There is another way: the Obsidian experience

So... Obsidian. I have been back from my trip to Southern Spain for a little over three weeks, and life has been as manic as ever; but I wanted to report back on the experience, and my continuing progress - so here I am. [I'm dating this entry shortly after my return, although it's being written in retrospect!]

[The above is my first Obsidian sunset. You can see my photo album of the whole stay by clicking here.]

I was introduced to the Obsidian Retreat by a local friend and business networking contact, Debi. She has achieved some inspiring weight loss herself in the last few months, as has her husband, and this was inspired and kick-started by her initial visit to the retreat. She has since become their General Manager - commuting every couple of weeks between Norfolk and Spain - and is working to raise the profile of this excellent place. She spread the word around those friends and colleagues that she knew were keen to review their health and fitness, and that included me.

So on 3 June, I set out for Spain via Stansted Airport. I arrived late that evening, and spent the next eight full days - leaving at lunchtime on Thursday 12 June - taking advantage of many of the opportunities afforded by my stay. This included:

• superb vegan food, delicious imaginative salads and amazing juices - all of which, as a lifelong meat-and-dairy girl, I found surprisingly easy to adapt to
• a 5K walk every morning (tougher in the Spanish hills than at home in Norfolk!)
• various exercise classes, from yoga to rebounding (mini trampoline), stretch & tone and Zumba, as well as higher-impact workouts that are less my personal style but clearly worked very well for other guests
• use of the little gymnasium and the swimming pool at any time of the day or night
• a thorough medical assessment and in-depth interview at the start and end of my stay, with weights and measures of all kinds allowing me to monitor progress
• cookery and juicing demonstrations
• talks relating to health, motivation, inspiration, future planning
• two visits to local seaside resorts for a change of scene and keeping in touch with real life!
• support and encouragement from all staff, including the nurse, yoga teacher, several fitness coaches, life coach mentor - and all the other guests during my stay

What about the food? Well, this is intended as a detox (although it's up to you to what extent you do this). My toughest challenge was doing without my 4-5 mugs each day of strong Assam tea. I spent the first three days in a bit of a confused fog - with attendant headache - from caffeine deprivation. However, I soon became accustomed to fruit, herbal and Redbush tea, taken without milk.

The juicing is a revelation. Imaginative combinations of vegetables and fruit made into effectively giant shakes (although there's no milk in there!) in a pretty large glass; always served for breakfast, and guests choose a juice or salad for lunch, and juice or vegan evening meal. For days 1-3 I had two juices and one meal each day; days 4-6 were spent entirely juicing; days 7-9 one juice and two meals.  I was seldom hungry, took around an hour to drink each juice, drank loads of water, and after the initial three days felt genuinely much, much better in myself.

Now, I could have done a lot more exercise than I actually did; but what I did worked well for me. My own personal fitness investment went something like this:

• 5K walk every morning (except the first one)
• several yoga classes
• one stretch & tone
• three rebounding classes
• one Zumba class
• two swims
• one gym session

I also spent a fair bit of time sleeping; talking to staff and other guests; a few treatments (facial, manicure, sports massage); a counselling session; and several talks and workshops. As I observed to a friend, the lack of 'normal' daily responsibilities is extraordinarily liberating: no cooking or housework, emails (unless you want to!) or work, means that 24 hours in each day is yours to use as you wish. If you sleep for 8 hours each night, that still leaves SIXTEEN HOURS for the other activities.

I was inspired and encouraged, as I've said, by so many people. Each day new people came and went, with different aims and lives and situations, and I never failed to be impressed by their willingness to try all that the resort had to offer. 

On my final day, I was delighted to find that I had - in the course of eight days - lost seven pounds, leaving behind the scarily imminent 'medically obese' definition (5'5" tall and 12 stone 13 pounds) and reaching 12 stone 6 pounds. Better still, my BP was lower than I believe it has ever been in my adult life: it went down from 131/95 to 114/76. I had lost an inch each from waist and hips. Best of all, I had found my enjoyment of the vegan, non-dairy, non-caffeine, non-alcohol regime had been far, far easier than I would ever have imagined, and the health benefits were very clear.

Click here to find out what's happened since I came home!

