So yesterday, the instrument of truth delivered its verdict. A 1Ib rise. That’s over two months. I was expecting a rise as in my heart of hearts I know I’ve taken my eye off the ball with the grub. I know it’s only a pound, but a pound here and a pound there leads back to where I came from.
Holidays and stuff is no excuse. But the biggest issue here is my thought process. It was all about the bike and lack of food discipline. Now (I hope ‘cos you can never tell) I’ve done a re-evaluation and done a bit of switch flicking in the old brain. Don’t worry I’m not panicking just yet!
The other thing is that I’ve taken the huge step of deciding to sell my car. We’ll still have a car as we’ll have wifey’s, but no car for me means I’ll be pedalling into work every day come what may. Any meetings I have to attend will be my company’s problem as to how I get there.
So that’s where I am at the moment. This is about weight loss, not fitness or pedalling, which is now relegated to a handy by-product.
I must mention yesterday’s pedal home, wet, windy, very wet and very windy in fact. Did I mention it was wet and windy? But perversely, quite enjoyable. I did have pity for a bloke on a GT MTB battling up the hill into Northfield. He was out of the saddle going nowhere fast. I reckon he was doing about 4mph the wind was that strong. But he was in normal day clothes and shoes, no hat, no waterproof gear not even gloves. He was saturated, as I went past him I said “alright mate” as is my usual greeting to a fellow cyclist, he responded with a mega pissed off “No I’m not, f***ing ‘orrible this…”