I fear that the Scales of Doom and I will never be friends. How can an inanimate object give such grief and angst – how can it be so malevolent? Yes, we had an encounter this morning. I can say, hand on heart, that I busted a gut this week. Or rather I can’t say that because I actually only lost 1.5lbs. Now look people, I’m not doing this for the good of my health you know. No, really, I’m not. It’s all about the aesthetics for me. If that makes me as shallow as a puddle, so be it – I can live with that as long as I live slimly. I want to wear jeans and dresses without feeling awful and looking worse. Is that too much to ask? I mean, SoD, really?!
It didn’t make me very fleet of foot trudging round Week 2, Run 3 this morning either. I really don’t like running. With cycling, even if I don’t lose the weight, I feel like I’ve achieved something (like getting into work for free and not wedged into someone’s armpit), with running, if I’m not dropping the ballast, I’m not feeling the love. Humph. I’ll try to finish the nine weeks but if I’m not a size 10 by then, running and I are THROUGH, man. I’m joking of course. But only about the size 10 bit!
Can I manage to up the exercise for next week? I feel tired just thinking about it. Could I manage 3 runs and 3 cycles? And we’re doing some walking on Sunday. Well, I think I’ll give it a go. SoD – it’s war.