Disclaimer: I am about to completely contradict myself.
Last night was a new first.
We left work and drove the 30 minutes or so it took to get to a beautiful piece of coastline owned by the National Trust, calling in at Costa for a cappuccino on the way. I put my new walking boots on, and we set off into the woodland first.
I can’t tell you what I loved most… The sounds of rustling leaves and crunching twigs underfoot… The warmth on my skin and the pleasure of knowing I can walk up each dune without gasping… The glow of sea and sky as we walked along the beach.
I just loved it. I love how it looks, smells, feels. But more importantly, I love the way it makes me feel. I have never driven anywhere after work other than home or to the shops. And why not? There’s nothing wrong with choosing to do something for me: my health and wellbeing. Once in a while I can make that choice.
The same, unfortunately, can definitely not be said for my eating. I’m struggling. I’m tired. I’m hungry.
I know it also is a choice. But I just can’t stop myself at the moment. I remember how it feels when people notice my weight loss, or when I pull on a pair of trousers and they’re too big. I just can’t seem to do it. I can’t stick to anything. For a short period of time, the euphoria of my wonder walk convinces me to refuse the pull of those unnecessary foods. But not for long enough.
Today, I have the welcomed ache in my legs from running down the beach. I also have the unwelcomed pinch at the waist of trousers that have suddenly become a little tight.