carry that weight….

Well, I was really bummed today, really depressed feeling. I went to get my hair cut and it’s in this somewhat posh part of town. I ALWAYS get so depressed walking through there mostly because I see all these shops with overpriced stuff that I can’t imagine anyone wanting let alone actually buying and yet these shops exist despite all the people who (like me) can’t even afford new shoes. I think, what kind of people support these stores. I never even see shoppers in them. It’s such a downer.

Anyhow, afterward I went and dropped money in another part of town on the old staple, books and magazines. That made me feel a little better. Then I went to the gym and jogged and cycled and the sweat pouring off me felt SO good. So, did upping the treadmill to 9.9 kph and running to some Chemical Brothers. Then a long walk home. 

I walked a lot today and kept getting heavier and heavier because I had bought things. My backpack was full and I had a waistpack on and bags in both hands. My feet were starting to hurt and I was wondering just how much weight I was carrying. When I got home I weighed everything and I was surprised to find it was only about 10 kg (23 pounds)! Wow. I never think much of 10 kg but it just goes to show what it feels like on your feet after a while. This means I will definitely have something to look forward to if/when I lose 10 kg because I will feel that much lighter on my feet! 

Actually, there was a time a couple years ago where I definitely packed on the fat, probably around 5 kg of it and my knees really started hurting. I was surprised, didn’t think 5 kg would make any difference but I guess it does, That’s 12 pounds and if just doesn’t sound like much but I suppose there’s a point where your body just says, “No more!” and starts hurting. 

Well, other than that, my self-ban on booze, cigs and sugar continues. I am at that point though where I am starting to toy with the idea of drinking again, or eating sugar. I hope to not smoke. Part of me wants to just do a complete about-face and stop drinking totally and the other part wants my freedom. It feels cool to be a teetotaler for now because it was so NOT me. There is great freedom in not having to figure in late mornings to give myself time to recuperate, freedom in only having to shake off a lack of sleep instead of a hangover, freedom in knowing I am not going to stay out till dawn and that my morning commitments will be met. There is freedom in this stability and consistency and I like it. But, I do miss hunkering down with a friend over a number of pints and hours of conversation. I’ve got to find a compromise and it’s not to be found in moderation, No, it’s just not me. 

I have to figure something out though because allowing myself too much rein leads to … well, you know what I do with it… 

Picture of my horse, Heidi, taken yesterday with my phone….



Ok, I figured I had to get in here and post an update, especially after reading that horrible last post. I was really down and it wasn’t like me to go on and on like that…or is it? LOL.

In any case, I’m feeling a lot better even though I have had some rough days, or is it because I have had some rough days…and…gotten through them with class that I feel better. I would say it’s the latter. 

Yup, it’s over one entire month since I had a drop of alcohol. The same goes for smoking and sugar isn’t far behind. I’m finally figuring out how to sit with my emotions and all the shite that happens in life and get through without overeating and drinking.

It’s taken long enough.

Here’s a photo from the Nov. 30 Japan Cup I took with my phone. Late afternoon sun low in the sky. Italian rider Mirco Demuro aboard winner race ninth pick Screen Hero raises his arm in triumph for the cameras. Vodka came in fourth.

Mirco Demuro raises his arm in triumph aboard Screen Hero after winning the 2008 Japan Cup at Tokyo Racecourse.


the pits….

God, I am so depressed, crying depressed again. I probably should be doped up. I’m sure people on Prozac and shit probably feel a lot better than I feel most of the time and yet go for antidepressants. With me, it’s just, well, this is the way it is, there’s nothing you can do but try to fight mental with mental (and exercise and good eating….which I, by the way, have NOT been doing). It’s part of the reason for the depression, drinking, smoking, eating junk food, not getting much exercise. But the real reason is because I can’t ride my horse, my routine is gone, I have no love in my life and then I feel shitty and make it worse by, for example, today not going at all because I felt sick. Well, I did have asthma and my lungs hurt but I knew if I went it would probably get better. But, I also knew I would only see my horse and I feel bad for her all cooped up.

