A Dry Run

It has been a very busy week playing catch-up and working my butt off - lots of training. Inspired by the London Marathon I felt the need to go out there and do something! I decided on a  long walk or a mini-trek to get a feel for all the kit I have recently purchased. Since spring has finally decided to make an appearance, what better place to go than the Chilterns?

The Chiltern Hills are in the Southeast of England and stretch from the Thames in Oxfordshire to the ancient woodlands of Hitchin in Hertfordshire, and it is said to be home to some of the finest countryside in the United Kingdom.  The area is nationally protected with a variety of walks throughout: http://www.visitchilterns.co.uk/  We opted for the Ridgeway walk, after stopping off at an old steam train station for cream teas.

Pace Maker

The walk was amazing with fantastic views of the countryside. Bionic woman rushed off, leaving me and Mimi (bionic woman’s teenage daughter) to plod along, which suited us all fine! It really was a glorious day, so glorious that 90% of the southeast had the same idea as us, or so it seemed, and all ascended or  descended on the Chilterns. Bearing in mind that there are some 324 square miles of fantastic countryside, we somehow all seemed to have picked the same mile.

Each to His Own

So there we were, slogging it out with man, cyclist and beast for a piece of the countryside; it was like Christmas Eve on Oxford Street! I should have felt right at home, however the worst that can happen on Oxford street is you get mowed down by a group extra-zealous bargain hunters, or at worse a gang of chuggers*, which is nothing compared to being kicked by a galloping horse or sent flying by speeding cyclists in very tight Lycra.

Ascot anyone?

 

Tight squeeze

Thank God no such collisions occurred, with the reason being that there was a strict code of conduct at play: the horses took priority for obvious reasons, then people, and then bikes. It worked a treat and everyone was friendly and appreciated the need for cooperation; everyone you we met on the walk said hello and they were more than happy to point us in the right direction when we missed our trail. We ended up doing a 5 mile walk in 3 hours, factoring in lots of cosy chats and a break for a sandwich. 

Outcome

Despite all my training (DAILY), I was still a little out of breath during the ascents. I also found out that I got dehydrated very quickly, and my walking clothes were way too hot and I ended up stripping down to my vest. One would hope that the weather in the Andes is significantly better than it has been in the UK. If I’m hot over here I imagine I’ll be as hot as the hinges of hell out there; I need to rethink my wardrobe!



Tending to my flock



Training

I am constantly aching, but not in a bad way. If I’m honest the aches are a constant reminder of what I need to achieve. I now workout 6 out of 7 days per week, and alternate my routine so my body never gets used to the pace and keeps working harder. I have put on half a kilo and am now able to increase my weights. Ill be working out at night as Barry is home next week and I don’t want to miss out on any family time.

STILL NO MRS. CARTER TICKETS Has anyone brought tickets off Ebay before ? was it a good or bad experience? I am so tempted to go down that path.

*In the UK paid street fundraisers have been nicknamed “chuggers”because usually their tactics of fundraising is viewed as aggressive or invasive (a portmanteau of "charity" and "mugger").

 

Superwoman

It is so sad watching Baroness Thatcher's funeral my mother always said if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. Politics aside, she operated in a male dominant world whilst retaining her feminine charms, with a handbag collection that is now legendary! She is a Great Britain!

 

Redemption

So, due to me being totally negligent of my health I managed to ruin Barry’s birthday. Despite me transporting the coolest cake ever to his school, it was still a flop (see previous posts). He is back for the holidays at the end of the month and I absolutely have to redeem myself! I know these are the actions of a guilty parent, but I can’t help myself.

Mrs. Carter

I have decided to surprise my little man with tickets to the hottest show in town:  Beyoncé’s forthcoming tour. Barry is a die-hard Beyoncé fan and can belt out most of her (and Lady Gaga’s) songs, and has the dance routines down to an art. I know what you are thinking! (Stop it he is my son!)  Now, these tickets were so hot they were cold! They sold out in the UK within 15 minutes and you would stand a better chance of discovering a new planet than bagging these tickets. However, I am determined to pick some up on the fan sites.

I am hoping to see Madame B at the O2 in London, which from experience if you can only get seats above the lower tier you may as well wait for the DVD. The O2 arena is huge. However, it is unlike other venues such as Old Trafford, Wembley and the Olympic Stadium, which are built in a way that there are no bad seats. The upper tier at the O2 is deadly, and really does comes with a health warning for those who suffer from vertigo and other height-related disabilities. I went to see the late, great Whitney Houston there and had “heavenly bound” seats, and it's not so much the view as it is the perception; the incline is so steep you feel like you are going to topple over at any moment. I upgraded my seats quick-time.

