Category: Random

January’s nearly over already.  Feck.  That went quickly!  Time is definitely speeding up.  It’s been a busy month, in fact much busier than planned.  Lots of work trips, busy weeks but fairly quiet weekends has made for a nice mix.  It’s been nice for a change to be home nearly every weekend, and not to have much planned.  These weekends have been great, but possibly a little too restful.  From getting to a point where I was gymming it four days a week, my gym visits have decreased drastically.  It doesn’t take long for a good habit to go south.  Or for bad ones to go north. Or east or west, or at least in the wrong direction.  Next weekend I’ve got a 10k run, and it’s fair to say I’m a bit nervous about it.  Running lately has been difficult, primarily due to my weight (which is as bad as it’s ever been. EVER. Oink oink.), but also I can really feel the impact of inconsistency in the gym (read: doing fuck all makes running hard, FACT).  Anyway, I decided to concentrate more on running this last couple of weeks until the 10K, then I can get back into the weights, and get back to where I was in terms of 4 sessions a week.  I’m just so generally unfit at the moment I thought I ought to be sensible and focus on one thing at a time.  I’ve been using my spin bike too, but jeez even that feels hard at the moment.

Anyway, I’ve heard a few people joke that January was a good trial month, and the shit gets real from February.  I like that idea!  January hasn’t been a disaster though.  Here’s a report on achievements. Oh and also on stuff that may have slightly hampered the impact of said achievements:

• eating much better in terms of proteins/fats/carbs in line with training for my main meals – yay!
• eating shit like cakes from the work cafe in-between those good meals – ermmmmmmmm……
• getting to bed earlier to get more sleep – win!
• staying up late boozing on work trips = drunk + sleep deprived – bollocks (insert ‘angry at self’ face)
• doing a couple of runs a week which is the most I’ve run for MONTHs – woo hoo!
• dying out my arse on the runs and getting progressively slower (is that meant to happen?!) – arggggggggggggg!!!

SO, February is the time to keep up the good habits and kick the arse of the bad habits.  Fridge/freezer full of good food, next couple of days food planned out, runs planned, early nights ahoy.  Although I anticipate something akin to an Apocalypse Now-esque race next Sunday, I’m looking forward to getting my first race of the year done, so I can hang another medal on the wall.  I’ve been inconsistently consistent, so aiming this month to bin the inconsistency part of the equation.  What’s the worst that can happen?

Oh and to top it off I’m going to partake of a ‘dry February’.  No booze (insert panicked face).  Not doing it for charity (though it’s understandable to assume Scottish folk only give up the sauce if cash is involved), but for the sake of my heaving body.  Sadly as soon as it passes my lips, alcohol seems to turn straight into blubber, so giving it the heave-ho for a month will help kick-start my fat loss again.

Wish me luck. Or alternatively if you see me attempting to eat a cake, punch me.  That would probably be more effective.

I shall report on progress!

🙂

 

 

I’d love to say I started this year off in the manner to which I would like to continue, but when you begin by waking up 36 mins after the start of the New Year’s Day Parkrun, well, let’s just say I’m aiming to do better next week.  That said, my bed was supremely cosy, and difficult to leave, and the long lie did me the world of good.  I’ve atoned slightly by helping out at today’s regular Saturday run, though I fear the wind and rain might have been punishment for being a tad lazy on the 1st.  Sorry about that folks…

Anyhoo, the year has in fact started well, so all is good.  After a lovely sleep I awoke with no hangover, which is never a guarantee after Hogmanay, but in truth I didn’t fancy caning the booze anyway, and only had a couple of small (large) gins the night before.  A pretty quiet day was planned, but most the exciting thing that I was looking forward to was a play on my new spin bike.

