I’m starting to think that I approach blogging in the same way as I approach losing weight. It’s great when I have something to focus on but I am utterly rubbish at maintaining it.
A lot has happened since my first (and only) group run in July. The Hell Runner training slipped for lots of different reasons and everyone was left to their own devices. The sensible among us actually DID some training and ended up falling in love with running. While I did, well, not very much at all. And got fatter. Again.
Now, I have been to a lot of counselling / CBT sessions in my lifetime, so I am refusing to see this is as a failure. Let me explain why. In August, I resigned from my job. I had been off sick with depression and anxiety since March and I knew I wasn’t going to go back. The job played a huge part in my illness, along with my redundancy from my previous job, plus I lost two of my grandparents this year – something I am still struggling to come to terms with.
Life is not a simple straight line, where you set your goals and amble along happily, ticking off every achievement with a smug smile. I used to think that would be a bloody perfect way to be, but the word to note there is “perfect”. So, my imagined little straight line of notching up the miles, becoming a fantastic runner, and losing 2.5 stone by November took a little diversion…..
I started skiving off bootcamp and I ate A LOT. All of the time. And I drank A LOT. Not all of the time, but a bottle of wine a night is not a particularly healthy addition to your life. I did a few half-hearted training runs and even “ran” the Hoylake 10k in September. I wanted to give up at 3k but couldn’t because it was a circular route and the faster runners were already on their way back, and I was scared to get in their way!
Before I knew it, Hell Runner day was upon us and I kid you not, it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Almost five hours, four anxiety attacks, a million hills, a frozen lake and numerous bogs later, I crossed the finish line an almost broken woman! I didn’t even look at the medal until the following day. I didn’t feel as if I deserved it. I should have trained harder. I held people back that I knew could have gone faster. I hated myself. And the photographs showed me what I had been trying to deny: my weight has ballooned.
I know that in my first post, I said that I wouldn’t go back to Weight Watchers, but quite honestly, I just don’t know what else I can do. I NEED the support. I can’t do this on my own. That’s not an admittal of failure, it’s just a fact. I need to be able to chat about it and share experiences.
Oh dear, I am about to come out with a cliche: this time it is different. “Oh, really?” I hear you ask! Well, yes actually! And here’s why:
1) Because this time I will be exercising as well. I have stopped skiving bootcamp and although it is much, much harder while I carry an extra 4 stone, I refuse to give up something that I love so much.
2) I understand so much more about food and nutrition. I don’t want to eat a low fat chemical-filled yoghurt just because I know that it has fewer propoints. I’ll stick with the full fat and have less of it with a piece of fruit or something.
3) I am a CBT graduate! As a result of this bout of depression and anxiety, I was lucky enough to go through 12 sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, all paid for by my former employers. It has given me the psychological tools that I need to do this properly. To understand that it doesn’t all rest on a number on the scales. That is just the Weight Watchers measure. I have lots of other measures too: my happiness and confidence levels for a start.
So, in the manner of Bridget Jones, here are today’s figures:
Weight: 13 st 12 lbs
Dress size: 16
I’ll report back soon!