Moving right along

Okay, the swimming thing was a bit of a bust! I'm feeling better now, but not supposed to go in the pool for a couple of weeks.

So, on Sunday I bought a bike. I wasn't intending to buy a bike for the triathlon, thinking I could just borrow one for a couple of months. But one of the stores was having a receivership sale, so I picked up a good mountain bike for 2 hundy.

I haven't ridden it yet, as I haven't got a helmet. But I'll get one this week and go for my first ride this weekend. I have a friend who is training for the tri too, so we're going to ride around the South Coast and reward ourselves with a coffee at a beachside cafe afterwards.

Jogging, swimming, gym, riding - this weight loss journey has brought so many new things to my life, apart from just a change in eating habits.

Cryptosporidium

You just have to appreciate the perverse irony of it.

Jake swims in the pool, what, 200 times a year? Healthy as a horse.

I swim in the pool, what, once in five years? And I catch this nasty, pool-lurking bug. It turns my bowels to water and stops me eating solid food for three days.

See, I told you it was perversely ironic.

On Friday I posted a 1.6kg loss. I actually weighed 1kg less than that, but I figure that I was completely 'flushed out' (sorry) and probably a bit dehydrated, so I haven't claimed the whole loss. Next week will sort it all out.

By the way, for you Sydney gals - Cheer, Cheer, the Red and the White!

Swim update

Well, at least I didn't drown!

I managed to do 16 (25m) lengths. I did them as 4 sets of 4 - 1 length freestyle, 2 lengths breaststroke, 1 length backstroke. I stopped for a minute between each set, mostly to let the other two people in the slow lane overtake me!

My freestyle clearly needs work. Actually, mostly my breathing technique. I am definitely going to have some lessons.

You're right, Emily, Jake does swim, and could probably give me some pointers. But he swims because he is a waterpolo player (yes, as well as underwater hockey). And their training is seriously hard. They do things like 200m of hypoxic 5s - that's where you breathe every fifth stroke. I'm not going anywhere near a pool that boy is swimming in!

I have to say, I'm feeling pretty stuffed after the swimming. My back, in particular, is quite sore. I guess I've found another bunch of unused muscles!

Another note about my son the jock
Jake does play a lot of sports, but you have to examine the motivation behind some of them. For instance:
Underwater hockey - lots of fun, and lots of girls in bathing suits
Water polo - not so much fun, lots of girls in bathing suits, legalised thuggery
Lawn bowls - lots of girls, damn-all physical effort
Are we seeing a theme here?
Touch rugby - lots of girls watching while you run around in short shorts and a singlet - always stripping off the singlet when on the sideline to show off the hairy chest
Cricket - strictly social. They take a couch and a barbecue to their games
Golf - I really have no idea why anyone (except Michael Campbell) would play this sport
Dragon boating - this one is a real doozy - lots of girls in bathing suits, lots of girls watching while you strut and pose and pump up your muscles when paddling, ample opportunity to do the school haka in a fiercely competitive environment
Rugby - no explanation required. He's a Kiwi bloke

Time to take the plunge

I'm sorry, I just had to use that pun.

It's time for me to start swimming.

I am going for the first time tomorrow morning.

I have reached this decision for a number of reasons:
At some stage I rashly said I would start swimming when I was under 100kg;
I had a programme review with my trainer chap this morning. He tortured me and I don't feel like the gym tomorrow;
Just over 4 months till the triathlon - I'd better find out if I can remember how to swim and book some lessons;
I've got to do it some time!

So, this morning, I bought a swim cap. It's not a gorgeous one like M found.

But it is red, so I'll swim faster.

Double Digit Doris

I'm there! I'm there! I'm there!

I'm under 100kg. I'm a Double Digit Doris.

For the first time in around eight years, there are only two digits in front of the decimal point.

I've got a kind of Edmund Hillary-esque feeling - you know, the famous quote, "We knocked the bastard off".

In reality, of course, I'm still somewhere on the North Face. But the view from here is fantastic!

I shall pause briefly to enjoy my achievement, then continue my climb. The top of Everest doesn't feel so far away now.

Attitude adjustment

I need one!

Or, more specifically, I need to adjust my attitude towards bonus points.

I've always had this smug little 'I don't eat my bonus points' thing going. You can almost see me puffing out my chest and waggling my head when I say it!

Well, it needs to change. I get so much exercise now, I'm starving if I stick to my normal points. And then I lose my willpower.

The thing is, I love going to the gym. And I still need to, and like to, walk the dog. So, on days when I do both (which is about 4 days a week), I'm earning 10-13 bonus points!

From now on, when I earn more than 8 bonus points a day, I'm going to eat the extras. Sensibly. Not treats.

BLOKES!

M mentioned compliments from blokes the other day. Hers wasn't necessarily a nice experience, but it got me thinking about how difficult it is for some men to give compliments, particularly about weight loss.
I talked to a (male) friend of mine about this last night. He reckons men basically have two fears (which turn out to be the same) about telling a woman they look good because they've lost weight.
Those fears are:
1. If she hasn't lost weight, she thinks I think she's fat.
2. If she has lost weight, she'll know I used to notice she was fat.
Think about it girls, we sure can make it tough for them!
So, here are a few of my experiences with comments and compliments from men about my weight loss.