Anyone that reads the guff I write on here will know that i’m great at setting myself a bazillion challenges that, if achieved, would probably see me clear to a spot in the GB Rio 2016 team.  However, while i’m good at thinking up lots of exciting things to do, i’m not always so hot on actually completing them.  For me, half the fun is the thought of taking part in running races or triathlons, looking forward to the banter and post-race celebrations.  I always imagine myself sprinting over the line, arms aloft in glory, smiling as the well-earned medal is draped around my neck.  Sounds great, right?  Well, you know how some people consider themselves really fat and unfit when in actual fact they only weigh 3 stone and could sprint a marathon in 2 hours flat?  I seem to have the opposite affliction.  In my head i’m the size and shape I want to be, and as fit as a fiddle.  A passing glance in a mirror or attempt at a run soon puts me in my place, but I always forget this when I imagine that race finish, and before I know i’ve signed up to all sorts.  It’s easy to imagine that glory from the comfort of my couch.  So 2016’s big goal was intended to be the Chicago marathon in October.  I deferred the ballot place I excitedly won in 2015, and was all set to tackle that beast.  Except, actually, do I reeeeeeeeally need to run all those miles in training?  Are you sure?  Surely saying i’m doing it is enough???  Insert wailing-faced smiley.  So for once in my life I’ve decided to face facts.  As much as I really would love to run a marathon and get a time I can be proud of, honestly I just can’t face the training right now.  If I was 5 stone lighter and in the best shape of my life then it wouldn’t necessarily be a daft goal.  Except that I’m not.  So I started to think about what I really, truly, ACTUALLY want: to get to my goal weight and be strong and fit.  I’ve signed up with a nutritionist and i’m loving the gym work i’m doing, and consistency with both will help get me there.  I do like running shorter distances, but what I absolutely ADORE is spinning.  I’ve missed it since I left Edinburgh, and i’ve not found a class that comes close to the wonderful world of LifesCycle, so i’ve bitten the bullet and bought myself a spin bike.  I know it’s not the same as being there, but since I usually close my eyes and listen to the music when i’m spinning, I can replicate that to an extent at home.  So cue my own bike.  I’ve done two sessions on it so far, and oh emm geeeee I love it.  I forgot what a massive adrenaline buzz I get from spinning.  Lights off, music blasting, I can almost hear The Huntz shouting “ARE YOU WITH ME???”.  I may have randomly shouted “YES!!!” into the empty flat.  So now i’ve got everything I need to get me to where I need to be: good nutritional advice, a fab PT/gym programme, a much-coveted spin bike and not least the time to devote my energies to good food and exercise (i’ve a quiet 2016 in the pipeline, at least much quieter than 2015!).   All I need to do now is, well, just get on with it.

Happy days 🙂

Well I made it.

My 40th birthday has now been and gone, and I’ve not spontaneously combusted or gone grey overnight, so I reckon I’ll be okay.  In actual fact, I had the best party ever, thanks to my lovely wee pal who arranged a fabulous little get-together, and I had a boozy night with lots of pals from different parts of my life, and it was so much fun.  It was a late one, with lovely people who made it a very special night to remember, and I shall think back on the night very fondly.  Plus, I didn’t even have a hangover, which I think was a special birthday gift from the Gin Gods above. Thank-you, you Juniper-scented angels!!

So anyone reading this will be VERY pleased that I can now stop harking on about reaching the Big 4-0.  The reason I started worrying about it was because I felt that by this point in life I should be further on in terms of career, savings, buying a house, being in a relationship, yada yada yada….. However, I’ve come to realise that what is really important is that I’m happier than I’ve ever been, with my life and particularly with myself.  While there are lots of exciting things I want to do, and lots of progress to be made on the health and exercise side of life, I can honestly say I worry a WHOLE lot less about what other people think of me, and this means I can focus on the people I care about, and who I know love me, as I do them.  Now I put my energy into thinking about all the positives in my life, of which there are too many to mention.  Right at the top though are family and friends, all of whom make life better everyday 🙂

What next?  Well I’m really excited about getting back to focusing on improving my performance in the gym and nailing my nutrition.  I’m excited about the progress I’m going to make in the next few months, to finally put the missing pieces of the puzzle into place.  Once I’ve cracked that, I’ll finally have achieved the one goal that has always eluded me.  This time I know I’ll get there, a sentence i’ve said before but never really believed.  That’s in no small part thanks to all my wonderful friends, who’ve always believed in me and thus have allowed me to believe in myself.  You all rock 🙂

Happy older (slightly) Pea x

When I was wee, I always used to have a fascination with Australia.  All my school chums were obsessed with going to America, to find out if it really was just like all the crazy things we watched on TV.  The American Dream and all it stood for at that time was pervasive (and persuasive I guess), but my dreams always took me a bit further away.  When I was in my late teens and early twenties, taking a gap year prior to Uni was all the rage, yet it felt as though it was reserved for the few, not the many.  It seemed that only public school posh twats (well, I did go to Uni in Edinburgh, and was surrounded by them…) had that privilege, and anyway, I was already in Uni and the gap year concept felt really far removed.  Anyway, not one to be told what to do, or more importantly, what I couldn’t do, I decided that I too would have a share of this travel dream, even if I wasn’t posh (I am a bit of a twat though).  I started to question why I couldn’t go off on my own to far-flung places and have an adventure?  The only thing stopping me was a bit of cash, but also the guts to take the leap.  So I got a job after Uni temping in an office.  It was the most mind-numbing job I’ve ever done, but I worked with some awesome people and had a lot of laughs, mostly over a lot of booze after work in the bars around Edinburgh.  I saved up some cash for a trip.  The months went by and suddenly I was ready to start my round-the-world adventure.

