So yesterday I learned two things. I learned that it’s possible to survive two days of conference without eating my own bodyweight in crap. I think it’s the first time ever. And although there was an incident with half a glass of prosecco and two bags of Scampi Fries on Wednesday evening, I’m still claiming it as a victory because forty minutes in the pool more than covered the calories, so I paid my dieting debt and then some.
On the other hand, I learned that it’s not possible to drive the one hundred and thirty miles home with a large carton of cherries on the passenger seat without incident. Like 400 grams’ worth of incident. I was only going to have one or two, but I walked through my front door clutching a carton full of nothing except stalks and stones.
Not surprisingly, overnight I also leaned that eating 400 grams’ worth of cherries all in one go is not compatible with a good night’s sleep although to be fair, after multiple trips to the bathroom I should’ve been at least ten pounds lighter by the time my alarm went off.
Every day’s a lesson, right?
Checking out of the hotel yesterday I felt so smug, like I was unbreakable and I wanted to tell the world about my will of iron. Not even half an hour later, faced with a large carton of cherries I’m a fucking pushover…I wouldn’t care, I only bought them because I noticed they’d been reduced in price when I stopped to buy fuel. Will of iron my arse.
Whatever. I’ve spent the last two days sidestepping bowls of boiled sweets, ignoring the mocked-up tuck shop that had been set out in the corner of the conference room for anybody to just dive right in and bypassing the burgers and sausages and fancy coleslaw on barbecue night in favour of chicken and salad.
I’ve had no chocolate and no dessert, and I shunned the big cooked hotel breakfasts in favour of skinny girl choices. I swam both days, and we had an escorted walking tour around Stratford-Upon-Avon after lunch on Wednesday which put a couple of miles under my feet. I pulled it off, so throwing caution to the wind and vaporising a ton of cherries isn’t worth wasting any angst over. For what it’s worth they were bloody lovely, even if they should’ve lasted me at least three days.
So anyway, with conference well and truly over, my thoughts are turning to the weekend. Are you up to much?
Back in March, when July seemed like a lifetime away (and I’m bound to be skinny by then, right?) in a moment of madness I thought it might be fun to run a 5k obstacle course and haul myself over a load of giant inflatables whilst folk chuck paint at me on the way round. So I signed up to do it with a bunch of crazy-assed friends, and it’s come around rather more quickly than I expected. Like, it’s tomorrow.
The thing is, I appear to be still fat with a dodgy knee.