Lost and Found . . . Confidence

Aren't you always astounded when you hear friends or family berate themselves for something they've done badly or perhaps the way they look.  Comparing themselves to others unfavourably.  And when someone you love or care about does that, it can make you wince, or perhaps feel a little hurt that they can be so hard on themselves.  You know that they wouldn't ever talk to their friends in such a mean way so why is it OK to talk so harshly to ourselves in that way?

To those of you reading this who have never encountered the brutality of ones own inner harsh critic then you are indeed blessed.

Bullying is Cruel

To the unsuspecting and unprepared mind this is something that many of us do to ourselves, and we continue to let it happen.  I have done this for many, many years and have, I believe, kept up a fabulous facade of wonderfulnuss.  I'd like to remove the facade now, go down to the bare bricks and demonstrate over the coming weeks and months how hypnosis has and is changing my own personal bully and giving him the proverbial kick up the butt that he so rightly deserves.

Self Deprecation is Funny, Isn't it?

Don't we all laugh at those of us who take the mickey out of ourselves in good humour. After all, if we take the mickey out of ourselves, it's OK. Isn't it?  It depends I suppose. All to often the bully wins, and the loudest bullies have their host perhaps overeating, drinking too much, smoking . . . I'm sure there are too many for me to write here. We all know that bullying must be stopped and that has to include the bully in our minds.

Kicking my Bully in to Touch

I have been extraordinarily lucky, I believe, to have mostly told mine to 'add expletive of choice here' right off.  But sometimes he can rear his ugly head and get loud and nasty. He's been around recently and he's not very nice . . . Insults about looks generally; You look like 200lbs of chewed bubblegum, yeuch (after view in the mirror), you'll never get fit etc the list goes on. But now I have the mental equivalent of ninja tactics at my disposal.


After the parkrun
My results came through and after my initial euphoria of doing running the course my euphoria gave way to disappointment.  I questioned how fast I was getting fit?  It didn't seem enough?  I questioned my natural ability to get fit? Maybe I couldn't? Maybe I wasn't doing enough.  A general mental beating up.

Illness Hampers Progress
Goddammit. I'm supposed to be a paragon of health and fitness now that I've stopped smoking, started running and I've been plagued with more illness now compared to when my lifestyle was less than healthy!  A migraine wiped me out last Friday evening and Saturday.  I get the visual disturbances - which is basically lose about a third of my vision. Sometimes it's fleeting, sometimes it lasts for hours. Que horizontal, sofa association for the next 12 hours.  I missed the parkrun but did manage to run on Sunday.  Missed Monday LRRs as was out watching a musical in Woking! Was going to run on Tuesday after work but was exhausted and it was boiling.

All or Nothing Thinking
So as us hypnotherapists discuss with our clients, sometimes people will view a diet lost after having a slip up, or perhaps a smoker having a cigarette when out drinking with friends as they've blown it.  This is not so.

We are human, we slip up, that's life, shit happens, get over yourself and carry on.  So I did.

From one Extreme to Another
So the UK has been plagued with weeks and weeks of rain and then we are blessed with scorchio sunshine.  How to cope with the sudden change?  Where did I put those flip flops and that maxi dress? The bikini wearing is a definite no no this year but maybe next . . . .

With the sunshine beating down and the heat rising, running after work hasn't seemed quite so alluring? So being more of a morning person, as any regular reader will know I set my alarm for 6am ready to get that elusive run in.  I'd gone to bed at 10pm after listening to more Hypnosis for Running and when the alarm went off at 6am I was ready.

I'd mapped a 5.2km route.

Que: music from Chariots of Fire.

And I ran.

And I didn't stop. Not once. This if a first for me, a personal best.

And I was amazed, overjoyed, proud, super smiley and really, really, bloody chuffed!

Que: Rocky Music http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvEnIkz82A0  I implore you not to smile if you listen to this.

If you go down to the woods today . . . .

I do  hope that you read the title with the tune going through your mind . . . you'll be sure of a big surprise. I could go on, it's quite a nice bouncy tune but not one for my running list.