Fast forward another month and a bit, and by that point I felt like an inveterate traveller, having conquered the South Pacific, New Zealand and the east coast of Australia without losing my passport, mind or liver to severe alcohol poisoning.  A raging success.  I finally made it to the centre of Australia, Alice Springs.  My carefully crafted plan to get a bus out of there three days later was in tatters though – the two-day trip i’d booked to Uluru was overbooked.  Godammit!! All they could offer me was a three-day trip and a bus leaving a few days later.  At no extra cost.  Well, I am Scottish, so accepted their offer with good grace and had an amazing three days camping in the bush beneath the Milky Way, under the shadow of Uluru, surviving mainly on freshly baked damper and tinnies from the cool box.  Bonza.

The night before the Oz Bus was due to leave, I headed to the pub (just for a change of scenery) for a few drinks.  When I got there, I remember seeing this girl right over the other side, clutching a drink in both hands, dancing on the table and having a great time.  Falling off the table posed no threat to her enjoyment, and after being helped back up by a couple of strapping young lads, the merriment continued.  This girl was the life and soul of the place, and the rest of us seemed pretty sedate in comparison.  I do remember thinking she seemed a bit OTT and I may even have rolled my eyes a few times.

Cue the next day, and a few of us pile onto a mini-bus, heading south to Melbourne via Adelaide, and a few other stops along the way.  Who should get on the bus but the table dancer, not looking too much the worse for wear, considering.  I guess you could say that whole trip, but specifically that time and the people I met on that bus constituted a bit of a turning point in my life, even if I didn’t know it at the time.  Of all the people I met during the rest of my three months away, that dancing girl and two others became fast friends that I’m privileged to say have been a part of my life ever since.  We had a lot of fun times on that trip, and I’ve spent the last couple of weeks looking at old photos, laughing at all the stories I wrote in my travel journals, and reminiscing fondly about the past.  We were just four girls, venturing out into a huge, scary, exciting world to find adventure, and learn a little bit more about ourselves.  Unexpectedly, we found friendships to last a lifetime.   I’m an atheist through and through, but I do think it was fate that my trip was overbooked and I was forced to get a later bus out of there; if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have these women in my life now.  Tragically, that beautiful dancing girl isn’t with us anymore, a fact that only now is hitting home.  It’s been a pretty hellish couple of weeks, truth be told.  I can’t even begin to imagine what her family are going through.  I started this post with a thought that I’d tell you about some of the crazy nights we had back then, and since, the hopes and dreams shared, the laughs and tears that life brings, but the detail isn’t really important, and quite frankly I’m not articulate enough to adequately express what it all means to me.

This year has been one of the best I’ve had for years.  Not because those previous have failed to provide joy, challenges or opportunities, such as any good year of life has to offer, but because somehow it does feel like this year, more than any other, has brought with it a feeling of moving from the old into the new.  I wouldn’t change a single circumstance of my past, good or bad, because the sum of all those experiences have brought me here.  I wouldn’t dare change any of it, given such a chance, because who knows what I would lose? Not a risk worth taking.  Now though, it feels as though it’s time to give myself the future I’ve always talked about going for, but never really risked achieving.  Today I found a card my friend wrote me after she’d moved back to Australia, after that initial trip, as she was starting her new life on the other side of the world.  It held such promise and excitement.  I’m so happy she got to live out her dream, and boy did she make the most of it.

In that spirit I raise a glass to my dear friend, to love and friendship, and to new beginnings.

