I admit it......I had my first Cadbury's Creme Egg of the year the other day (shame on me!!) It was bloody delicious and nicely took care of that all too frequent chocolate craving that hits once in a while (pretty damn often really!)
I felt i deserved after a particularly torturous session at the gym where i had to lie flat on the floor and squeeze a medicine ball between my bent knees whilst moving my legs towards the floor and up again (3 lots of 15 - aghh!) Safe to say i couldn't walk properly afterwards and couldn't sleep for 2 days due to the subsequent pain. I was very firm at the next session that this exercise was never to be repeated but the kids (bless them) had already told her what a mess i had been during their 'Teen Gym Workout' a few days previously.
During one of those sleepless nights I can up with a hair-brained fundraising idea and set to work getting it organised that very day (once the sun had actually risen). I am now advertising my Pop-Up restaurant, where i aim to serve a different set 3-course meal every month for around 20 guests, who will then be asked to donate what they feel the meal was worth. I'm starting simply with French February (watercress roulade, beef bourginnoine and creme caramel) and this will be followed by Mexican March - you get the picture. I will wait to see how it goes, but it could be a good (if rather involved little money-spinner).......
........that is if we can get all the heavy furniture moved out of the living room into the garden!
Monday, 31 January 2011
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
In Desperate Need of Sleep
Well, it's 2 down and 10 to go - personal training sessions that is. Trouble is, I'm not sure I'll last that long! Obviously most of the attention is going to my currently non-existent thigh muscles in the hope that there will be no more hideously embarrassing skiing incidents this year, and that I will be able to scale sand dunes in the Sahara without even blinking in 2012.
Cardiac-based machines, not a problem really, weights seem manageable although I seem to be constantly adjusting them to the lower settings at present. Stretching is good too. It's the night and 2 days after that are a killer. Since my shoulder was replaced in 2007 because of a suspected MTC metastasis, I have also suffered pain in other joints/bones. I have had no conclusive diagnosis as to what these may be, but the worst pain is in the left hip/femur and lower back.
Never before has exercise hurt so much afterwards! I am popping pain pills and still not sleeping for longer than a couple of hours during the 2 nights following my 1-hour workout (and I have a very high pain threshold - ask anyone). I have to leave the 'comfort' of my Tempur (orthopaedic) pressure-relieving mattress designed by NASA because it's just not comfortable for me any more.
Worse; I seem unable to tip-toe about the house quietly at these ungodly hours and consequently end up waking up the rest of the gang - even the bloody Beast was howling and whining this morning at 5:30am. Queue grumpy bag-eyed children and a family who are all gently snoring on the sofa come 8pm.
Are we the most sleep-deprived family on the planet right now? Of course not. That dubious record probably goes to a large number of now homeless families in a rather damp Queensland, Australia.
So stop moaning Grey and get on with it!!
Cardiac-based machines, not a problem really, weights seem manageable although I seem to be constantly adjusting them to the lower settings at present. Stretching is good too. It's the night and 2 days after that are a killer. Since my shoulder was replaced in 2007 because of a suspected MTC metastasis, I have also suffered pain in other joints/bones. I have had no conclusive diagnosis as to what these may be, but the worst pain is in the left hip/femur and lower back.
Never before has exercise hurt so much afterwards! I am popping pain pills and still not sleeping for longer than a couple of hours during the 2 nights following my 1-hour workout (and I have a very high pain threshold - ask anyone). I have to leave the 'comfort' of my Tempur (orthopaedic) pressure-relieving mattress designed by NASA because it's just not comfortable for me any more.
Worse; I seem unable to tip-toe about the house quietly at these ungodly hours and consequently end up waking up the rest of the gang - even the bloody Beast was howling and whining this morning at 5:30am. Queue grumpy bag-eyed children and a family who are all gently snoring on the sofa come 8pm.
Are we the most sleep-deprived family on the planet right now? Of course not. That dubious record probably goes to a large number of now homeless families in a rather damp Queensland, Australia.
So stop moaning Grey and get on with it!!
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Now I've gone and done it...
