peeking over the parapet

I had a real hissy fit the other day.

As you can see, if you're really interested, from earlier entries, my fitness journey went in waves. Having spent around 44 years messing around with dieting but little exercise, in January 2007 I finally cracked it, and got a PT; six weeks later, I started running; and for eighteen months, life was good. A couple of minor injuries were overcome, I always got back in the swing of things, and the lost 20lb or so stayed off.

Plantar fasciitis kicked in during the autumn of 2008, and wrecked everything. And yes, I guess I let it. But it hurt. Lots. And that feeling of freedom, of running without ouch-ouch-ouch, which I found just occasionally, was lost. And I panicked. And the weight went back on. And so on, and so on.

Let's be fair to self: the weight didn't quite all go back on - it was all bar about 4lb. Given that in any previous existence I'd have leapfrogged over my previous heaviest weight, I guess I can put this down to the fact that I've at least managed one gym session per week, on average, during that fifteen months or so since I was running regularly. I've managed to stay within a size 14, rather than giving in to the sixteens again - but oh, the twelves were so much better.

So the hissy fit? Well, I'm in a play right now - rehearsing for a production of Come Back to the 5 & Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean at the Sewell Barn Theatre in Norwich, last two weeks in February. My character is Sissy - who, if you've ever seen the 1970s film, was the part played by Cher. I don't have her waistline, hair, eyes or money, but I sure as hell have the tits - and always will do, no matter what my weight.

Well, we had publicity photos taken the other night. I need a wig (my own hair is much too short for the period) and the only one they could source for the occasion looked awful - more width on my face I really do not need. And when I saw myself next to the actresses playing Mona (dainty, petite) and the younger versions of Mona & Sissy (gorgeous teenagers) on the screen on the back of the digital camera, my heart sank. Elephantine was not the word. Well, it was, actually.

I got home, and found an comment awaiting moderation: from the lovely gymbunny21, asking ever so nicely where my updates were, and saying how much she'd enjoyed this blog in the past. She's lost two stone - good on you, girl. She's just started her blog, and is newly motivated. Had I kept my weight off, was I still running?

Well, I just sat down and howled. I'd been ignoring the blog, ignoring the scales, and trying not to remember how good it used to make me feel, because I felt so ashamed. And here was a complete stranger caring what had happened to me.

So here we are again. I tried to run back in April last year - and gave up after a couple of tries; and again in August - ditto. Now the Race for Life 5K beckons once more. The heel might hurt still, but when I said to my darling friend and erstwhile PT, Kim, "I can walk for about half an hour before it starts to hurt" she wisely pointed out that if I could walk, then I could run for that time, too. The resting hasn't helped it, as far as I can tell, so I may as well put up with the discomfort.

And if I can get back to one or two runs plus one or two gym sessions per week, I know that those twenty pounds will be behind me. (No, I don't mean on my arse.)

I have just turned 47. I don't want to get any nearer fifty with the same image problems as I've had virtually all my life. So... here we go again.

I have just got back from a walk-run. My old, favourite route, down to Morton Hall: 1.75 miles round trip, flat-ish (this is Norfolk, after all) but a few undulating bits that make it slightly harder work on the way back. 200 steps walking and 200 running on the way there; the same on the way back but alternating every 100 steps. CV: not too bad. Leg muscles: despite gym sessions, clearly wondering what the heck I'm up to. Heel: not actually painful, but clearly something is still out of kilter. Not sure how much of that is psychological. Don't know how long it took me, I forgot to time it, but I think it was around about 22 minutes - so at least a bit faster than a straight walk would have been.

Weight: 11 stone 10 lb. Weeks till RfL: just over 15.

Thank you, Kim. Thank you, husband. And thank you, gymbunny, for the kick up the substantial arse that I needed.