I start to get pain in my knee from a once upon a time 2 years ago when I rolled over in bed in the middle of the night and left my knee behind. So, I buy a knee support, and wearing it makes me feel like the Terminator. The feeling of omnipotence and part-woman, part-machine doesn't last, however, as I baa-baa-black-sheep my way back into the mindless circuit of lunges with hammer curls and exercises which are too hard for me. It's like one of those problems you are given when you are little: one of these is not like the other - the eponymous muscular bawling woman at the front, the smiling two ladies in back and then the red-faced flapping buffoon trying to emulate them from the 'couldn't swing a cat' space of her bedroom.
It leaves me discouraged when I don't have the energy, strength or inclination to do the exercises. First, I'm discouraged, which then brings the lack of inclination. If I can't do something, I pretty much find that I won't really try with the other exercises either.
All this culminates in giving myself more than just one day off... and a trip to Nottingham, where it is much more difficult to control what I'm eating just makes me fill with dread and feel more discouraged. My plan in Nottingham had been to just do the exercises not requiring weights, such as abs and cardio, and to try and eat a lot of fruit. This becomes incredibly difficult at meal times when there is a limit to what I can prepare for myself in my hotel room with only a kettle with which to boil hot water, and the fact that my suitcase takes up the tiny amount of floor space available.
So, I eat junk food for 3 days. And when I get back it's almost the weekend, which is always a tough time for me. I let Kiwi take me out to dinner, and then the next day, his parents want to take us out for lunch. I develop this habit of anxiously chewing my lip, trying to calculate the calories I'm consuming versus the exercise I'm actually completing. My obsession with this stems from the fact that I feel so pissed off at myself; I should be able to complete stage two, but the fact that I just can't be bothered to continue when I can't do something spirals me into anxiously counting everything I put in my mouth.
My mind begins to swirl with numbers and it's not a good way to be. I feel like I'm losing both enthusiasm and the reasoning behind this self-inflicted torture.
Thankfully, there is respite with the end of stage two. And I lost some weight. Not much, but considering the knee injury, the days off lying in bed dreading this new form of torture and the huge amounts of bad food I've been eating, I feel pleased that there's even a loss, however small.
So, my stats for this round:
Before shred: 9 st 7/60 kg/132 lbs (though these results are most likely erroneous)
After stage one: 8 st 13/56 kg/125 lbs
After stage two: 8 st 12/55 kg/124 lbs
Considering I've had what would be termed as a bad run, I'm not too concerned. Obviously, I'm disappointed, but the fact I lost weight at all, through the junk food, the meals out and the injuries and days off means that I'm still alright about it.
I privately resolve to make it up to myself, and this week, in light of my fiendish calorie-counting ways, I'm going back to level one, to both give myself a 'break' and to give myself a good half-hour of solid exercise every day, rather than dribs and drabs of fairly unenthusiastic exercise. I also want to give my knee a break, and to give my brain something new to focus on.
What I've learned from stage two:
- It's okay not to be super-woman and to not be able to do everything in the harder modification of the exercises as that's not the point.
- Stop feeling discouraged and disappointed in myself as it's not conducive to weight-loss or energy levels.
- Stop counting the calories so much and just focus on eating well - be happy!