Running before 7am, You Must be Mad
Running in the morning, early, 'can she do it', 'yes she can'!  Last Saturday saw the alarm at the earlier time of 6.10am.  And last Saturday, if you were down on the South Coast, you know it was hideous.  Lashing wind and rain with no let up and it was exactly like that at 6.20am.  No need to worry about sweat marks today, I was one giant sweat mark, like I'd been sat in a bath with all my clothes on.  I did learn one thing about running in the rain though, bits of you rub against your clothes that didn't rub before.  Now I get what the Vaseline is for.

My Network of Support and I'm not talking about Bridget Jones' Pants
This network has been invaluable to help me keep going, getting me out of bed in the morning so I'd just like to take a moment to say a big thank you to all those who are aware of my running quest and my concern about the early morning runs. There are a regular few, who, when I'm planning an early morning run, which I post on Facebook (and then whine about it) will, if they are up, encourage me with comments of 'Are you up yet', or 'Get your arse out of bed' etc by commenting on my comment on FB which means my phone jingle jangles and there's no getting away from the comment I've made and the commitment to run.  The fact that I've made a public commitment, followed by encouragement from friends - also up that early(?) makes a huge difference.  I don't want to let anyone down and least of all myself.

Another before 7am Run - Crazy Arse Bird
Thing is, I really want to complete the Great South Run.  And I don't want to cross the finish line horizontal, crawling commando style, ripping my fingernails out as I drag myself over the tarmac.  Upright would be preferable.  Completed without walking would also be preferable.  And not last would be most preferable of all.  Increasing my fitness and running prowess is going to require, therefore, some dedication, with at least three runs a week . . . to start.

Life is a little hectic at the moment so the early morning runs are a necessity.  Last weekend I was in Bournemouth for the last of my Hypno training, and I've had my clients/case studies in the evenings this last week, hence the early morning runs.  Which, running on Thursday morning was amazing.  The sky was completely blue, with a big yellow thing in it.  I must do some research to find out what it was.

If you go down to the woods today you'll be sure of a big surprise . . .
To see me hoofing myself round a 5k route on Southampton common.  This was 'parkrun' a nationwide event, every Saturday all over the country.  You sign-up to get your bar code which is used to measure your time each week. Run 5K, cross the finish line, get your bar code at the end and you'll be emailed your results.  I'm still waiting for mine. But I can tell you now I'm not in the top ten!


I was thinking more tortoise and the hare when I set off, quickly reaching the lofty heights of last.  So the tortoise bit was clearly one of my strengths, lets just see if I had any others.  Even though this isn't a race 'so to speak' you get a certain feeling of competitiveness.  Now, growing up an only child, I have no such competitive urges, only really to beat myself.  Today's competitive urge was to NOT walk the route.  I nearly did it, I walked twice for a short period.  This is the best I've ever done so far as my running career goes and it feels great and I have to pat myself on the back.  Years ago I started running without any support and remember telling my (unconventional) Dad that I'd been running, properly chuffed with myself, he asked 'What did you steal?'. Still makes me smile today but perhaps, well done, you keep on going, might have been better.  Not half so much comedic value though.

So today I've run three miles and I survived. In true tortoise and hare style though I also, didn't finish last (insert smug smiley face). I just need to do that three times over and a little bit and the Great South Run is a piece of cake! I say to the Great South Run, you will not take me prisoner, or see me crawling commando style across the finish line.  I will finish in true Homsapien style.


So the running plan for the GSR is in production, nearly finished. And the Adam Eason hypnotherapy for Running http://www.hypnosisfordownload.com/hypnosis-for-running/ starts in earnest.


Over and out, until the next run, thankfully an evening one.