There is another way

I haven't written in this blog since 2011. Somehow I could never bring myself to delete it, as I subconsciously knew that the issue - that of maintaining a level of health that allowed me to live my life - wasn't going to go away. Meanwhile, my injuries caused more trouble and my weight topped out at just over thirteen stone - bringing me into the 'medically obese' category.

I will write a more detailed post as soon as I can (the backlog of emails and laundry after nine days' absence is rather scary) but in the meantime I just wanted to say:

THANK YOU, OBSIDIAN

In eight days, I have lost seven pounds (that's represented by the yellow stuff I'm holding in the photo). I went from 12-13 to 12-6.

Much more importantly, I have gained a huge amount of friendship, knowledge, support, ideas and inspiration from the superb staff, from coaches to cooks to cleaners.

Obsidian is a health resort near Benissa, an hour from Alicante, in southern Spain.The experience was extraordinary, relaxing, exhausting and rewarding in equal measure.

More soon, but as a taster, please check out their website here; and feel free to view my photo album here.

And expect to see me back on this blog much more frequently in coming weeks and months.

Next post: The Obsidian Experience

Exercise

I've been managing an average of two gym sessions each week, usually with Kim. However, I've also been walking, usually with my husband, round the village - we have four different routes. This usually happens about 3-4 times each week; each route is an average of 1.6 to 1.7 miles. Sometimes it's been grim weather, but occasionally we've been treated to some completely wonderful scenes around the Norfolk countryside, which lifts the spirits as well as the heartrate.

My foot still hurts. That's why I'm still not running. It's no more than mildly uncomfortable while I'm walking, but on my return it's generally unpleasant. But frankly, if it's going to hurt anyway (and it usually does), I might just as well get in whatever exercise I can.

... next post ...

Triumph & tribulation

Last night, Kim & I went for a warmup at the gym, then along our favoured route between the Longwater and Bowthorpe roundabouts (exactly 1.5 miles each way). We successfully managed to run the first leg, and were very pleased. However, my heel was really sore by the end of it, so we walked back again.

Not a bad result: a pace of just under 12 minutes in the running (17'57" for the 1.5 miles), and obviously much slower (28'31") for the walk back. But I'm now concerned at just how sore the heel is feeling. I thought the plantar fasciitis had begun to leave me alone - and after 18 months, it would be about time - but this morning I can barely walk on it, despite painkillers & ice last night. I am still not at all sure whether the orthotics are causing more problems than they are solving; do I need new trainers; should I give in and have a steroid jab...

Will do my best with the Sport Relief Mile - it's only a mile, for heaven's sake! - on Sunday; but am trying very hard not to be depressed right now. No fair.

The first running mile for months

... or nearly a mile, anyway. 0.92 of a mile, from my front door to our first pausing point.

Kim & I went out for a run-walk this morning. Lovely spring day, snowdrops all over the place, sun came out towards the end. Down the usual route to Morton, a brief pause to admire the snowdrops, then on down to the exit from the far end of the estate. Back again, through the woods and home again.

That first leg was all running - and for the most part, according to the Nike+, at a pace that wasn't too far over a ten minute mile and occasionally a bit faster. We then ran and walked alternate bits all the way back to the Rectory, giving us a total mileage (slightly under the Nike+ calculation of 2.86) of 2.72 miles in 34'16". Given that we'd done several stretches of walking, the average pace of just over 12:30 wasn't too bad.

Kim always did bully me out of the frame of mind that said I can't do this. Thankfully. Love her for it.

Now I know that I'll be able to run a mile on Sunday week!

Just a walk

... but as I went to the postbox first (so an extra 0.4 miles in the opposite direction and back), it was at least 2.23 miles and 36 minutes "in oxygen", as they say.

Cold, grey day. Beautiful snowdrops in the woods at Morton.

I got out

Telling myself that I'd just walk my usual 1.75 miles, but as fast as possible, I put on the sports bra under the warm clothes (just in case) and off I went. Very late in the day (nearly 6pm) - I should've gone out two hours earlier - but just made it in the light.

My first reward for going out was a fantastic mackerel sky that I otherwise wouldn't have seen. Of course, the real camera would have done a much better job than the iPhone, but hey.