In any case, any time I start writing I start to feel better. I wonder if that indicates something, like that I like to write…hmmm…it would be nice to find something I can do. Oh, hell, it all just feels like too much to me anymore. But why? Why can I not embrace life and welcome the experience, take the good with the bad and not have it beat me down?

I stay out till morning (did it again on Tuesday night even though I didn’t want to I went along with a guy who was himself depressed and looking for a drinking partner to help cheer him up and that was me) and of course the alcohol depresses me further. It feels OK while I’m drinking and I say I am using this time to find myself, to explore and perhaps I am, perhaps it is a good experience. On the other hand, it makes much of the rest of my life seem all the more depressing in itself, the drag at work, the lack of joy, the lack of even interest in my work, in anything anymore and now riding without my horse, who was really my love, or is, but when I can’t ride her it’s not the same. Sigh.

The couple articles I write leave me feeling inept. I know they’re nothing special, but then, is anyone’s? What does “good” mean? Writing about someone who does good? Writing about someone whose story is utterly amazing, thus making the story my story. No, I think that’s what happens too much. It’s the story that makes the article appear good, when a good writer should be able to take the mundane and turn it into something memorable. That’s what I would like to achieve.

Oh, hell, my fingers are cracked, raw, so painful. My skin on my scalp and my arms is dry and flaking and so itchy. It just makes everything feel that much worse.

Oh, I wish something would help me feel better.


tough run…

I’m really down about the weight loss. I had a loss yesterday on the scale and I DO feel tighter, but the scale is way up again this morning. It’s a joke, really, a very bad joke and it’s so disheartening. I mean, come on, the same old, same old. I guess I just have to really cut back on food, really deprive myself. I mean, I’m NOT drinking anything. That has to be good for something, no? Where would all those beer calories go? Yes, they go to my waist, but not on the scale? WTF??!!?!? Oh well, I will just have to cut out salt and stop with the rollercoaster on the scale because of it. 

I am going to indulge myself here and rant about the lack of weight loss. I am SO utterly disgusted with seeing the same numbers come up on the scale. Why am I so friggin’ good at maintaining the status quo???! It is really pissing me off. 

Ok, maybe I am pretty fit and it takes a LOT of effort but I want that PLUS some of my effort to show through. Now, here I am thinking it doesn’t show through, but I guess it does. I look like a sumo wrestler, muscular with lots of padding. 

What I’ve got to realize is that I have to take off the padding with EXTRA work and not compensate with eating more because I did more. That’s my downfall. I always do that. Oh, today I really worked out so the extra calories won’t matter. Sure, if I were already at my goal they wouldn’t matter but I have to pay my dues, the dues I racked up indulging myself when I wasn’t working out, the times I sat in the pub downing pint after pint. It’s those times I’m paying for now, damn them.

And I don’t want to pay because the effort alone is enough to put me in a vile mood. Oh, damn, I hate this whole thing, this whole trying to have something I don’t have because I’m not willing to keep on doing more and more and more. What goes? Why is effort so difficult for me? It seems other people can do what it takes. I am a lazy sod, that’s all I can say. When I make effort, and I do, I immediately want compensation and at THAT time, if it’s not immediate, then I’m not satisfied and so, I go round and round in circles. Fit BUT fat.

Well, so there, I just showed the error in my thinking. It’s not that I’m lazy or don’t make the effort, it’s that I UNDO the effort I do make, because I want rewards, rewards, rewards, NOW!!!! Some distant promise of weight loss, the body I want etc. etc. just doesn’t do it for me. I want the reward now. There is NO reward in the workout itself. Sure, it may feel OK, but I am tired as all get out and either have to push myself for an entire day after the workout if it’s a morning workout or, what?, go home and that’s it, no fun, no good tastes, no beer buzz, just that’s it?! WTF??! This is my problem. The workouts are work, God damn it, they are and they’re not fun.

Maybe, maybe I should just accept that….