“Fast food is popular because it is convenient, it’s cheap and it tastes good. But the real cost of eating fast food never appears on the menu.” Eric Schlosser
13th April – Days to go on 100 days dry: 0. Days until the Dartmoor Way: 33
I have read, watched and consumed so much information on what to eat, how to train, the things to watch out for. But the biggest lesson of all hit me like a ton of bricks yesterday.
Running a 7k drill with intervals at race pace is considerably more difficult after a sausage sandwich.
It’s an obvious one, but yesterday was the first time I have considered the immediate impact of what I eat, rather than the longer term weight loss goal that I have been focusing on.
It was a treat, no doubt, but I think it might be the last one for a while. Over the last few months, as I have been paying more attention to the food that I eat, I have noticed a few things that I’ve frankly taken for granted.
During what I am euphemistically referring to as my ‘heavier days’, I had a blister pack of antacid pills on my bedside table. I suffered from acid reflux that hit me as regularly as clockwork every time I went to bed. I would stand up from the dining table after a large meal at the end of the day, having eaten too much, stay pretty much sedentary until it was time to turn in and then pop the calcium tablet once the pain hit.
Looking back now, I feel slightly disgusted with myself. What started as a program to shed some unwanted pounds and improve my health has evolved into revised way of looking at how I walk through my days. The sausage sandwich was a bit of a tipping point. I know that I am one of the lucky ones, (notwithstanding the harder you work, the luckier you get train of thought), I live in a safe country, I have a good job, I am comfortable. This has resulted in me glossing over the relative wealth that I enjoy and self managing the negative impacts.
My sedentary lifestyle, rich foods, and general overindulgence got to the point where it became normal for me to pick up another packet of antacids on my way to bed without a second thought.
Since starting to prepare for the Dartmoor walk I haven’t had to deal with acid reflux once. When I finish my evening meal, I don’t feel over-stuffed, and my levels of activity have sky rocketed. I didn’t recognise this until yesterday.
So yesterday, getting to the end of the working day, I spied two cold sausages in the fridge, and feeling a bit peckish and justifying that I have done quite well on this whole weight loss malarkey, I hastily threw together the aforementioned banger-butty and devoured it through the last few meetings that I had. About 2 hours later I strode out for a long running drill. I felt confident putting my running gear on, but I felt heavy in my belly. A feeling that I lived with pretty consistently before, but was strange and out of place now. I ignored it.
The first 10 minute warm up went OK, I didn’t push the pace. The first interval was bloody hard work though and I was grateful for the 200 meter cool down. My heart rate was high and I was out of breath. The race pace wasn’t too much of a stretch, so I was confused at first at why my performance level had dropped so much.
At the end of the second kilometer long interval I was struggling to maintain the pace, and when it came time to recover I started to doubt that I would be able to do all 5.
And then, without thinking, I hit the lap timer on my watch. I don’t know why, it was instinctive, it was unnecessary and more importantly, it completely messed the program up. I stared at the watch face incredulously and came to a shuddering stop. I had a real brain fog. I didn’t know how to fix it, the drill was ruined. Did I self sabotage because I was struggling? Did my brain just stop working? I got really cross with myself. I tried to restart it to no avail. I considered repeating the whole program from scratch, but couldn’t work out how to activate it. The more I pushed for solutions, the fewer presented themselves to me. My frustration soared as I stood on the pavement in the early evening gloom.
No congratulatory self fives, and definitely no chocolate milk for me.
I stomped away in a foul mood. Found my breathing and jogged lightly for the few kilometers home. As I ran, the brain fog cleared a little and I realised that things weren’t quite as bleak as I was making out. By the time I got back I had worked out the plan. I would repeat the drill the following day, (taking care of what I ate through the day,) and reschedule the two remaining runs for later in the week. Simple and back on track.
So, the repeated drill is tonight after work, one tomorrow and then the last of the week on Saturday morning. BEFORE I meet up with friends and family for a pub lunch.
And finally… today is my 100th dry day. So I got that going for me. Dark, malty beer awaits.
“One part at a time, one day at a time, we can accomplish any goal we set for ourselves.” Karen Casey
