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One of the things that I feel I need the most to be healthier in my current lifestyle is exercise - I have, or rather, had, next to none.
Actually, I'll be blunt - I had none. Point blank. I'd walk to the car, drive 90 mins to work, and then from there, drive to the supermarket, and then from there drive home. So the most exercise I had of a day was either wandering around the office or around the shops.
Not good for anyone. Also not surprising that I've put on somewhere in the region of a stone and a half.
And I thought that was what I would be forced to do and put up with until I found another job - because despite the lack of exercise, I was knackered. Truely, truely exhausted. I would come home of an evening and have just about enough energy to cook and eat dinner and then crawl into bed, where I'd sleep like a dead thing until my alarm went off the next morning and I'd throw myself out of bed and start the entire bloody thing all over again.
Suffice it to say, I ended up pretty much reduced to trying not to think too far ahead. Trying not to consider the future, because the thought of repeating this, ad neauseum, for the rest of my life would be enough to sap the morale of Pinkie Pie[1]. I figured the only way to improve the situation was to get a new job - until then, I resigned myself to the fact that late nights...no longer happened. Writing was sporadic and back seated. Whereas Doug and I used to go on a date each week to the cinema, we'v been maybe a handful of times in the 6 months since we've moved - there is no cinema in Cirencester[2] and my lack of energy meant we couldn't make the drive to Longwell Green on a weekday evening, and it's too expensive to go any other time.
Life, when lived in this frustrating sort of half measure, becomes extremely frustating. And my work, despite the fact that nothing about it has changed since I moved, became a thorn in my side, because how can you not resent something that's having such a massive negative effect on the rest of your existence?
And then I found out my blood pressure was getting remarkably high and my weight was going ot of control and I decided something had to change. So I joined a gym.
What I was thinking, I honestly have no idea. Where I was expecting to get the energy from is a mystery. I think I'd lapsed into that mindset which can also occasionally occur in my maternal family - particularly my mother - when it comes to crunch time: I'll justmake it work. I'll just work harder. And by sheer force of will, we kind of either get the desired outcome or we die in the trying.
My uncle, I'm told, is a prime example of someone with this mindset, aptly demonstrated when he went to uni - about 6 months in, my grandparents were summonned to his sick bed in a local hospital because he'd worked himself into a state of nervous exhaustion because he'd taken on too many activities and was refusing to let his grades slide; as a result, the total amount of sleep he was averaging over a five day period was 8 hours, and this had been going on for weeks. When we have the bit between our teeth, we're generally not brilliant at knowing when to let go.
So, I joined last Tuesday, and went both that day, and again on Thursday and...
...I felt better. Which was strange, because that's the last thing I expected. I had cleared my schedule of things that needed to be done because I'd expected there to be a period of adjustment - I was prepared for the laundry to go undone for a while as my body adjusted to the new demands I was placing on it. I probably wouldn't have time to ring my family for a chat or contact friends or go home to see the puppy again - I stocked up on painkillers in expectation that my joints, which cause me a not-inconsiderable amount of pain under normal circumstances, would be killing me.
But...none of the above was true. I'd finish my meal in the evening, do my part of the housework and whereas normally I'd be staggering upstairs and falling into bed, I was still...sat up. Wide awake. Wondering what I could do with myself.
I slept well, but not with the dead-to-the-world air that I had previously. I woke of my own accord a good half an hour before my alarm went off and couldn't get back to sleep. The joint pain in my arms and knees lessened. My appetite reduced.
Say it with me now: W.T.F.
There is no equation I can think of that accounts for taking someone with no energy, making them do something that takes energy, and have them come out the other side with more energy than they started up with.
So, I did a test - well, I got ill and turned it into a test. On friday, I got a cold. One of the really nasty, really rapid ones; head stuffed with cotton wool, croaky voice, no appetite, feel awful ones. So resultantly, did I go to the gym on Sat like I was supposed to? No, no I did not - instead I stayed in bed and got through one and a half rolls of kitchen towel all on my own.
I managed to, mostly, throw the damn thing off by the time Monday rolled around, so when it got to Tuesday morning, I decided I'd skip a second session. This was for two reasons:
a) to avoid over exertion and make sure the damn cold didn't come back.
b) to see if all the positives I was attributing to the gym were actually gym based. I mean, what if actually it was the increased amount of sunlight? The reduced stress from the fact my car made it through the MOT and we have finally found a wedding venue that's within our budget? Some subtle change in my diet I haven't noticed?
If it was the gym, then I'd start reverting. If it wasn't, then regardless of whether I went back or not, I'd continue feeling great.
Well, long story short[3] - it's the gym. My appetite ramped back up. I started sleeping like a dead thing again...right up until my alarm. I hit 11pm at night and turned into the walking dead if I didn't get to sleep.
I went back again this morning. I'm now tired...but feel a little bit better about myself. I'll just have to, from now on, make the time to go I guess.
But yeah. My body...is weird.
Footnotes:
[1] The character from the rebooted My Little Pony show. If you haven't watched it...you ought to. It's kind of good and goofy and funny in places and yeah, I'm hardly going to run out and buy the series if it was taken off Youtube but if I had a child and they wanted me to sit and watch it with them, I wouldn't spend each 30 min episode wanting to claw my eyes out.
[2] There is also no train station. Or department store. There are, however, no fewer than three speciality tea shops, and about five butchers; it's an odd little place.
