Thursday, 10 September 2009


... falling ... off.

Every week I swear I'm finding excuses to not go to the gym, and then feel hideously guilty afterwards. But guilt doesnt seem to be the great motivating factor that it has been - not before I'm due to do some exercise anyway.

This week I couldn't do anything on Tuesday, as we were interviewing potential housemates. Wednesday I came home feeling like rubbish, convinced I was coming down with the flu, with aching limbs, and thinking I wouldn't get to work on the Thursday. Um... today I guess.

So I ruled out the gym, maybe a bit too easily.

Finally, tonight, with a decent wind blowing and rain coming down, I felt obliged to go for a run. It was bloody cold but I had to give my calf a test. I ran for about ten minutes before it tightened up - at which point I stopped immediately.

So a brisk walk for a few minutes and then a jog home after that which went OK.

I can't say that was a lot of exercise really. And so it was a bit of a shock to find out that I was down a bit to 88.5kg.

The depressing thing is that the only thing I can put the weight loss down to is not drinking too much last weekend. What does this mean?! Where could I be, but for my boozing??

I don't want to think about it.

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