Extortionists

I spent the best part of yesterday and most of today trawling through eBay, seatwave, Ticketmaster and FanSnap in a desperate attempt to find some economically enhanced tickets. NO SUCH LUCK. I mean they are there if you are willing to pay more than 5 times the actual price!! But I have to draw the line somewhere; I mean, it’s not the money it’s the principal. How can anyone sell a ticket they brought for £50 for £ 250? And then these websites add on their handling fees of around 15% and it makes me wonder how they get away with it!

I have been lucky this year with thickets and managed to snag Michael Buble and Rihanna tickets at face value. I would love to go see the Rolling Stones but I’ll be trekking the Andes. My limit is £500 for 2 lower tier seats. If I shell out any more then I may as well take him to Disneyland Paris for a week!!!!  

Barry will go to the ball!

Training

Meanwhile, my training is going very well. I am now in the gym every day for an hour and I am beginning to see the difference. I do 30 minutes on the cross trainer and 30 minutes on free weights. *******NEWSFLASH****** Arms are the new tummies! Flat stomachs are for little girls, real women have arms to die for! I mean how often do grown women get away with wearing crop tops without looking skanky? Never, but we can flash or arms with impudence!  Bye bye baby bingo wings, hello lady guns!  I can’t wait for it to heat up so I can showcase my arms in a halter neck dress! It is such a shame I don’t have a pair of boobs to match :o/ .

Let's Get Physical

Personal Trainer

I am a strong believer that if a job is worth doing then it should be done properly! So, I have just re-joined this super-duper gym in town. Now, I did say I am not an exercise type person but it has never stopped me from joining the odd gym or two. I’ve been a member at David Lloyds, Esporta, Virgin Active, LA Fitness and Holmes Place (now that is a blast from the past!). But my current independent gym is the real deal; its light years ahead of the others I’ve been to, although I’m no expert. It’s clean, friendly, and everything is done by electronic key! So no fumbling for padlock and keys for lockers, or note pads and paper to note progress, and no more pressing buttons to set up equipment; it’s all done with your key, so NO EXCUSES!!!

I’ve “kind of” got a personal trainer for two reasons, other than just having one because “bionic woman” has one whom, I must say, she swears by. I need one because I have no idea what any of the equipment in the room does, and because I am competitive as hell. When left to my own devices I do things when I’m good and ready; having a 6’ 6” oiled Johnny Bravo-type beefcake standing over me barking can only be a push in the right direction!

So, I’m ready, hooked up with my state-of-the-art trainers I got whilst out in the States, and a slim-fitted work-out kit; I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and am surprised to see a sporty athlete staring back at me. What a fraud!  I get to the Gym and I kind of know my way around, and I meet up with my trainer and to be honest we were both a little surprised. The image of my imagined 6’ 6” beefcake vanished and was replaced by his leaner, shorter unoiled brother!  Judging by his expression he obviously expected to see a nervous, plus-size lady, this was confirmed when he said “Your application form says you never work out and collapse after a flight of stairs.” Knowing the show I was about to put on, I told him honestly that looks are very deceiving but thankfully he missed the double entendre.

So, I was asked to hit the treadmill at a comfortable pace for 10 minutes to warm up. I expertly walked over to the treadmill, set it to 3, and walked my butt off! After what seemed like ages (but was really only 3 minutes) in the machine began to beep and flash at me with a huge red heart pulsating in the corner, and the words in bold text, “HEART RATE TWO HIGH.” I looked over to my left just in time to see the guy two treads down from me smirk as he sprinted on like a gazelle. I simple took my hand of the pulse plates and took it all in stride (no pun intended) whilst my chest felt like it was going to explode!

Seven minutes in and “Johnny” comes over looking very dismayed at my lack of pace. Before he could say anything I told him that I’d speed up for the last few minutes, at which he seemed satisfied and stood back to watch my big finale. At this point, though, I had no juice in my engine to crawl those last 3 minutes, let alone sprint it. Buying for time I reached for my water bottle to take two long swigs and cranked it up to 5.5. I looked at Johnny, who didn’t seem impressed, so I pushed up one more time but unfortunately my hands were trembling so I accidentally double-tapped it to 7. Now he seemed satisfied. After 10 seconds in at this pace I was ready to call it a day. I couldn’t think of anything other than the pain in my sides and the burning in my chest, but then my friendly gazelle decided to speed up  and it was on!