I started writing this post a few days ago, but I’ve chopped and changed it a few times before ending up where we are now.  Suffice it to say the delete button has been working overtime. This year has felt like it has been building up to one big turning point – reaching the big 4-0 – but events in the last couple of weeks have brought this turn of phrase into sharper focus.  An old friend of mine lost their life nearly two weeks ago, in a tragic accident.  It was such a shock, I still can’t actually comprehend that it has happened.  There is so much I want to say, and so much I started writing down, just to kind of get it out my head, but at the moment it doesn’t seem right to talk about this in an open forum (even if only about 5 people read this!), and to be honest it’s still too upsetting.  Anyone that knows me knows how much I advocate talking about stuff when it gets to you; personally I don’t know of a better way than dealing with the traumas and stresses life throws at you.  Thankfully for me, I’m lucky enough to have amazing friends to talk to in times like this, and I’ve been chewing a couple of friend’s ears off this week. I’ve also been reminiscing with two other very close mutual friends about happier times we all spent together when we met many years ago.  So as much as there are so many things I want to say, I can’t.  Maybe I’ll write a ‘Turning Points Part 2″ at a later date.  Right now though, all I can think about is how short and fleeting life is, so one of the reasons I decided to mention any of this at all, is because of where it’s led me today, and my decision to take some positive action.

When I started this blog it was because I wanted to make myself accountable for making changes in my life, in terms of weight loss and fitness goals.  I thought writing it all up here would mean that I would automatically just do everything I set out to do, because other people would get on at me if I didn’t.  These random posts I write do that to a certain extent, and keep me on the straight and narrow.  Kind of, ish.  At least, I end up walking a straighter line that I would otherwise have travelled.  The reality of it though is that I’ve become quite good at kidding myself that my nutrition is better than it really is.  In some respects I’ve made a lot of changes to my diet that I’m benefitting from, but on the other hand, I’m really in denial about how much crap I still eat.  Especially now that I’m consistently getting to the gym, and seeing some progress on that front.  For quite a long time I’ve wondered if I should bite the bullet and work with a nutritionist to get the help and support I need.  I’ve always been hard on myself though, and held the belief that surely I should just be able to get on with it myself and get it sorted?  I don’t need any help!  Well, in reality, I do. All I’ve been able to think about for the past 2 weeks is my beautiful friend, the zest for life that she had, and her ability to go out and get what she wanted from life.  If there was something she wanted to do, she went for it, and as a result she had achieved so much for herself in the last few years.  So what better positive action to take than go for what I want myself.  I need help to make sure I’m properly fuelling my training, managing stress and building a healthy, sustainable relationship with food.  I’ve initially signed up for a three-month plan with a local nutritionist, and the best thing is that the nutritional strategies are geared towards women who lift weights, which is exactly what I’m after.  I could have waited until after my upcoming holiday or my birthday, but I always find a reason to start tomorrow, and let’s be honest, tomorrow never comes.  Better to live for today and make the most of it.  I’m pretty scared about starting this journey, but optimistic and excited too.  I know all the hard work still lies with me – I’m the only person that can action the advice and strategies I’ll be given – but this feels like the missing piece of the puzzle.  This year has been pretty amazing all-in-all.  I feel better about myself than I ever have, so with this happier mindset, I can finally make some positive, lasting changes to my health.  I can’t wait to get started.

I’ll let you know how it goes 🙂

*the stuff that’s of no use.

I love my bed.  It’s always a joy to get in it, but never so easy to leave.  One of my aims this year was to get more sleep, as I realised I was consistently getting less that 6.5 hours sleep a night, and quite frankly, that just ain’t enough.  I’m doing pretty well on that front, though of course sleeping in the last couple of Saturday’s has meant my Parkrun attendance has been poor.  Or should I say non-existent.  I really love Southsea Parkrun.  Lovely people, great venue; you can’t beat it.  My aim this year was to run 10 Parkruns before the end of the year, and I’ll definitely do that. Just so long as I can actually get up.  I decided not to set my alarm today, and thought if I wake up in time I’ll go – I woke up at 9:55am.  Oh well.  Must have needed the sleep (I promise to set my alarm next week though!).

However, I did get up and get to the gym, for my third (of four) sessions this week.  Tomorrow is the last sesh of the week before I start it all again on Monday with a PT sesh.  Clumping three sessions in a row isn’t the best in terms of planning but needs must when a busy life gets in the way.  Getting myself to the gym these days is a lot easier than it used to be.  I really love it.  Some sessions are tougher than others, and cause me to tell my PT in no uncertain terms that I really hate him (he ignores me), but actually I do love it.  I’m noticing too that I can take a lot more of it that I used to be able to .  Four sessions a week would have been the death of me in the past (or at least caused my lower back to melt), but as the weeks go by i’m feeling stronger.  I can see more muscle definition in my arms and legs, and my back muscles definitely feel more solid.  I can even feel various stomach muscles at times, even if I can’t yet see them.

