I feel as if I aught to explain myself a little, especially if you have wandered across this blog by mistake (which I assume you have, since I am not publicising it), and are wondering what on earth the tag-line is talking about. Well, there are two main things that you really need to know about this blog:
1. I am writing it entirely for myself.
2. I am really, really unfit.
Let me put 'unfit' into perspective here:
It's not about my weight (although weight is certainly part of what's going on, since my BMI is over 50)- it's about health. Health is relative, of course, and I- like many people- have a small list of medical conditions that will never go away. A few years ago I suffered from a blood clot in my brain, which, by some incredible miracle, did not kill me or leave me with any brain damage, although I had to spend a year taking blood thinners and having scans to make sure that it had buggered off. I also have mental health issues in the form of depression, which is currently well-controlled thanks to my awesome doctors (who actually listened to my concerns, rather than brushing them off). I suffer from anxiety (although whether that's an actual mental issue or just the product of my environment, I honestly couldn't say. I do have a very stressful job, which sadly I can't discuss here due to confidentially issues, although I can say that it is in the NHS.)
Oh, and this year -on a Christmas Day night shift, no less- I was diagnosed with chronic high blood pressure. And by chronic, I really do mean it: if the average blood pressure is around 120/80, mine was hammering away at a staggering 212/120. If one of my co-workers hadn't been teasing me about looking hot and sweaty, and convinced me to check my blood pressure as a joke, then I could have keeled over and had a stroke at any moment.
So, that all sounds pretty bad, I'm sure, and probably not the kind of history that you would expect to hear from a prospective marathon runner. But it's not all bad: I routinely work 12 hour shifts on my feet, and do so 3-4 times a week as part of my job. I have very low cholesterol levels, and despite being regularly tested, I have never developed diabetes. In fact, up until Christmas, I even had good blood pressure, meaning that I did not suffer from any of the conditions that one might expect to see associated with my BMI.... but while that is certainly a good thing, I cannot afford to be complacent.
I could have died at Christmas. I could have had a stoke, and died.
That is a very sobering thought. It's very easy to carry on with life and never think about what comes after it, but this Christmas I was given a very stark insight into what the future (or lack of one) could hold for me, and frankly, I didn't like the look of it. I don't want to die. So, I decided that I need to do something to help my body avoid that for as long as possible. And what can I do? Well- getting into shape was the most obvious choice (yes, and losing weight...), but it's a daunting task. I can walk along flat surfaces for hours, as proved by my job, and I can sprint 30feet to answer an emergency call bell without collapsing- but that's not the same as being physically fit. I get breathless climbing stairs. I don't *like* walking, because my enormous weight makes it very hard work. But that's one of the reasons why I have allowed myself to get into this state: hard work is very off-putting, especially when you already have a stressful job that is also, quite literally, 'hard work.'
So, how does one who is naturally inclined to not face stress head on if at all possible, deal with the stress of potential death if I cannot change the habits of a lifetime?
Simple: do something that you find hilarious.
You know what's hilarious? Runners being chased by dinosaurs.
Marathon runners, being chased by me- dressed as a dinosaur.
This is my goal:
I will find the perfect dinosaur costume.
I will find a way to fit into it.
I will haul my giant arse out of the house and get fit enough to run in it.
And I will chase those goddamn marathon runners all the way to finish line.
1. I am writing it entirely for myself.
2. I am really, really unfit.
Let me put 'unfit' into perspective here:
It's not about my weight (although weight is certainly part of what's going on, since my BMI is over 50)- it's about health. Health is relative, of course, and I- like many people- have a small list of medical conditions that will never go away. A few years ago I suffered from a blood clot in my brain, which, by some incredible miracle, did not kill me or leave me with any brain damage, although I had to spend a year taking blood thinners and having scans to make sure that it had buggered off. I also have mental health issues in the form of depression, which is currently well-controlled thanks to my awesome doctors (who actually listened to my concerns, rather than brushing them off). I suffer from anxiety (although whether that's an actual mental issue or just the product of my environment, I honestly couldn't say. I do have a very stressful job, which sadly I can't discuss here due to confidentially issues, although I can say that it is in the NHS.)
Oh, and this year -on a Christmas Day night shift, no less- I was diagnosed with chronic high blood pressure. And by chronic, I really do mean it: if the average blood pressure is around 120/80, mine was hammering away at a staggering 212/120. If one of my co-workers hadn't been teasing me about looking hot and sweaty, and convinced me to check my blood pressure as a joke, then I could have keeled over and had a stroke at any moment.
So, that all sounds pretty bad, I'm sure, and probably not the kind of history that you would expect to hear from a prospective marathon runner. But it's not all bad: I routinely work 12 hour shifts on my feet, and do so 3-4 times a week as part of my job. I have very low cholesterol levels, and despite being regularly tested, I have never developed diabetes. In fact, up until Christmas, I even had good blood pressure, meaning that I did not suffer from any of the conditions that one might expect to see associated with my BMI.... but while that is certainly a good thing, I cannot afford to be complacent.
I could have died at Christmas. I could have had a stoke, and died.
That is a very sobering thought. It's very easy to carry on with life and never think about what comes after it, but this Christmas I was given a very stark insight into what the future (or lack of one) could hold for me, and frankly, I didn't like the look of it. I don't want to die. So, I decided that I need to do something to help my body avoid that for as long as possible. And what can I do? Well- getting into shape was the most obvious choice (yes, and losing weight...), but it's a daunting task. I can walk along flat surfaces for hours, as proved by my job, and I can sprint 30feet to answer an emergency call bell without collapsing- but that's not the same as being physically fit. I get breathless climbing stairs. I don't *like* walking, because my enormous weight makes it very hard work. But that's one of the reasons why I have allowed myself to get into this state: hard work is very off-putting, especially when you already have a stressful job that is also, quite literally, 'hard work.'
So, how does one who is naturally inclined to not face stress head on if at all possible, deal with the stress of potential death if I cannot change the habits of a lifetime?
Simple: do something that you find hilarious.
You know what's hilarious? Runners being chased by dinosaurs.
Marathon runners, being chased by me- dressed as a dinosaur.
This is my goal:
I will find the perfect dinosaur costume.
I will find a way to fit into it.
I will haul my giant arse out of the house and get fit enough to run in it.
And I will chase those goddamn marathon runners all the way to finish line.
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