Catching Mice in My Sleep

Sleep Deprivation and Running
In my last post I'd had an amazing run with the LRR I'd felt amazing, my pace was good, I was able to put one foot in front of another without having to take many breaks, and if I did take a break it was short, I recovered well and stomped on.  Our leader thought we'd done about four miles, I think it was closer to three and a half.  I guess it doesn't really matter, I felt amazing, on top of the world, better than Julie Andrews on top of a mountain. The rain didn't matter . . .  The buzz continued well into the evening, my latest blog was written, more homework and client preparation work done and eventually I conceded defeat to leave the laptop alone and get some well earned rest. And so to bed I went. Read a bit of Paul Britton, _ Picking Up the Pieces and realised that some of the techniques he used I was also using and knew how to do (I surprised myself, this hypnosis stuff is really sticking to my brain). And then allowed myself the luxury of drifting off for a well earned recovery sleep.

Mind said YES the body said NO.  After feeling cold for about an hour, conceded to drag my sorry arse downstairs and get myself a hot water bottle.  It's 12.30 at this point.  Read a little more, eventually go to sleep. Wake about 3.30 am in a feverish sweat and eventually fall asleep about 4.30 and then Yey, the alarm is ringing in my ears at 6.45. Hurrah, now I have a days work and as yet it's not a day of hypnosis clients, the day job is still facilitating the finances, not long now though.

I'm not great when I'm tired.  Positively grumpy in fact.  But as a student of hypnosis I gave myself some positive chat about it was just a physical feeling and all would be well with the world.  That evening I was meeting with old work colleagues for a curry (not a boozy night) then heading off home to see my partner and an early night.  Or so I thought! My other half is a night owl and needs noise to get to sleep. I am not, and don't.  Mixing this together is about as pleasant as drinking a Brain Hemorrhage (if you've never done it read  all about it here http://liquorists.blogspot.co.uk/2009/10/brain-hemorrhage.html). The nights sleep further punctuated by a pounding headache at about 4am which I had to get up for and take pain killers, swiftly followed by my alarm clock. None of this makes for a excellent nights sleep. Feign surprise.


The Invisible Client
I managed to make it through the day and left a little early to make sure the house was clean and fresh for my client, I'd done all the prep, just needed to don my housecoat, put the hoover round and fluff the flowers.

As I waited for 8pm to roll round, it dawned on me that it wasn't the 11th July it was in fact the 4th July.  It was the 11th July my client was due. Light the fireworks, crack open the Champagne and allow the wallow to begin, the slow melt into the sofa of sleep with mind melting television to stare at.  My new found joy at the prospect of a relaxing evening and an early night with a deep sleep was extraordinarily exciting.

But short lived.

Skinned Cat Handbag Anyone?
The long climb up the stairs to the bedroom were hard, but I made it, I've been running don't you know.  Soon the comfort of my fabulous bed was wrapped around me, swiftly followed by the enveloping dark, velvety spendidnous of sleep.  Ahhhh . . . .

2am - there's something in the house.  Bollocks.  That's my cat.  And that's my cat with the distinctive Meow of 'Wow, look what I've brought you, aren't you just so proud of me'. My mind initially blank, as I jumped out of bed, looked for something to catch a mouse in, wrestled the cat out of the bedroom, caught mouse in said receptacle, released mouse to a life of freedom (if he can run fast enough. I'm thinking Tron, the original, that mouse is gonna have to be fast to survive).  Retired to bed, cursed the cat, and waited for sleep to arrive.  Which it did. Eventually AT ABOUT 3AM.  I'm not sure if you can tell but my patience was wearing a little thin.  But, ahhhh, allow yourself to relax.

Until 4AM!! Another comedic mouse chase ensued.  Mouse climbed in my new shoe.  I grabbed the shoe to save the mouse, carried it out into the hallway.  The mouse jumped out of the peep toe, landed in the hallway with a thud.  I turned to turn on the light, turned back.  No mouse.  Cat still looking for mouse in the other shoe (and they say cats are intelligent).

Return to bed.  Ready to cry.  And enjoy the snippets of sleep until the alarm goes off. I awoke feeling a little like this . . .

and went to work.

The day didn't start great but did improve and I ended up looking and feeling a little more human.  I embraced the M3 dressed in my running gear to meet my chum to run around the common and hoped that I wouldn't scare small children.

