Weighing on the Mind

I find very random motivations to write blog posts. They are largely sparked by emotions, thoughts, or events. I cannot claim to have any deep reasoning behind this blog other than to avoid nibbling on my own arm. It is that time again when my favourite Mexican and I are embarking on yet another weight loss bet. It actually started back in January when we both came back from breaks in the Americas having clearly over-enjoyed the food and drink on offer. The challenge was to lose 11kg/24.2lbs by May 1st – around 1kg per week.

Armed with a fantastic Christmas gift from my girl, a Nike+ Sport Watch, I have gotten back into my running. I had never really gotten out of it even in the States, but it had certainly dropped off somewhat. I already had a GPS watch, but the Nike one is attached to a fantastic Nike website which has all kinds of information, training programmes and schedules. As many folks will have noted, it has been mentioned by one or two of you, you may have seen my Facebook updates whenever I run. I suspect that may be highly annoying to some people, and I am not one for usually updating my status feeding you the very latest updates on the Esteva/Burns household. However, this one is slightly different. When I am running, I have it in the back of my mind, just when I am about to stop, of just how bad or weak my effort will look to so many people if I stop at that point. So I keep running. Inadvertently, and perhaps annoying at times, it does the job. If it annoys you, I am sorry – you have permission to de-friend me!

So, with around three weeks left, we both need to lose another 4kg each….slightly behind schedule but doable. In contrast to the last one we did, I have still been drinking alcohol at times and been eating reasonably normally – I have just increased the amount of exercise, and cut out the garbage food. With 4kg in 3 weeks, it is time to cut the alcohol and decrease the portions now.

Hence the blog. I cannot quite describe how hungry I am right now but typing is preventing me from chewing on my fingers at the very least. If I thought my fingers weighed 4kg, I could be tempted. I suspect the next twenty days are going to be pretty miserable but I am determined to hit the mark this time when we weigh in however brutal it is going to be. It did get me randomly thinking at what point do we stop worrying about what we eat and drink if it makes us happy? Skinny and starvation of the nation is not really for me. With a head the size of mine, a puny body is never going to work. That said, I know I would not be happy if I piled the weight on neither. As with so much in life, I guess it is finding the right balance. Maybe when I’m 70 I’ll ditch it and just have a house full of crisps and bathe or shower myself daily in Boddingtons. But for now, the mission continues.

Mohave Mirage

It is 3.30pm and I am in the Mohave Desert. I have been walking for days, it feels like weeks, months, years. Little food, little water, I do not really know who I am any more. I don’t feel like my old self, don’t look like my old self. It is an out of body experience that is hard to describe unless you have experienced it yourself. I’m emotional but numb, physically and mentally. I can’t talk. There is nobody to talk to, and I don’t have the energy to talk even if I could. I haven’t seen anybody for miles, nothing living anyhow, I haven’t seen any sign of life or any landmarks or anything. Is there any end to this journey….wait. What can I see in the distance? There’s a building. An old dusty old building. I get closer, I see a sign. The signs says ‘We sell Boddingtons here – barrels and barrels in stock!’ The first sign of life I have seen for miles and they sell my favourite beer. I pinch myself, I am awake. I cannot believe this. If this is the way I leave this world, let the last mouthful I take be a gulp of room temperature Boddingtons. Heck, it could be even be cold, I’d take that after being out in 45c degrees heat for so long. I break into what feels like a sprint but I know deep down it is only a jog. The pub is drawing ever closer and I can see the door only metres away. I stop and pause, can this really be happening. I rub my eyes and re-open them. The pub….the pub is now miles away in the distance. It is getting further and further away.

Me and my girl run once or twice week together. We need to do more, and sometimes run separately if our schedules do not suit. We have one particularly route that we do every so often – our apartment, to Lutry and then back along the lake to Ouchy. It is approximately 9km, and it can be shortened or extended depending on whether HJ feels like Paula Radcliffe, and whether I feel like Hicham El Guerrouj. The first 3km is reasonably pleasant, a fair amount of it is a slow downhill run which breaks my sensitive body into the run slowly. I can deal with that. From around 5-8km, we run along the longest road in the world. The Mohave Desert. We run along the road until we reach a set of traffic lights eventually and we turn left at that point and down to the lake. When I run, I look for milestones and landmarks, it keeps me motivated. On this long stretch of small inclines and bumps, there are four sets of traffic lights. I am struggling at this point and I hope and pray that each and every one of them is the final one, which means the run is almost over and there is light at the end of the tunnel. Disappointment comes with each traffic light which does not signal the left turn. Then, we run round a corner and see the lights. The lights. I see them now. This time, the lights do not disappear in the distance. There is life back in these old heavy legs of mine, and I can see the lights.

Nobody said getting in shape was easy and nobody said running was pleasant. Well, maybe they did, but it wasn’t Robert Christian Esteva. Still, the end point is very enjoyable. Sitting there, having accomplished a reasonably solid run, is a great feeling. It is that final sip of Boddingtons, that is just so sweet after the trials and tribulations to get to that stage. I will be making more regular visits to the Mohave in the coming weeks – don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.