My second reward was to manage to break into a run, twice, which was (according to the iPhone Nike+ utility - sorry, I'm a geek) a sub-10 minute pace, even if it was only for a couple of minutes. The rest of the walk averaged out at around a 15 minute mile, which was fair enough.

I've committed to running just one mile for Sport Relief in a fortnight's time. I've been too embarrassed to ask for sponsorship so far, and ditto the Race for Life 5K in May, which I've also entered. However, if I can make it down to Morton Hall in one hit in the next thirteen days, never mind back again, then the first one is covered without too much loss of dignity. And then - well, who knows? Back in 2007, I went from zero to a 5K in exactly the same period of time (in fact, less - my first ever run was made on 24th March for a RfL at the same weekend as this one will be). So I can do it again.

Good week

Having managed three gym sessions during this last week - one very brief (only 30 mins, but hey, it's better than nothing) before a rehearsal, and two decent-length workouts with Kim (about 50 mins + stretches in each case), the two of us got out for a run-walk today, together, for the first time in forever.

Genuine reason for only running (and that very slowly) part of the route was that all the recent snow / sleet / hail have left the roads, in places, treacherous, and turning ankle during get-back-to-running time didn't seem wise; but coming up through the woods at Morton Hall, rather than up the drive, the sheltered and leaf-covered paths were actually much easier to run on - no ice! Yes, tough going and wobbly legs; yes, we probably only ran about three-quarters of a mile out of the total of just under 2 miles; but good. Very good. No idea how long it took; was more interested in getting it done than timing it. Having bought a new sensor for the Nike+ kit I'll start monitoring it again soon.

I made our entries for the 2010 Race for Life this week, and was rather deflated when looking for a running photo of myself for the sponsorship page: depressing to see how different I look now. However, I've done it before so I can do it again.

NB: left heel (plantar fasciitis) hurts like the devil right now, but it didn't while we were running. That job went to the under-used thighs and calves.

Hang on in there with me.

Busy week

... aren't they all?

In London for decluttering work from Monday afternoon through to late Wednesday. As I was (a) staying overnight with my client on Tuesday, and (b) travelling back to Norfolk by train direct from London on Wednesday, had to have all my kit with me in rucksack; so the fact that I at least walked the 1.2 miles to the station rather than getting the bus was still better than nothing!

Got myself out on Thursday to do the Morton run, which was good and steady, and at a 10:29 pace - not bad.

Friday saw Kim & I doing our first weight session at the gym in (aargh!) a month. Am typing this the following morning, and no apparent aches and pains just yet! It felt very good - that really nice feeling when the muscles have been stretched, but not to painful point.

Next weekend, my sister will be here with her two kids. I don't think I'll challenge a 7 and a 9 year old to a race, somehow...

Accompanied by birdsong

I walked down to Morton and back this morning to give some technical support. I really don't do morning running - especially not after a gym session the night before!

The plan was to run with Kim this evening, but she's not feeling well; so, as it's another lovely evening, it was no hardship to take myself down to Morton once more.

I was serenaded all the way down; not that I can identify any of them (despite the guideliness in the wonderful Bad Birdwatcher's Companion, which I am much enjoying at the moment).

Not a bad outing; a 10:37 pace is respectable at the moment, considering that even at best (last autumn) I didn't make it below 10:30. Besides, contemplating the prospect of running that route another two-and-a-half times (the 10K I've just entered for) makes me focus on distance, not speed!

I was a junior marathon-er

Watching today's inspirational London Marathon, and fantasising about being there one day, I reflected that in fact some of the participants walk it - in part or in whole. While it's a very real dream of mine to actually run a marathon - preferably before I'm fifty - it's liberating to realise that the same "walk, jog or run" applies to 26.2 miles as it does to 3.1 miles - and that's what enabled me to attempt my first Race for Life last year.

More than that, though: something in the back of my mind said you have done this already, you know. A distant memory stirred of a very long sponsored walk when I was at school: a grey, wet day (like today), and this plodder here refusing to give up, or take a lift. When was it?