The Zombie Run
It wasn't great.  I was tired, I was grumpy, I was slow and I stopped more than I did on Monday.  But I was running.  In spite of my lack of sleep I was still running. I was surprised. I've never yet had this level of commitment to something that I didn't really have to do.  And here was this zombie, sweating and pink, still putting one foot in front of another around the common and through the cemetery and I did it. I completed the small route and I didn't cave in to the sofa desires straight from work.

The sofa became my friend as did a glass of wine, followed by a bath, some crap TV and my bed.  And I slept . . . . all the way through until today, no mice, no noise.  Just unadulterated sleep.  And relax.

The Saturday Run
Today has been productive.  Some homework completed.  Toenails painted for the party tomorrow night. Outfit sorted, everything has been pretty good apart from my computer skills which seemed to have failed me consistently this morning.  Those of you on the Hub of Hypnosis will understand and I'm sure my humiliation will continue well into the weekend.  I may tell that story another time.

To get my third run in this week it requires that I'm up and out of the door by 6.20am. Yes, 6.20am.  But you know what, I'm quite excited.  I've done it before and the high I got from an early morning run was immense.  Every time I achieve a run, on my own, early in the morning my belief increases that little bit more.  I can picture me running past the finish line in October bursting with pride, fit and healthy and believing that I can achieve anything.  This is the vision I'll be using every time I'm tired or the sofa is calling my name.

Tron, eat your heart out.

From 0 to 3 in 7 days

From a week of self flagellation to a week of abusing my leg muscles
Oooh it's been a while since I posted and so much has happened since the last self abusive blog post I put up.  Nothing too exciting, I haven't won the lottery and Jonny Depp hasn't asked me out on a date yet (give it time, the break up is still new) but I have upped my running.

So, I joined the Lordshill Road Runners (LRR) and ran with Father Christmas, ran in the rain, all shouty and proud and I also ran on the Saturday.  I ran three times in a week! I'd gone from 0 to 3 in a week, not as impressive as a Ferrari but more impressive than a Daewoo Matiz.  Imagine if you will a sort of Jackie Chan pose, punching the space in front of you, shouting 'Get In'.  Or alternatively giving yourself a pat on the back (I can do that as I have hypermobile joints, not so sure it's so good for the long term health of them to keep extending them?).  My belief and excitement grows with every run that I do and it continues to improve.  I'm running further before stopping and stopping less and for shorter periods of time.  I'm extraordinarily glad that I never listened to my mother who believes that God wouldn't have invented cars if we were meant to use our legs! It's great to be rebellious sometimes.

The increased running activity rolled into the Monday with week two with the LRR.  Mmm, something had possessed my legs, or my self belief or my lung capacity.  I was rubbish and I mean R U B B I S H.  I kept stopping, more than I'd done in weeks. My legs felt heavier, like someone had snuck weights into the soles of my trainers, and lead lined my socks.  I sweated and I heaved myself round but I just wasn't that great and I felt bad about it.  Surely my fitness should be increasing, not decreasing.  I do hope that I'm not one of those unfortunate few whose genes dictate that they just won't get fit (there was a whole programme about this, I'm pretty sure it was Panorama as well)? If I am I'll just go get myself a Daewoo Matiz and be done with it. Hurrumph.

A friend who comes with me had decided to go into the next group up as she's fitter and lighter than me.  And she did five miles with her group and while I was really, really chuffed I felt a tinge of jealousy.Why couldn't I run that far yet?  I've been going out for about two months now, why aren't I shooting round the common in no time and a size 10 already?  In my head I was stamping my foot, and crossing my arms whining that it wasn't fair, Nelly the Elephant looming loud in my ears with a sub woofer and the volume turned up high.  And I decided to stop that, I had a word with myself, turned the music down, changed the tune and moved on.