So right now, what I’m most interested in is performance.  I’ve managed to get to 85Kg for a deadlift (most I’ve ever lifted), just for 2-rep max at the mo, but that’s okay.  I can fairly comfortably back squat 60Kg now, and having never back-squatted in my life before, I’m really happy with that.  Slow but surely I’m making progress, in upper and lower body stuff.  After that 10K last weekend, my legs were absolutely fine, and I can attribute that to the gym work.  I need more sleep now, but that’s fine.  The washing machine is always on the go it seems, but that’s fine too.

In the last few weeks I can honestly say I’ve felt more comfortable with myself that I ever have.  So this has led me to give up some stuff:

• giving a shit what other people think.  I gave that up a while ago, but always worth mentioning as it’s important.
• scales.  I’ve decided to chuck out my scales, as they make me too obsessive.  I weigh myself too often, and if I lose weight it’s like a reason to celebrate (i.e. cake).  Bad idea.  I don’t actually care what I weigh anymore.  If I stick to the programme and put the effort in to clean up my diet more, the fat will go.  So the scales are now in the bin.  Also, my PT will weight me every 6 weeks and takes measurements, so I’d rather see the tape measure go in.
• Tracking my food.  I’ve become obsessed with making sure I track everything in My Fitness Pal, and daren’t miss a day so as not to lose my tracking streak.  Except this has become more about the streak that what I’m actually eating, so as of tomorrow, I don’t care if I miss a day.  I’ll track when I feel I’m letting bad habits creep in, or to check I’m eating enough, but actually tracking is not helping me shed fat so it can go.
• pyjamas.  I’ve recently become acquainted with the joys of sleeping naked (thankfully for my neighbours I have curtains).  Sleep is much improved.  I used to always be so body-conscious that i’d prefer to sleep clothed; how utterly bonkers is that?!  Screw that for a laugh.  It’s cosier sleeping with nothing on too, crazy!
• worrying about being 40.  I have to say – roll on 40, I’m really looking forward to it now.  I’m actually glad I’m not turning 30.  Forties are going to be good 🙂

…and that’s it really.  Happy days.

🙂

–

A race report!! Will wonders ever cease?  Possibly not.  Well, this is my first race report of the year, although technically it should be the third.  However, being the lazy bee-atch that I am, I *may* have not bothered to actually run the other two 10k races I had signed up for.  I had no choice but to complete this one though, since I’d made my pals from work sign up too (again), and I couldn’t let them down by not running when I’d forced them into signing up (as I did in February.  Sorry!).  So is it fair to say that since I knew I would be doing this race, come hell or high water (always a possibility at a seaside race), that I was adequately prepared?  Eh, no.  Not exactly.  Quite the opposite in fact.  I’ve completed 4 Parkruns this year (two of which were in June) and one 4 mile run last weekend.  That’s it.  I knew today would hurt.

Anyway, the race in question was the Portsmouth 10K, which started at the RNLI Lifeboat station in Portsmouth, headed west along the Southsea promenade, round the castle then back.  Happily the weather came out to play and it was a beautiful day.  Some may say (not me, obviously) a little bit too nice.  It did feel rather scorchio, and the ever familiar breeze (or gale-force wind when you’re running into it) along the front was conspicuous by its absence.  The race set-up was really good – instructions emailed out a couple of times, along with start number nearer the time, and it took about 2 mins to pick the number up.  Starting at the same time as the 10K was the ‘Pieces of Eight’ 8 miler, and lots of people made a great effort to dress up as pirates.  Clearly I should have been doing this, as a member of the Pirates (virtual triathlon club for the unaware), so I might need to go for this race next year.