I burrowed around in some old files, and found it. On Sunday, 24th March 1974 (I was just over 11 years old), I apparently took place in the Mayor's Sponsored Walk. I had a total sponsorship of 20p per mile (wow) and according to my form, I walked 24 miles. Not quite a marathon, but not far off it. And here's the proof.



How long it took me, I've absolutely no idea - I would imagine in the region of 6-7 hours. However, I clearly did it, and knowing how stubborn I was then (what do you mean, then?), I doubt that I would have cheated.

So if I did it aged 11 - even though not a step would have been run - I reckon that, 35 or so years later, I can do it again...

The station run

No sooner had we arrived back in Norfolk after our holiday than I was off again: this time, happily, to earn some money! Four days' decluttering work split between two clients in London. A very enjoyable time, and I hope my clients found it so!

It's just under 1.2 miles from my parents' home to Walthamstow Central Station, and this route was one of my very first attempts at a walk-run combination when I started this lark, about a year ago (good grief). On the first morning, I was carrying a handbag (happily, the sort that you can sling across your back in the style of a rucksack - the newly discovered and excellent Healthy Back Bag) but also had a carrier bag with change of shoes, reading matter - that sort of thing. Bad idea. Totally off-balanced me, made the run deeply uncomfortable and excruciatingly slow - not enjoyable. And that ankle was protesting a bit, too.

Second morning, I walked it. Third morning, I'd learnt from the first try: I didn't take a change of shoes, stuck with the trainers; took a magazine [Runner's World, natch] that would go into my handbag; and didn't need an additional carrier. Much better, and some bits of the run (okay, okay, the downhill bits) were really enjoyable - much as things used to be. Final morning, walked it again.

So it wasn't a huge amount of running; but given that in a previous life I'd have done the whole lot by bus, I guess it's an improvement!

A week of friends

On Tuesday, it was down to London. A wonderful week took in Melanie and her gorgeous twins, Zoe & Paul, and Joanna - all from our musical group, Chimes Musical Theatre; lunch with my boss, Pat (from Epsom Council days) with her daughter Clara and their assorted cats; lunch with our American friend, John, who took us to the Atheneum (!!); and finally to my parents' for the night before returning to Norfolk on the Saturday.

No running, but an awful lot of walking; which, together with at least some attempt at sensible eating (I probably looked like a fish by the end of the week, I'd eaten so much of it) meant that by our return home, I weighed in at a more reassuring 147 lb. OK - we can handle this.

And I got my act together sufficiently to run on the day we got home, too! I was greeted by the cows down Ann's driveway to Morton Hall, who felt like old friends... It was wonderful to see our London friends, who I miss very much, but I so don't miss London as a place.

A long walk

Today was Swannington in Bloom day: one of the villages in the team of churches that my husband is responsible for. Fourteen gardens spread around the village, each with their own beautiful style. There were two tractors driving the route around the village, as the distance between the two furthest properties from each other must've been about 2-3 miles. Yes, I know I should have been walking the whole thing; but being ill-shod for serious walking, I used the tractors to get to and from the furthest garden. However, just going around the gardens nearest to each other, to the village green for plant sales and tombola (as you do), and so forth, still registered over 11,000 steps on the pedometer, and nearly 7 km... I think that counts as my exercise for the day!

A few steps further

Our Friday night run seems to be getting to be a (very welcome) habit at the end of the working week. Having got over the worst of the aches from earlier in the week, I invited Kim to come to me for our run, and set out with my husband in the morning to try out our planned 3 mile route. Instead of going the usual way down to the gates of Morton Hall and back again, we walked further down the road and took a later footpath in through the back of the estate, then out by the normal route; and reckoned that it was about three miles, or perhaps just slightly shorter.

It turned into another beautiful evening, and after tea and a chat Kim and I set off. The bits through the field and across the farmyard were, we decided, a bit tricky at this stage - the last thing we want is a sprained ankle just before the Race for Life - but we jogged them slowly, nonetheless, and got round the whole thing and back home in about 21 minutes of jogging. We'd stopped for a stretch and a breather after about a mile, and walked a couple of short distances - oh, and stopped to say hello to the cows, too...



...but the result was that (apart from the final, tiny uphill slope on the last few yards back home, which is always a killer) it was a comfortable run, and I kept going for much longer than I'd ever have dreamed when I started all this running lark - which was just five weeks ago.

