Last week was an odd one for me, tough. Emotionally I was fine but I (once again) got sick. My clubs first hurling session of the year was last Sunday and I’ve decided to make a big commitment to it this year, and was there bright and early and busting to go. The problem was, it snowed heavily for days beforehand and it was absolutely freezing. My immune system, if you haven’t picked up on this yet, is pretty shitty. It is made worse by the medication I am taking at the minute so I don’t think a snow laden park in Belfast in negative temperatures was the best place for me to be. By the time I was done, despite being head to toe in under armour and layered to the teeth, I got sick. I can’t begin to describe how cold my feet were, they felt like one of those cartoon scenes where the protagonist’s feet are ice cubes. I couldn’t breath properly because I’m asthmatic and cold air is thin and it is hard to take a deep breath.
It started as a head cold the next day, I had to pull out of a planned kettle bell session (which I wasn’t really looking forward to if I’m honest) and got drugged up and hit my bed for two days. This did a grand total of fuck all, because I ended up with a chest infection. My old nemesis, the illness I am most familiar with and which normally leads to much worse situations, had returned to fuck with me. Antibiotics, pain killers, lemsips, the whole shebang. I have been absolutely fucked, just in agony all over. It was really bad timing. I had gotten back into the swing of exercising, was finding my feet again and I came crashing down again. The second medium term illness I had gotten within a month, one that would fuck with my appetite again. So for a few days I took to eating what I craved when I craved it. I didn’t eat a lot, I was mostly staying within my calorie goals but I was eating absolute shit. Takeaway, chippies and waaaay too much sugar. I haven’t been consuming sugar at all but I ate sweets, crisps and fizzy drinks. Physically, I didn’t put on any weight but by Saturday I was starting to feel that other old friend of mine self loathing. Self loathing and guilt for eating like a dickhead.
Thankfully the cravings for the sugar and shitty fat I was consuming last week haven’t stuck around. I’m still sick, but I’ve got back on the wagon today and mentally I feel ok. I feel ready to throw myself full titty into the routines I had set myself, in fact I’m ready to take them a lot more seriously. I retreated back into my old self for a few days and I didn’t enjoy being there again, it has made me realise that I really have turned a corner in my life and I’m really making these life style changes I’ve planned permanent. I’m really proud because it is the first time I’ve fallen off the wagon and been able to get straight back on. I’m proud because I’m able to see that, through this, my mental health is improving and the counselling seems to be working. Only a stone and a half to try and lose in the next two months. WEE BUNS!