The race itself was really well-managed, marshals at key bits to ensure we went the right way (i.e. to get us from the start to the promenade, without being mowed down by traffic), and lots of cheering.  Southsea esplanade is such a lovely place, it’s always a joy to run (shuffle) along it, and especially when the sun is shining.  The only odd thing was running the opposite way to the local Parkrun, yet along a lot of the same route.  It was hard to get a feel for how far along we were.  There were lots of km markers for the 10K, and mile markers for the 8 miler, but of course I would have sworn they were all wrong because surely I must have already run 17 miles, that’s what my legs are telling me?!  Being so woefully unprepared for this run (technical term), I decided to stick to a run/walk plan of 6/1, and I stuck to it rigidly, and it worked.  I was a bit slower on the return leg, as my right hip started to tighten up, as it always does, but knowing the short walk breaks were coming made it easier to plod on.  Also, having the Pieces of 8 race at the same time meant those runners would run past on the way back, so that was quite nice, because it didn’t feel as if I was out there on my own.  I was convinced I would be last, but there were a few folk behind me which was a novelty.  Eventually I reached the finish, and lots of people were still around cheering the last of us in which was lovely.  Gun time (as per my watch) was about 1:22, so a PW by about 14 mins, but actually I’m happy to have finished it, since I’ve been doing virtually NO running this year.  I reckon I could have pushed myself to run a bit faster too, so I will do that in the future.  I’ve got another 10K in December, and I VOW not to rock up to that with so little running in my legs.  Promise!

Now, it must surely be time for cake?!

🙂

This week felt like a big training week.  That’s probably because it was, for me at least.  Certainly the most I’ve done in one week for as long as I can remember.  Monday started with my weekly PT sesh, then on Tuesday I went back to the gym on my own to do the first of three other sessions my trainer had planned in for me.  The gym I’ve joined now is a real man’s gym,  a bit spit-and-sawdust and full of blokes with biceps bigger than my thighs (which is some feat, let me tell you).  The advantage of this is that I can totally play up to the ‘help me I’m a woman!’ stereotype, which normally I’d abhor, but I decided to use it to my advantage.  It started when I wanted to use a box for something but so did another guy so he offered to get me a bench instead, so I let him. Then when I’d finished I was about to move the bench as I was finished but a different guy wanted to use the spot I was vacating, so he moved the bench for me.  Then I managed to ask a third bloke to lift a bar that had weights on, that I’d been using to squat, down to the floor, since I couldn’t do the manoeuvre with the bar weighted, and frankly couldn’t be assed to unload it to then reload it 2s later.  The man obliged, to which I was grateful.  I’ll never pass for a weak helpless woman, but I’m all for making men feel useful when it suits 😉

So I survived that session, and the second one on Friday (I was away with work in-between), and after a 4 mile run yesterday (which felt tough), I completed the final session today.  Jezzo it was a total bastard of a session!  Primarily it was a deadlift sesh, and I do love deadlifts.  I’m not really sure why, but I guess when you have strong thighs, you might as well use them to your advantage.  Todays session involved three different types of deadlifts, two different types of squats and a couple of other leg exercises thrown in for evil measure.  In total there were 81 reps of deadlifts alone.  Hence the title, I’m truly knackered now.  Despite that, I’m also feeling pretty happy because I managed to up my deadlift PB to 70Kg which is good.  Not for 81 reps I hasten to add (just 8).  On the back of a heavy week I’m really pleased with that.

Next week I’ll struggle to do 4 sessions as I’m away half the week with work (with no gym access), and I have to run a 10K on Sunday (the less said about that the better), but I’ll get 3 sessions in.  Despite the fact I feel pretty fatigued, I don’t feel as totally bolloxed as I did when I was doing triathlon training, and was fitting in as many sessions.  Weights suit me better, and I can definitely feel they’re having a positive impact.  I’m getting stronger, my body measurements are decreasing a bit (except my thighs, haha!), I’m sleeping better (and needing more of it), and generally I just feel a whole lot better than I have for a long time.  Weight is coming off slowly, but I’m not even focusing on that so much any more, I’m more interested in performance.  Even my glutes feel a bit tighter which is good, and had I realised there was a security camera in the gym, I probably wouldn’t have spent 15s grabbing my ass it to see if it felt like it was changing, thinking no-one could see.  Ah well!

I’ll leave you with that delightful image now, as I need to go and mainline a steak.

Happy Sunday peeps 🙂

Pea

I love going to art galleries.  When I lived in Edinburgh I went a fair amount, I even had a membership card so I could go into the special exhibitions for free, and of course being a canny Scotswoman, I definitely got my monies worth.  I love standing back and admiring a work from afar, gradually working my way closer to the exhibit, focussing in on the detail and drinking in every brush stoke, in the hope that when I leave, I can recreate the picture in my mind, and allow myself to see it in all its glory anytime I want, just by closing my eyes.  Then I look over at the little card on the wall, next to the painting, keen to find out what magnificent title the artist has bestowed upon this beautiful work of art.