Of course, we then took advantage of all this exercise-calorie-burning, and having eaten at Kim's local last week, this time it was the turn of the Parson Woodforde over the road to the Rectory!

Ouch

OK, so I had done a run (3m) with Kim on Friday evening and 2 x 1m to Morton hall on Saturday morning, followed by a fairly intensive weights sessions on Saturday afternoon... so I was pushing it a bit?

When I got out of the car at the end of my two-hour drive down to London on Sunday, everything was screaming. On Monday I walked a lot - from my parents' house to the station (1.3 miles), plus after work up the hill to Notting Hill Gate for the St George's Day service - and this so did not feel like a fit person! Every time I stood up from a seat, the thighs rebelled. Owowowowowow.

However, by Tuesday morning matters had improved somewhat, and I managed a half-jog-half-walk both to and from the station - carrying shoulder bag and carrier bag - so was encouraged again. More encouraging were comments from an old friend at the St George service who hadn't seen me for some little while!

Incidentally, I've come to the conclusion that it's easier to stay fit in London than in the beautiful countryside. If I don't go out for the gym or a walk when I'm working at home, I'm lucky to hit 2,000 steps. Monday showed nearly 13,000 steps. Commuting obviously has to have something going for it!

Flop

First chance to go out for a run since getting back from holiday, emerging late afternoon from the emails and the laundry. Clearly in too much of a hurry to think straight!

Halfway down our lane I realised two things: one, that I'd forgotten to put on a sports bra instead of the regular variety (and despite weight loss, there's no way I can jog without major support!); and two, that the jogging trousers I'd grabbed, which I hadn't worn since last summer, were not only too big but actually falling down as I ran... (Have you seen that advert for Nimble bread where the workmen keep losing their jeans?) After an abortive couple of minutes of attempted running with one hand across the bazookas and the other holding up my trousers, I gave it up as a bad job and took a two-mile walk instead!!

This evening was our wedding anniversary (twelfth), so we had a lovely meal at the Ratcatcher's Inn, near Cawston. Having stuck to one glass of wine per night for several weeks, I felt decidedly tiddly on half a bottle...

Triumphant

OK, so anybody reading this is probably sick of me sounding smug... but this is more of an achievement than I'd have believed possible.

Every holiday I've returned from, since the dawn of time, has shown an increase of weight. This holiday I didn't worry about it too much: normal three meals a day, one glass of wine with supper (even a pub fish & chips one night!), and when my husband had a slice of lemon cake with his tea ("just to top up the carbohydrate, you understand") I'd have a mouthful. (Oh, and it's about time there was a photo of one of my greatest supporters, so here he is with said delicious lemon cake - we were visiting the beautiful and tranquil Helmsley Walled Garden at the time.)



The pedometer readings for the week have been impressive - lots of wandering up and down beaches, round towns, up and down the one-in-four hill into Staithes, and up and down the five flights of stairs in our cottage. During the days there, the lowest was just under 7,000 steps; the highest (on Thursday, which included my jog in the morning) was over 16,000. If ever there was proof that this is the way to eat, drink, be merry and look the way I want to, this is it.

When I last reported back on this blog (4th April), I was 10-12 (152 lb). I'd kept quiet about the scales registering 154 lb on the day we went away (as you do).

This morning it was 151 lb.

YESSSSS....

A long beach at Saltburn

Thursday

Typical. Find myself on a beautiful long beach, but by that time - after a long day of wandering, and a jog in the morning - can't summon the energy to make the most of it! It's a completely lovely evening - misty sun, surfers and horses and dogwalkers making the most of it - oh, and a couple of hundred steps down to the beach... Somebody is trying to tell me something.

So we settle for romantic photography instead.

Did Robin Hood have a pedometer?

Wednesday

A visit to the glorious Robin Hood's Bay, complete with more lovely views and another excellent hill. The nice thing is that I would have found all these great walks pretty painful / exhausting / impossible until recently.



And I'm not as scared of the camera, either.

(What does Robin Hood [Nottinghamshire] have to do with Robin Hood's Bay [East Yorkshire], anyway?)