[3] Well, shorter. This has gotten much longer than I thought it was going to.
Actually, I'll be blunt - I had none. Point blank. I'd walk to the car, drive 90 mins to work, and then from there, drive to the supermarket, and then from there drive home. So the most exercise I had of a day was either wandering around the office or around the shops.
Not good for anyone. Also not surprising that I've put on somewhere in the region of a stone and a half.
And I thought that was what I would be forced to do and put up with until I found another job - because despite the lack of exercise, I was knackered. Truely, truely exhausted. I would come home of an evening and have just about enough energy to cook and eat dinner and then crawl into bed, where I'd sleep like a dead thing until my alarm went off the next morning and I'd throw myself out of bed and start the entire bloody thing all over again.
Suffice it to say, I ended up pretty much reduced to trying not to think too far ahead. Trying not to consider the future, because the thought of repeating this, ad neauseum, for the rest of my life would be enough to sap the morale of Pinkie Pie[1]. I figured the only way to improve the situation was to get a new job - until then, I resigned myself to the fact that late nights...no longer happened. Writing was sporadic and back seated. Whereas Doug and I used to go on a date each week to the cinema, we'v been maybe a handful of times in the 6 months since we've moved - there is no cinema in Cirencester[2] and my lack of energy meant we couldn't make the drive to Longwell Green on a weekday evening, and it's too expensive to go any other time.
Life, when lived in this frustrating sort of half measure, becomes extremely frustating. And my work, despite the fact that nothing about it has changed since I moved, became a thorn in my side, because how can you not resent something that's having such a massive negative effect on the rest of your existence?
And then I found out my blood pressure was getting remarkably high and my weight was going ot of control and I decided something had to change. So I joined a gym.
What I was thinking, I honestly have no idea. Where I was expecting to get the energy from is a mystery. I think I'd lapsed into that mindset which can also occasionally occur in my maternal family - particularly my mother - when it comes to crunch time: I'll justmake it work. I'll just work harder. And by sheer force of will, we kind of either get the desired outcome or we die in the trying.
My uncle, I'm told, is a prime example of someone with this mindset, aptly demonstrated when he went to uni - about 6 months in, my grandparents were summonned to his sick bed in a local hospital because he'd worked himself into a state of nervous exhaustion because he'd taken on too many activities and was refusing to let his grades slide; as a result, the total amount of sleep he was averaging over a five day period was 8 hours, and this had been going on for weeks. When we have the bit between our teeth, we're generally not brilliant at knowing when to let go.
So, I joined last Tuesday, and went both that day, and again on Thursday and...
...I felt better. Which was strange, because that's the last thing I expected. I had cleared my schedule of things that needed to be done because I'd expected there to be a period of adjustment - I was prepared for the laundry to go undone for a while as my body adjusted to the new demands I was placing on it. I probably wouldn't have time to ring my family for a chat or contact friends or go home to see the puppy again - I stocked up on painkillers in expectation that my joints, which cause me a not-inconsiderable amount of pain under normal circumstances, would be killing me.
But...none of the above was true. I'd finish my meal in the evening, do my part of the housework and whereas normally I'd be staggering upstairs and falling into bed, I was still...sat up. Wide awake. Wondering what I could do with myself.
I slept well, but not with the dead-to-the-world air that I had previously. I woke of my own accord a good half an hour before my alarm went off and couldn't get back to sleep. The joint pain in my arms and knees lessened. My appetite reduced.
Say it with me now: W.T.F.
There is no equation I can think of that accounts for taking someone with no energy, making them do something that takes energy, and have them come out the other side with more energy than they started up with.
So, I did a test - well, I got ill and turned it into a test. On friday, I got a cold. One of the really nasty, really rapid ones; head stuffed with cotton wool, croaky voice, no appetite, feel awful ones. So resultantly, did I go to the gym on Sat like I was supposed to? No, no I did not - instead I stayed in bed and got through one and a half rolls of kitchen towel all on my own.
I managed to, mostly, throw the damn thing off by the time Monday rolled around, so when it got to Tuesday morning, I decided I'd skip a second session. This was for two reasons:
a) to avoid over exertion and make sure the damn cold didn't come back.
b) to see if all the positives I was attributing to the gym were actually gym based. I mean, what if actually it was the increased amount of sunlight? The reduced stress from the fact my car made it through the MOT and we have finally found a wedding venue that's within our budget? Some subtle change in my diet I haven't noticed?
If it was the gym, then I'd start reverting. If it wasn't, then regardless of whether I went back or not, I'd continue feeling great.
Well, long story short[3] - it's the gym. My appetite ramped back up. I started sleeping like a dead thing again...right up until my alarm. I hit 11pm at night and turned into the walking dead if I didn't get to sleep.
I went back again this morning. I'm now tired...but feel a little bit better about myself. I'll just have to, from now on, make the time to go I guess.
But yeah. My body...is weird.
Footnotes:
[1] The character from the rebooted My Little Pony show. If you haven't watched it...you ought to. It's kind of good and goofy and funny in places and yeah, I'm hardly going to run out and buy the series if it was taken off Youtube but if I had a child and they wanted me to sit and watch it with them, I wouldn't spend each 30 min episode wanting to claw my eyes out.
[2] There is also no train station. Or department store. There are, however, no fewer than three speciality tea shops, and about five butchers; it's an odd little place.
[3] Well, shorter. This has gotten much longer than I thought it was going to.