Keeping his pace, I eventually felt comfortable enough to let go of the safety bar and pump my arms as he was doing. The pain was so excruciating I wished for death; it never came, and I refused to give up, pass out or pee myself (which I was at the point of doing, honestly). Then, suddenly, I could no longer feel the pain; it just vanished. All I could think of was my gazelle and the 90 seconds left on the timer. It was the longest 90 seconds I can ever remember, and then there were more beeps and I thought: Crumbs, what now? Are the charging the defibrillator ready to shock me back to life? Then, as if God had heard my cries, he answered, no doubt me being one of his favourites he chose not smite me as previously requested. He probably felt it was way too Old Testament for this swanky gym. No he merely slowed the machine down, and then I realised it was finally over. My ordeal/audition was finally over. I looked at Johnny, who seemed unenthused, and casually stepped off the treadmill. My legs felt like jelly. I then excused myself and headed to the ladies to be violently sick!

But at least I’d done it; at least I’d stayed on the treadmill for as long as I was supposed to.

From the southbank

Always the journey

The Case

Okay, so I am a thirty-something woman who has given a whole new meaning to the term “couch potato.” My idea of exercise is driving a manual car as opposed to my normal automatic. I wouldn’t say I am lazy, but I avoid strenuous activity at all cost. I have on occasion stood friends up because I got as far as their foyer, only to realise the lift was out of order!!! (She lived on the 22nd floor! Can you blame me?) I simply telephoned from the comfort of my car and advise them I would not be coming over.

I have even refused to stay in some lovely hotels simply because they had no lifts, which on reflection was a shame because I love historic buildings. I just love the ones with lifts more!

Most of my friends understand my total aversion to any sort of excise, which is odd because my closest friend and travel companion is a gym extremist! (I call her the bionic woman.) Honestly, I don’t know how she puts up with me. Actually, now that I think about it, I do: we compromise. She hits the gym while I hit the buffet hall. Its as simple as that! On one of our golfing holidays I was mortified to find the buffet had closed before I had eaten, and almost refused to tee off that day! Being the love that she is, she smuggled out a packed lunch for me before she swam 20 lengths of the Olympic sized pool!!!

My Defence

Fortunately for me I am one of those people who is naturally slim, though I have learnt very quickly that thin does not equate to fit! Slim and fit are two totally different things! I love food. I love good food, which is a blessing and a curse - it’s a curse because when I find a fabulous restaurant (such as AQUA, Welwyn) I do it to death (5 times a week!)  - but if there is no good food or good company I'll eat what I must to survive, which happens to be very little.

Previously, my hair was a huge obstacle to doing anything remotely physical as it took so long to whip it into shape. I'd be dammed to have it sweat out for any reason. This is no longer an issue since, as of November, I have liberated myself from my hair after being shown the light from my special friend ‘Tart.’ Tart couldn’t understand why I'd force my hair into doing something it doesn’t do naturally, or why I'd want to look like something I wasn’t; then the penny dropped and I cancelled my fortnightly trip to the salon @ £95 a pop plus 5 precious hours of my life.

My favourite pastime is reading; I read on average 6 to 8 books each month, most on audio as I have such a long commute into work, I tend to visit some of the places, and try the food, explore the culture, featured many of the books I read. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Gulliver, but I do have a very curious mind. Most recently, bionic woman recommended I read a book titled “A Book of Human Skin” and it was amazing. We decided our next holiday should be to Peru to do the Inca trail, which I agreed to before I realised it was 24k trek through the Andes through some very tricky terrain! Still, my word is my bond and a promise is a promise! 

The ruling

After doing the research I learned that the trek is considered “moderate to strenuous” with a minimum of 6  hours hiking per day over the course of 4 days. The guides say you should be able to climb a minimum of 2000 stairs and fast-walk 10 kilometres as a benchmark, but then you must make allowances for the altitude! I AM DOOMED. I can’t manage 5% of this basic level of fitness. Its time for change! 

With all this extra time on my hands, and all this extra money from allowing my hair to grow feral, I decided to visit this place they call “the gym” and begin my training.

I'm 4 weeks into my journey and decided to do something else I've been meaning to do for years: BLOG.



Its a Sign!