Morning runs
Not the kind after a particularly vehement curry, but the trainers and alarm clock type of run.  After my success with three runs in a week I wanted to carry it on.  And having busy evenings with preparation for a hypno client, and seeing the client I had to fit one in somehow.  The only conclusion was that it was going to have to be an early morning run. Now for me to get to work in a timely manner requires leaving the house about 8 ish, so to fit in a run requires getting up about 6 ish. Ouch.  The words of my mother were ringing in my ears.  I thought it likely that the bed would be victorious over trainers.  Running gear was laid out like a brides wedding dress before the big day.  Alarm was set.  Whining about it on Facebook had been completed. Sleeping commenced.  Alarm clock started.  Snooze button was hit.  The internal dialogue started. I was saved by a good friend who happened to also be up at that ungodly hour and posted on Facebook 'Are you running yet?'  That was all it took, the PJ's slipped to the floor, the Bongadong scaffolding was applied, wick away shorts, double skin socks, hair scraped back to create a mini facelift, trainers at the door and I was off.

It was bloody marvelous. I felt high as a kite, I'm sure you could get an equivalent feeling by having a line of cocaine with your Cornflakes and coffee (if that was your thing) but I got mine because I ran. And because I was pushing towards a future that I believe in and want.  Because I'm eventually getting it, this thing called self belief, this treating yourself nicely with a bit of respect.  I'm really, really getting it and it beats the evil sofa, the glasses of wine, the extra hour in bed, the big bags of sweets . . .

The Jedi Runners
And now the training starts in earnest with Adam Eason's Hypnosis for Running and the Jedi Runners for support.  The hypnosis will start and perhaps more early morning runs to get me to that 10 mile fitness goal.

And tonight . . .
With the LRR, we ran about four miles.  More than I've ever done, with less stops and more running. Que Jackie Chan stance while shouting 'Get In'.

Too Run or Not to Run, That Is The Question

A Week Without Running
Wow, a whole week, believe me I have felt the guilt, and thought that I 'should' go for a run.  That I 'must' go for a run, but I have a plethora of valid excuses in my proverbial handbag.

Man Flu was my first excuse at the beginning of the week.  Yes, yes I know I'm not a bloke, but I'm also very unused to feeling even remotely poorly.  It seems that smoking does, in fact, have some health benefits.  I can hear you scoffing 'balderdash' and 'piffle' but let me tell you it's true (please don't be concerned that I've started again, I haven't, not even a puff, even being in another's smoke is not nice).  Apparently the vast quantities of toxins and nasty stuff that live in cigarettes is quite good at killing off bugs, colds bugs, sore throat bugs and all things bug like that create Man Flu.  So a couple of Sunday's ago my throat got sore, and continued on it's course to make me feel rather rubbish.  I figured I'd get over it, a good nights kip, oh no, on it's course it continued, goddammit, all the way into Monday which saw Monday closing at a very un-respectable 9pm, in PJ's feeling incredibly sorry for myself.  No running took place on Monday, nor on Tuesday. Wednesday saw the arrival of new carpet in my, now, therapy room with some rapid furniture moving and gluing taking place until late. Thursday was booked with a hypnotherapy client and Friday was of course footy night.  Nice one England (high five). Saturday opened with a slightly jaded run down feeling, followed by the movies, and then a trip to Portsmouth to meet my long lost Welsh little brother for a bite to eat, arriving home on Sat at about 10pm.  Knackered.

And then there were trainers
Determined not to go the weekend without running I set my alarm for Sunday morning at 8.30.  Yeah . . . a little bit sad, on a Sunday? My alarm went off, I got up, and my trainers magically appeared on my feet, my iPod plugged in, hardcore dance tunes ready to promote the pounding of my feet, and I was out of the door.

Bloody hell it felt good to be out.  The sun was shining, I had some good tunes going on and my feet were moving in front of one another faster than a walk (but not much faster). I realised that I hadn't beaten myself up with my internal dialogue, or given up because I actually couldn't manage a run for a week, that life is busy and it's OK when you can't always do what you want to do, shit happens, get over it.  And so I decided to join a running club.