Rugby blokes
I am (of course) on the committee for our school rugby club. These blokes most often see me on the sideline on Saturdays, looking truly inelegant in jeans, multiple sweaters and a great big coat. I could grow breasts on my back and they wouldn't notice!
A couple of weeks back, we had our prizegiving. I went straight from work, so I was still dressed in my girl clothes. Our 1st XV coach actually didn't recognise me until I turned around and started talking to him! He then lavished me with praise and pointed out to everyone within earshot how great I looked.

Work blokes
I bumped into a couple of the guys from my industry in a coffee shop the other day. I don't see them often, maybe a couple of times a year. There was a tall counter between us, so they could only see me from about the armpits up.
I was chatting away, when I realised one of them hadn't quite worked out who I was. So I told him. And he said 'I thought it was, but you look really different. Have you changed your hair?'
'No,' I replied, 'I've lost 30 kilos.'
'Wow, that's cool, how have you done that?'
To which, of course, the only possible reply was...
'I chopped off both my tits!'

Home blokes
Sorry to be a bit rude, but this from my man the other night, when he was umm, well, shall we say 'measuring my cup size'?
'This will cost us a fortune in bras!'

Rugby blokes 2
We had a glorious day in Wellington yesterday, which coincided with the U15 final for rugby. So instead of the aforementioned swaddling clothes, I got to watch in jeans and a tee shirt. Quite a fitting tee shirt, instead of one that looks like a small pup tent.
The same coach, after the game, came up and said 'You look so great, I just have to hug you'. Which he did - then passed me around the rest of the committee and insisted they hug me too! (I've known these guys for a long time - it's not creepy)

Home blokes 2
The teenager came home saying several of his friends had commented on my weight loss (isn't that just lovely?). Knowing just how to gross him out, I asked if I was in danger of becoming a MILF (if you don't know what that is from American Pie, you have to watch the movie).
'If anyone says that, I'll beat them to a pulp, then choke myself to death on my own spit'
That's my boy!

Rugby blokes 3
And this email from the sport co-ordinator at school, who came to the tournament with me last week. He's about 6 foot 3 and like many ex-forwards, inclined to run to fat.
'Today is a new start for me. I'm running home from work every day. You have inspired me'
Aww, shucks.

Time to stop faffing around!

Okay, so I had a 1kg loss this week. I know that's a good loss. But it could have been more, if I hadn't been sneaking treats here and there.
So, it's time for me to do what lots of the blog-girls have done recently and get back to basics. Track, weigh, measure and calculate assiduously.
This is my time.

One neat thing I haven't told you about my trip to Auckland - I got to see Mum and Dad! They live in the Bay of Islands, so we don't catch up in person very often. Last time I saw them was when they came down to Wellington for my 40th in March - before I started Weight Watchers.
Anyway, on Sunday, they were on their way to England when we were on our way back to Wellington, so we had about a 45 minute crossover at the airport.
They had no idea I've been losing weight. I actually told them before I saw them, because I didn't want them freaking out and thinking I was sick! They were very impressed. Dad did point out there was no risk they wouldn't recognise me though - I was the one bossing 16 kids around!
The reason for their trip to England is lovely. They are both Kiwis, but they got married in London - 50 years ago. This is their golden anniversary trip; the first time they've been back since their wedding.
In December our whole family (believe me, there's a few of us) will be descending on Kerikeri for a party on their actual anniversary.
And while we're there, Mum is going to take me to her gym. Yep, my 71 year old Mum is a gym bunny! She started doing it this winter. Mum and Dad spend most of the summer living on their yacht, but Mum finds she loses her sailing fitness during the winter, and each year it is harder to get it back. So this year she's using the gym to overcome that.
I've got great parents.

What the hell is underwater hockey?

It's a game that looks like this:

There are six players and up to four subs per team. The players wear mask and snorkel, flippers and a padded glove. They use a short wooden stick to hit a puck that weighs 1.5kg. The game is played in a pool about 2 metres deep. A good breath-hold is a must!

It's a game that Jake loves playing - the perfect combination of athleticism and thuggery.

So last Thursday we flew to Auckland with 16 players (senior and junior teams) and 5 adults, for the NZ Secondary School Underwater Hockey Championship.

What followed was four days of cooking huge meals (4 dozen filled rolls for lunch each day, roast chicken for dinner etc). The apple crumble we had for dessert one night was the size of a small apartment building. On top of that, add driving to and from the pools countless times, celebrating their victories and commiserating over their losses, taping blisters and strained ankles and rubbing down aching calves.

Of course I bellowed myself hoarse at their games - I know they can't hear me under water, but it makes me feel better.

So, how did I cope with all that food? Pretty well, I think. I ate the same food as everyone else, just smaller portions. No planned exercise, but the days started around 6.30am with waking players for early games and finished around 11pm, so I think I got my share of activity.

The scales will tell the tale at the end of the week...

*waves madly, blows kisses*

It's okay, folks, I'm still here!
Outrageously busy last week, and then four days in Auckland with the underwater hockey tournament and no coverage for the mobile data card on my laptop! Updates to come...