So I've finally taken up the offer and purchased 12 personal training sessions for the price of 10 (well the Other Half has but doesn't know it yet). They're canny these gyms aren't they? It's January, we're all feeling a little fatter and unfit so let's entice them in and whip their butts! It is a home for masochists and sadists.
Nevertheless, I am keen this year not to repeat the embarrassing skiing incident of last year and I will need a lot of work on my thighs in order to avoid it. Valloire in the French Alps is an absolutely beautiful small village-like high altitude ski resort where the two main ski lifts leave from the centre of the village. Very civilised - seats and everything. I only learnt to ski 3 years ago (after my shoulder replacement and being advised not to by the physiotherapist) because I was bored sitting at the bottom of the slopes waiting for my family to come down the mountain. After an hour's lesson on the icy 'baby slope' and with the Other Half taken to bed by La Grippe (flu) I bravely offered to accompany the kids down the mountain on our last day, so as to let them get the most out of our week. What I didn't appreciate was that a blue slope is in fact more difficult to navigate than a green slope (I had them the other way around in my head). It took over an hour and much coaxing from Girlie and The Boy to limp down the mountain, with much screaming as we went. I made it down without falling over though until I foolishly celebrated at the bottom by punching the air, unbalancing myself and sliding (rather gracefully I must say) to the ground. Getting up is not my strong point.
And so to last year when, with my skiing ability now bursting beyond the tame green slopes, firmly into the blue (and even a short red by the end of the week), I was encouraged by the Other Half to try a new route up the mountain - a chair lift. I didn't find getting on particularly difficult and the narrow suspended bench flew around to scoop us up; stressful anticipation but not difficult. At the top it was another story. Not only does the hand bar have to be pushed up whilst you are still far to high above the ground (extremely unnerving when you have vertigo) but everyone assumes that getting off will be just as easy - you must have done it before right?
Oh dear
The Other Half instructed, 'when your skis feel the ground just stand up and you will slide forwards'. Sounds easy enough until I tried to stand up and absolutely nothing happened! Yep: total thigh muscle failure. Instead, my bum slipped from the bench and onto the icing 'runway' and I slid (again rather gracefully) along the ground. I'm sure I heard a French expletive and the next thing I knew was that the chair lift had been halted (cue a collective gasp from the poor sods still on it which echoed across the valleys). Lots of upright skiers hanging about at the top (why do they do that - just to laugh at people like me?) helpfully advised me to 'get up' - no chance. Finally the lift operator skidded towards me and hoisted me up under my arms (I have no idea how to say 'don't do that, the left one's bionic and might pop out' in French). The Other Half just laughed.
No, I need to work hard over the next 5 weeks to get those thighs stronger - apparently there are many more chair lifts in Serre Chevalier - this year's destination.
Help!!
Nevertheless, I am keen this year not to repeat the embarrassing skiing incident of last year and I will need a lot of work on my thighs in order to avoid it. Valloire in the French Alps is an absolutely beautiful small village-like high altitude ski resort where the two main ski lifts leave from the centre of the village. Very civilised - seats and everything. I only learnt to ski 3 years ago (after my shoulder replacement and being advised not to by the physiotherapist) because I was bored sitting at the bottom of the slopes waiting for my family to come down the mountain. After an hour's lesson on the icy 'baby slope' and with the Other Half taken to bed by La Grippe (flu) I bravely offered to accompany the kids down the mountain on our last day, so as to let them get the most out of our week. What I didn't appreciate was that a blue slope is in fact more difficult to navigate than a green slope (I had them the other way around in my head). It took over an hour and much coaxing from Girlie and The Boy to limp down the mountain, with much screaming as we went. I made it down without falling over though until I foolishly celebrated at the bottom by punching the air, unbalancing myself and sliding (rather gracefully I must say) to the ground. Getting up is not my strong point.
And so to last year when, with my skiing ability now bursting beyond the tame green slopes, firmly into the blue (and even a short red by the end of the week), I was encouraged by the Other Half to try a new route up the mountain - a chair lift. I didn't find getting on particularly difficult and the narrow suspended bench flew around to scoop us up; stressful anticipation but not difficult. At the top it was another story. Not only does the hand bar have to be pushed up whilst you are still far to high above the ground (extremely unnerving when you have vertigo) but everyone assumes that getting off will be just as easy - you must have done it before right?