The Running Club
The tune I have running through my head as I write is the Chariots of Fire theme tune, you can hear it here in case you've been living on another planet and have no idea what it sounds like http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9myoXFk-O4U but the other tune running through my head (no pun intended) is Nelly the Elephant http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_a-m3pH9Dr8.  The running club meet at 6.30 on the grass triangle, on the common, opposite the Belmoor Pub in Southampton. I was nervous.  I was nervous that I was going to be the only person looking like a Ribena Berry person at the end of it, that I'd be trailing behind, lost in the common as it got darker, hearing strange noises, just like a horror movie, that other runners would be tutting as they waited for me. It wasn't like that. Not like that at all.

Running with Father Christmas
There were a lot of newbie runners, about 10 -12 of us I think.  And we were all under the careful watch of two veteran runners.  One of them, I'm sure was old enough to be my Grandad (God rest his soul), a shock of white hair (who looked a little like Father Christmas), who runs 10 - 15 miles a couple of times a week for fun and a bloody lovely fellow. The other chap is apparently an ex footballer, Spanish and tanned.  Unfortunately also old enough to be my Dad (God rest his soul too).  And they really looked after us, chatted away, kept us going and generally promoted a warm glow in the heart, not just from the exertion of running.  And I wasn't the fastest in the beginners group and I wasn't the slowest either!  Hurrah.  I was the second slowest though (the Nelly tune is just starting up) but being the second slowest means that I can only get faster (Chariots of Fire tune kicking in).  We did sprints after our lap, which I quite enjoyed and then back to the triangle of grass to meet (I can't stop inappropriate images going through my head when I mention 'triangle of grass') with the rest of the runners. They gave announcements and talked about something called Park Run http://www.parkrun.org.uk which is a free race which runs every Sat across the country, Southampton's first one on 7th July (I'll be away studying on my last Hypnotherapy training weekend, a bit sad it's the last) you sign up on line, get a bar code, get scanned when you start and by the time you get home all your details have been downloaded so you can track your improving speed.  All sounds pretty good to me.

Running in the Rain
I have a fellow runner who is a lot fitter than I am who also joined the running club with me and we went for a run last night. It was meant to be a test Park Run, but we got the times wrong, we were half an hour early, so rather than hang about in the wind and rain we decided to go for it.  Running in the rain is strangely quite nice.  I feel like I'm railing against the world, that I'm running no matter what you throw at me (imagine fist in the air and scary shouty face) and that's a very empowering feeling, one that I intend to keep hold of.  Running to me is more than getting physically fit and strong, somehow it's getting me mentally fit and strong and that makes me smile on the inside.  Fingers crossed the Bongadongs will reduce in size, no change yet but small changes in size on other parts of my body.  I still haven't weighed or measured myself and I don't think I'll bother, heck I'll know if my jeans are too big to wear anymore, I'll be shouting about it to anyone who will listen.  I still have a tight chest from the coldy (Man Flu) flemmy thing that I haven't quite managed to shift but it won't stop me going out this weekend for my running fix.

Red, white and blue

Thank Goodness the Jubilee is over. Now don't get me wrong, the bits I saw on TV gave me a nostalgic feeling and a warm glow of love for GB.  And the Queen looked pretty smart too, yadda, yadda, yadda, but enough already!  Bank Holiday weekend saw me struggling to get a run in with commitments to friends and family rife (I love you all really) all tempting 'trainer' and 'sports bra' avoidance. The first Sat of the Bank Holiday opened with a mild hangover following a rather fun evening out quaffing vast quantities of steak and 'Red Velvet Cake (if you are offered Red Velvet Cake avoid like the plague, especially if you are on a diet, as you will surely have to go back for 2nd's if not 3rd's) and imbibing a variety of alcoholic beverages.  Hungover and full? Mmm, what were my chances of joining forces with my trainers?  Eventually though, the running seed had been sown and the desire to get out was fuelled by my new list of running songs on a little, pretending to be,  iPod Shuffle.  Running tunes picked, trainers, sports bra, T-Shirt and shorts all ready to rock and roll.

