I have ordered new batteries for my scales and I am shit-scared. We haven’t had a weigh-in for weeks if not months and the last time I was on the scales, I was a very skinny 138 lbs, only 5lbs off my target. I don’t know what I weigh right now but it is more than that, for sure. Most definitely. Since my batteries failed we’ve had Xmas and at least two if not five cases of attempted carbicide and there were several weeks of no exercise, thanks to work and travel. So I am scared. The imminent arrival of the batteries is certainly helping to focus my mind on the gym and healthy eating now.
Today’s achievements: went on the treadmill and vigorously climbed a steep hill for an hour while listening to some disco. I forget what the estimated calorie expenditure is for that but it’s got to be worth something. Then I swam 50 lengths. I only wanted to do 40 but I made myself do another 10 as punishment for interfering with the Honcho. There has long been a relationship between exercise and the Honcho, at first because I was in love and consequently could run for miles seemingly with no effort, and then later out of a sense of righting wrongs. I am absolutely determined that, if nothing else, one thing that is going to result out of that whole frustrating, long-winded, tired old mess is a nice body. In fact, better than nice. I am aiming for athletic. I would be very happy with that and call that a worthwhile outcome. I don’t want this to be a sad story. I want to be able to say ‘oh yeah, that guy. I remember. By the time we’d finished winding each other up, I was really fit’.
2 Health points.