Oh dear
The Other Half instructed, 'when your skis feel the ground just stand up and you will slide forwards'. Sounds easy enough until I tried to stand up and absolutely nothing happened! Yep: total thigh muscle failure. Instead, my bum slipped from the bench and onto the icing 'runway' and I slid (again rather gracefully) along the ground. I'm sure I heard a French expletive and the next thing I knew was that the chair lift had been halted (cue a collective gasp from the poor sods still on it which echoed across the valleys). Lots of upright skiers hanging about at the top (why do they do that - just to laugh at people like me?) helpfully advised me to 'get up' - no chance. Finally the lift operator skidded towards me and hoisted me up under my arms (I have no idea how to say 'don't do that, the left one's bionic and might pop out' in French). The Other Half just laughed.
No, I need to work hard over the next 5 weeks to get those thighs stronger - apparently there are many more chair lifts in Serre Chevalier - this year's destination.
Help!!
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Feeling Fat and Forty(something)
Well, although it didn't actually snow, it was still lying about on the ground for Christmas which was lovely. The house was packed to the rafters with relatives and the Christmas tree smelt gorgeous (my favourite bit). However, I have idly sat and eaten (and drunk) so much that i officially feel like a 'blob'. I did begin to kick into action yesterday by taking down the Christmas decorations and doing the piles of washing that had accumulated before our final holiday treat of watching Narnia; Voyage of the Dawn Treader at the cinema.
The bones and joints are all aching at the moment which is probably due to overindulgence and inactivity so getting back into training mode will be double-tough - have I actually ever been in 'training mode' yet I should ask myself??!!!
An inspired thought came to me the other morning as I awoke early as usual and pondered life, the universe and everything. I was so bored of all the well-traversed dog walking haunts, we had nothing planned for the day, and I just needed to get out of house and away from the obviously wilting Christmas tree (which was still smelling great by the way).
After my idea received a rapturous reception from The Other Half, The Boy and Girlie, we packed a picnic and headed for the seaside. Camber Sands is only an hour away (probably feels longer for the poor old Beast, but heh). The tide was on the way out, the long stretch of soft yellow sand widening by the minute revealing band upon band of assorted seashells.
What a training opportunity - SAND DUNES! The beauty of the beach in winter is that it is full of other people with dogs (and a few slighly bonkers men who insisted upon stripping to their boxer shorts and running and flapping like screeching school-girls into the 'surf' for a quick dunk and an even quicker exit). There are no sunbathers, lost children, ice creams, parasols etc. You can actually see the beach and on this occasion, run through the sand dunes like you are really in the Sahara (albeit wearing a warm coat and gloves).
Of course, all this did was emphasize how far I have to go on the training front, but it also inspired me to think about running my own little sand dune training camp for Nomads next winter.
The Other Half, The Boy, The Girlie and me all enjoyed our sand-dune-surfing adventure, The Beast thoroughly enjoyed his swim and we all enjoyed a steaming hot plate of chips from the beachfront cafe for lunch - sod the picnic!
The bones and joints are all aching at the moment which is probably due to overindulgence and inactivity so getting back into training mode will be double-tough - have I actually ever been in 'training mode' yet I should ask myself??!!!
An inspired thought came to me the other morning as I awoke early as usual and pondered life, the universe and everything. I was so bored of all the well-traversed dog walking haunts, we had nothing planned for the day, and I just needed to get out of house and away from the obviously wilting Christmas tree (which was still smelling great by the way).
After my idea received a rapturous reception from The Other Half, The Boy and Girlie, we packed a picnic and headed for the seaside. Camber Sands is only an hour away (probably feels longer for the poor old Beast, but heh). The tide was on the way out, the long stretch of soft yellow sand widening by the minute revealing band upon band of assorted seashells.
The Other Half, The Boy, The Girlie and me all enjoyed our sand-dune-surfing adventure, The Beast thoroughly enjoyed his swim and we all enjoyed a steaming hot plate of chips from the beachfront cafe for lunch - sod the picnic!
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