Temptations of the devil
Before I've even left my front garden, the cat is there, looking cute, demanding attention, and he is pretty cute apart from the dead/live animals that he brings home, oh and he's definitely not so cute when he loudly chews a large sparrow in the house (no amount of chasing and grabbing was going prise that little beauty from his jaws). So the required amount of stretching hadn't been performed at this stage, but heck, off I trot anyway.  Earplugs in, ready for the surge of energy brought on by the boom, boom, boom of some of my favourite 'shake your toosh on the dancefloor' tunes.  Alas, no.  Again temptations were to turn back and recline on my sofa. My wonderful piece of music kit only plays MP3's and I've since learned that a lot of music is an AAI file?  My music wizardry had me bouncing round Shirley to just three songs, three songs which I may never want to listen to ever again, Let Your Love Flow - The Belemy Brothers, Insomnia - Faithless and Back to Black - Amy Winehouse.  Three songs, grrrrr.  But, still determined I move my slow plod on, following the route that I know, still thwarting the devil even with all his tricks to push me back to the sofa.  A little further on my route, by now knowing all the words by heart to the aforementioned songs and the road is closed.  Lots of blue and red, no it wasn't a terrible traffic accident, it was a bloody Jubilee street party.  Bouncy castles, flags, children laughing having fun, frivolity being had by all - didn't they know they were blocking my run route!  Still moving on, still determined not to be thwarted, a new route is found, I was a little bit lost I have to admit but eventually found myself back to somewhere I recognised and struggled the rest of the way home desperate to stamp on my little pretend iPod Shuffle thing.

Home at last
Thank the Lord.  I made it.  My run wasn't a great run, there may have been more walking than running, I've no idea how far I went but I am still proud on what I did.  I'm still proud that against all odds and knowing my lazy nature I still went out.  I still have a vision for a fit and healthy future and the future is bright.

Looking like Les Dawson in a dress . . .

Running on Tuesday after work was tough, all the way through the day, all the way back down the M3 to Hill Lane, where I parked up, got out of the mobile oven, stretched and then started the pound round the common.  The temptation of the internal dialogue was strong that day, the lure of the sofa, a nice cup of tea, a soak in the bath all sounded really rather lovely. The weather still showing off in all it's May glory, still hot but not quite as scorchio as it has been, so the run on Tuesday evening should have been something to look forward to, something to be excited about but it just kind of didn't?

I'd been thinking about it all day at work, drifting in and out of the internal, shall I, shan't I conversation. I did find a way to shut up the voice full of wonderful promises of sofas, tea, and movies and replace it with a more factual more enticing voice.

Part of the reason for this blog is purely selfish, it's extraordinarily cathartic to write what you want without a care in the world, there are no FSA guidelines to follow, no one to insult, and if you did, well then, they can just stop reading?  No other opinions to garner prior to publishing, it's just plain unadulterated me.

So, Tuesday I was thinking about immediate gratification and not thinking about the long term benefits and rewards, a combination of moving away from pain and moving towards pleasure.  Moving away from pain was the fear that I could still be sat on my arse wishing I was fit and a couple of dress sizes smaller (I am quite, quite bored of hearing that voice) and moving towards pleasure which was, getting addicted to running, and not being filled with fear and loathing whenever I needed to shop for clothes.  Can't bear it now, all those people, all those ridiculous fashion items.  Surely most of the shoes in New Look are for men who want to dress in drag?  Some clothes I look at and I'm not even sure how you'd wear them, and as for getting the bongadongs in dresses forget it, imagine, if you will Les Dawson.  So enough of the self flagelation, move onto the moving towards pleasure, I was part way there and digressed.  So most importantly for me, the sheer feeling of pride at the achievement I'm working towards.  I can feel it now as I write, it's hard to describe, it's like a giant smile spreading from my heart out through every part of me, it feels like I'm light as a feather, like I could fly and achieve anything.  That's the feeling I'm going to anchor, the feeling I'm going to go back to time and time again for those days when the sofa is calling my name because when you feel as though you could turn inside out from the smile radiating from your heart, that's a bloody amazing feeling.