Untitled.

Seriously?  Are you shitting me?!  You spent years of your life pouring your blood, sweat and tears into this creative magnificence, yet you couldn’t be arsed to come up with a name?? RAGING.

Well, this blog is no work of art, and there is scant evidence of any such creative genius amongst the hastily typed words, but tbh I couldn’t think of a title for this either, so Untitled it is. Sorry about that.  Oh and actually this whole precis to the post is utterly irrelevant too. Well, pretty much.

To try to back pedal somewhat, I did actually try to come up with a name for this post, but right now the proper words are eluding me (I’m not selling this post, am I?).  My single-figured readers are no doubt highly aware that I’ve spent the majority of this year so far obsessing about my impending birthday, and I’ll be honest, I’m still somewhat obsessed.  However, the obsession has changed somewhat from fearing the future and what it holds, because I’m constantly looking over my shoulder to the past, and seeing all the gaps in my life where ‘major life events’ should be (hint: owning a home, marriage, children, yadda yadda yadda), to looking forward and feeling, well, happy.

I got rid of my TV in July, so I’ve been without one for just over 2 months.  I can honestly say I’ve not missed it in the slightest.  My plans for coming home from work to read for hours on end have somewhat been diminished by the inordinate amount of time I spend just generally titting about online, but on the whole, being TV-free has been a positive in my life.  I definitely just sit more and think about life, i.e. stare at the walls and over think stuff, not always in a bad way though.  I’m the kind of person that will stew over things for a while, gently mulling things over until I get to a point I can’t take it anymore and tend to make a snap decision about something I’ve swithered about for months.  Having all this extra thinking time has helped me sort through a lot of the general crap that just floats about my head, and has made me think of the whole turning 40 thing in sharp definition.

When you approach these life-defining moments, I think surely you can’t help put look at the past and wonder ‘what if….’ or ‘if only…’?  I can’t be the only one that thinks this, right?  I sometimes wonder if all my coupled up/married friends never have these thoughts because of course from the outside when you see people living a life you think you’ve missed out on, it’s easy to assume that everything is hunky dory and happiness abounds, and ergo, this is something I’m missing out on by not having.  I know life isn’t that simple though.  So all this extra time not staring at the pish on TV has led me to mull all this over, and actually realise just how settled and happy I am.  I may not own a house, but I have a lovely, bright and sunny flat to call home, and no stress if the boiler tanks because someone else can sort that for me.  I have a really good job with a tiny commute and I’m happy to go there everyday.  I’m loving the gym work I’m doing, I’m lucky to have found a brilliant PT who knows his stuff, and I’m finally making progress that I feel has eluded me for a long time.  I have amazing friends & family in my life that I’ll never cease being grateful for, and this year I’ve been very fortunate to have had lots of opportunities to catch up with many of them, and this has made me very happy.  Possibly for me though, the biggest achievement is that possibly for the first time in my life I feel really happy with myself.  I can honestly say I’ve never felt like that before.  It’s daft I know, but that’s just how it is.  It isn’t that I suddenly think I’m perfect (ha!), rather that I’m fine with being imperfect.  I’m overweight and that’s okay because being able to accept that means I can actually change it, for the right reasons.  I don’t need anyone’s approval anymore.  I would always say I didn’t care what people thought of me but that was utter bullshit, wrapped in a lot of denial.  Now I can say I don’t care and mean it.  It isn’t that I don’t care about people, but just that I don’t need anyone to think nice things about me in order for me to recognise that I’m nice.  I read a great quote by Wayne Dyer recently that I’ve been thinking of a lot:

What other people think of me is none of my business 

This just really resonated with me.  Everyone in the world could tell you that you’re fabulous, but if you don’t think it yourself, you’ll never believe them. So why does it matter what anyone else thinks?  It doesn’t.  I already know I’m fabulous 😀  If other people don’t like me that’s fine, the world is a big place, and I don’t like everyone, so why should they all like me?  I feel more comfortable in my own skin than I have in any of the last 39 (and a bit) years, so is turning 40 a big deal now?  No.  Actually I wouldn’t want to be younger.  It’s taken me longer than it perhaps should to get to this place, but who cares.  That’s the past.  The present is good, and the future is full of possibilities and adventures, if that’s what I want.  I can take whichever path I want, and that excites me.  So roll on 40. Well, roll slowly.  We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves here….

Have a great weekend folks.