Mucus, mucus everywhere

Well, that was some cold - practically 'man-flu' I'd say: head filled with glue, throat of barbed wire and the energy levels of a fossilized earthworm.  Naturally it was the perfect excuse to let my new inner fitness freak slide (it doesn't take much).  Still, copious amounts of green jasmine tea and several boxes of tissues later, I could no longer convince the family that I was close to death by mucus, and I dragged my sorry butt back to the gym for a personal trainer 'try-out'.

My PT, Abbi was very bubbly and listened patiently as I listed my health problems and medications (multiple endocrine neoplasia 2a, hypoadrenalism, bionic shoulder, sore hips, steroids, levothyroxine, vitamin D, calcium carbonate, omeprazole, diclofenac.....).  'What do you want to get out of your training?' she asked.  Now, I have a good college friend who is a PT and I know that everyone answers the same; 'lose weight and tone up' is the standard reply.

'Lose weight and tone up so that I can walk 100km through the Sahara' I said.  I think that may have brightened her long day slightly - it certainly made her do a double-take.

My insistance that I was slightly fragile due to my head cold seemed to go unheard by Abbi and I obediently tried some new fangled equipment that is a cross between a cross-trainer and a running machine.  No, it is not in the slightest bit possible to look elegant on this contraption and I was lucky I didn't go flying off the back of it - I hung on for dear life for the full 10 minutes and fully acknowledged the burning pain in my posterior at the end.  A few more familiar cardiovascular exercise machines followed together with a couple of leg weight machines.  I can't really do weight-bearing exercises with my bionic shoulder so the legs get the punishment (sadly, bionic parts bear no relation to anything seen when watching the 6 Million Dollar Man - more like the 1 Penny Woman in fact).  It's a shame really because I'd rather like to nip the developing 'bingo-wings' in the bud!  After some rather painful manipulated stretches on the floor where my hamstrings were proclaimed to be rather 'tight' I was free to go.  Off I limped into the night.....

I had certainly earned my glass of wine this time!

Happiness = 1 hour of sunshine

My determination was rewarded this morning.

It would have been so easy to say 'to hell with walking the dog' as the rain lashed down in the early hours.  A general gloom hung over the breakfast table (not that you can see the table for bits of as yet unassembled Ikea furniture).  Once again the kids effortlessly stalled their way into a lift to the bus stop (Girlie - "my hair will frizz!").  I lifted the mood by mentioning that i had heard on the radio about a new website  where you can track your poo (http://flushtracker.com/index.php)!  Something to do with World Toilet Day no less!!

Did the 'slow and throw' of the kids at the bus stop and then drove through the relentless rain with The Beast up to Ashdown Forest in East Sussex.  Beautiful spot this and the home of Winnie the Pooh, Eyore and Piglet (the original ones, not Disney's).  Suddenly, blue sky!

What a beautiful morning - just the tonic for my developing cold and cough.  The Beast and his mistress in tune with nature and each other!  Then the hill - i imagined it to be a Saharan sand dune (obviously it's a bit cooler on the Kent and Sussex border, but heh).  It's big and it's steep but the views reward the effort required to climb it.

In case you're thinking i'm being a wimp, the picture is only 1/4 of the climb and i am pretty unfit!
The Beast and i paid homage to Winnie the Pooh's creators at the Gill's Lap memorial stone at the top before completing the walk with faces turned towards the sun - bliss.

We made the drive home and the grey clouds circled and surrounded us once again.  My hour of private sunshine and thoughts of Googling 'poo tracker' kept me smiling all the way home..........

Competing with the youngsters

You should never do it you know.  On Saturday I accompanied my eldest (beautiful, slim and curvaceous teenage Girlie) to the gym at which we've held a little-used membership for years.  By virtue of her age she gets to join other teenagers for 'Teen Gym' led by a dedicated bubbly fitness instructor.  I spotted her giggling with the young lad she'd been paired up with.............whilst running, cycling, stepping etc!!!  I hardly have breath to stay conscious on these machines let alone flirt with the sweaty bloke next door.  The husband and the Boy were alledgedly swimming but i suspect from their red faces that they spent most of that time in the steam room and sauna.  Yes, we're having a concerted family effort at keeping (or rather getting) fit though i have to keep asking myself if this a good thing, particularly for my self-esteem!  I think Girlie's getting into it a bit more, and the boy enjoys splashing about with his dad.  I'd think of swapping to swimming with the Boy if it wasn't for the fact that i feel more comfortable in track pants and a tshirt than in a swimsuit!  I know i'll have to take the plunge at some point though since those fitness freaky people are always going on about doing a range of exercise to ensure that all muscle groups are challenged.



The Boy and The Monument



The thighs were seriously challenged yesterday.  The Boy and I were up in London for his hospital appointment which obviously has to involve a bit of fun afterwards (did i really say 'fun'?).  After a leisurely lunch we wandered back towards the train station (the route may have involved a couple of shops....).  At this point the Boy spotted The Monument; a 60m tall Christopher Wren designed column topped off with an enormous golden globe artichoke (well that's what it looks like) that was built to commemorate the Great Fire of London.  Next thing i know, i've paid the princely sum of £4 for us both to climb the bloody thing.  'You've got to count the steps' said the bloke at the entrance.  That's easy for him to say sitting in his little ticket office at the bottom and i'm sure, quietly chuckling to himself at the state of visitors as they leave.  How many suspected heart attacks does he have to bring down from the top each day i wondered?  We made it to the top in a not unreasonable time (the Boy alternately counting and talking all the way - me just fighting for breath) and of course the view from the top was stunning: 3pm on a late Autumn afternoon with the sun going down and mist on the Thames - gorgeous!  There were more mad visitors ascending as we jogged back down again, one of whom climbed the last 50 steps expelling a vitriolic expletive at each step - luckily the Boy didn't seem to hear; he was busy counting again.  311 spiral steps in total and a certificate of achievement once you reach the bottom.  Our legs were turned to jelly!  We staggered across London Bridge and collapsed onto the train home.

Tougher than a gym session any day and probably superb practice for those big sand dunes in the Sahara!

Getting Started.....

.....no not with the training!  Getting started with my very first Blog is challenging enough thank you!

I hope you will enjoy following the ramblings of this wannabee rambler, but this is subject to me actually remembering yet another login password so don't count on too many updates.  I work voluntarily for AMEND (Association for Multiple Endocrine Neoplasia Disorders) and have MEN2a myself.  We have decided that the time is right to raise a huge pot of cash for research into MEN and are hoping to recruit up to 30 people to trek the 100km through the Sahara with the aim of raising £40,000.  Currently there are only 2 of us registered to go - plenty of room on the camels for extra luggage then!

I was lucky enough to have a short spa break with 3 girl friends last week, which for me marked almost exactly 2 years before I am expected to trek 100km through the Sahara Desert.  I thought this was a good time to kick off my training regime, but of course, I'm not sure that this should have included the smuggled-in gin & tonics, champagne and cocktail nibbles in the room before dinner!

Still i did get hooked enough on the latest fitness fad, hula-hooping, to purchase my own hoop with the intention of continuing this surprisingly energetic passtime at home.  Haven't broken anything yet in the living room but it's only a matter of time.  The husband did look at me with raised eyebrows - i suppose this is because every time i go on a spa break, i come back with some weird contraption: gym ball (now consigned to life as an office chair in the study) and the cutely name Wobble Ball (which wasn't a ball at all but a squishy round cushion to stand or sit on to exercise your core muscles without you even realising - notice i said 'wasn't').

I wonder whether i could hula across the Sahara......?