaps 🙂

Before you go, we have a new contributor on the Guest Spot – Thoughts From The Posse Page if you’d like to check it out…Deb is an accidental guest writer, since I pulled the words from a note she sent me rather than her setting out to write a post but I could relate to every word, and I’m sure she’d benefit from a little encouragement from the posse. Knowing other people had walked a mile in my shoes when I started my journey helped me no end…you’re a bunch of wise old owls 🙂

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Naughty Loves Company

In the here & now, , , ,

naughty

So I survived yet another new-to-me class yesterday morning in the Kingdom of Pain, called Shape Attack. Walking into the building at 06h30 knowing my shape was going to be under attack for the next hour didn’t exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside but I’m definitely getting used to the scary names. In terms of managing my expectations, they work really well…I can hazard my best guess at what’s coming.

I quite like going to classes I haven’t been to before…it’s possible to go through a whole hour with hope in your heart that the next exercise is going to be a bit easier than the one that’s killing you right now, whereas in the ones I’m more familiar with all hope of that dies before I even walk through the door.

Given that the God of Pain is busy sunning his buns on holiday, a lady I haven’t met before was running the session and I must admit at first look I thought I might need to be a bit scared, I mean this girl had muscles. Not in a looks like a bloke kind of way, far from it in fact. Seriously, she was just body perfect from head to toe.

There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t toned or sculpted. Maybe she shot out of the womb doing bicep curls or something, because she’s clearly been at this for years. At one point she reached for the mobile phone which was driving the music, and about ten muscles popped out to have a look around…way to go to make a fat fifty year old feel fat and fifty.

She was actually lovely, in between the bits where she pretty much tried to kill me, and I survived the experience having shuffled and grunted my way through her own particular brand of torture.

So you’d think, that having greeted the day by attacking my shape for a whole hour before even hitting the shower, I’d be nicely set up for an on-track day where my eating was concerned wouldn’t you? I thought that too. I was all over it, I stopped at the supermarket on my way to work and bought prawns to have with a salad at lunchtime, and lots of fruit to get me through the day from a snacking perspective.

And it was all going really well, until mid afternoon when my friend uttered the words I fancy some chocolate…and that’s all it took.

On the outside, she got a skinny-girl response. I held up a bunch of bananas and offered her one, you know encouraging her to stick to her diet and satisfy her craving with a suitable alternative. Right on cue, the Asshole voice jumped in with FUCK OFF WITH YOUR BANANAS, I WANT CHOCOLATE TOO!! And then refused to leave me alone for the rest of the afternoon.

Since no chocolate was easily accessible (except the Mars Bar sitting on the desk next-but-one to mine, which was immediately placed under surveillance by its owner) the craving almost passed. I thought I’d dodged the bullet. All until I found myself near reception, where they actually have a box of naughties which you can plunder in exchange for a donation to charity. And my chocolate-fancying friend, who was with me started having a root through the goodies. So of course, I did too. Naughty loves company, right?

And that’s how I ended up with a slab of ‘dark chocolate cherry crunchy cake’ on my desk. Which, in the end didn’t taste of dark chocolate. Or cherries come to think of it. It wasn’t even particularly crunchy if I’m being completely honest. After the first bite I suspected it. After the second bite I was pretty sure, but it was only after I’d polished off all seventeen fucking points’ worth that I knew for certain it wasn’t actually that nice.

It’s safe to say dinner was a little bit lean last night…so much for my clean eating week. Two steps forward, one step back…muppet 🙂

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Eating My Efforts

In the here & now, , ,

veggies

So I’ve got about a week and a half of exercise classes under my belt, and despite continuing to fantasise about my old life in the armchair, the asshole voice in my head hasn’t really made any significant dink in my determination to drag this fat old body to a better place. Between you and me, I reckon we’re both a bit scared of pissing off the God of Pain. Who, by the way critiqued my food diary before the weekend and made it clear I had to do better…it didn’t pass muster.

Which made me think. I’d stayed within points. Sort of. Well I had, it’s just that I’d used up all my exercise points too, of which I’d earned loads because I did loads. So I ate loads. God forbid that all that effort should go unrewarded, right? God forbid that so much as one point to which I’m entitled might sneak by uneaten…not on my watch.

And, dammit, I realised that the asshole voice had sneaked in through the back door and presented a very compelling argument that since I was working so hard, all those extra points I’d earned could be spent on whatever I liked.

Which is how come my food diary was peppered with two sticks of chocolate here, and a handful of Pringles there…looking from the outside in, I can see why I deserved harsh words. It probably didn’t read like the food diary of someone who was determined to lose weight, you know? Viewed from an athlete’s perspective, my fat-girl thinking stuck out like a sore thumb.

And hands up, it’s a fair cop – the needle didn’t move on the scale this week. I ate within points starts to sound a bit hollow when I’m faced with the reality that I’m in exactly the same place that I was in last week – all that effort, and all those sore muscles just to stand still.

Even as I’m writing this, the asshole voice is busy being all outraged and trying to convince me that muscle weighs heavier than fat, and that I’ve actually lost weight and gained muscle…yeah, nice try dickhead, technically that may be the case but after one week and change I’m not buying it. I just ate my efforts, is the long and short of it.

The additional points that all my hard work brought home should’ve been points in the bank, but in exactly the same way that I’m hopeless at saving money, there were available food funds which burned a hole right through my pocket and I pretty much ate them as soon as I’d earned them, on the basis that I was allowed. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Hmm…innocent face my arse, I wasn’t doing it right either.

So, lesson learned… time to regroup. God of Pain gave me a suggested diet plan which is all around clean eating and to be fair, it’s not a million miles away from what I’ve been eating, just without the crap that wormed its way in through the back door. I’m not going to stop counting Weight Watchers Smart Points, even though he doesn’t approve of diets…but, I take his point about when I’m eating and more importantly when I’m not eating. I can do better.

I’m going to go for a turbo-charged week. I’m going to eat well, space it out properly, carbs before a workout, protein after, and no crap…I refuse to tread water for another week because of what I’m putting in my mouth when I’m sweating my cahoonies off on a daily basis to support my journey. This week, I’m going to make every bead of sweat count 🙂

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