The Abseil

As I trembled at the top of the National Maritime Museum in Falmouth, wearing a climbing helmet and harness, the man asked if I had abseiled before. I replied no, to which he said 'bloody good time to start, huh?'. I trembled some more. 

It was Friday 15 November and we were raising money for Children in Need. My Mum, a 70 year old, had agreed to do the abseil a few weeks before. After some though, I decided that I would do it as well (if my Mum can do it...). The thing is, I'm terrified of heights but pride was not going to get in my way (or is it the other way around? Pride got in my way so that, despite being afraid, I agreed to do it). 

As I walked around the outside of the 95ft high tower, I wondered if I had just made a terrible mistake. In fact, I wondered if I should just walk back the way I had come. The only problem was that people had sponsored me; I had no choice. 

I reached the end of the walkway, and was attached to the ropes, shown how to let myself down and then told to climb over the railings. 

'What?', I said. Now I felt queasy. Climb over the bloody railings? You have to be joking. My body, however, was not listening to me. Before I knew it, one leg was over the other side and the other one was following it. What am I doing? I thought, though my body carried on following orders. 

'Now lower yourself down'. 

I started to lower myself down, eyes closed (I'm not that brave) until I realised that I wasn't going to fall. I was about 20ft down when I stopped and waved to my Dad who was taking photographs at ground level. I tried not to think about anything at all, but I knew that I was almost finding it fun. It helped that S, who was not afraid in the slightest (rude!), was right beside me for the whole way down.

Me and S about to let go and lower ourselves down.

We waited at the bottom for my Mum who looked grey with terror, and who had to go through the middle of the railings rather than over because she couldn't climb (she said she was too old). She did it though, and raised over £700. Although I battled with my fear to do the abseil, my Mum was the one who really achieved something. It took her nearly an hour to calm down afterwards.

It goes to show that if you don't do something because you are afraid, how do you know you won't enjoy it? 

A writer who can't write is like a sword fighter who is afraid to pick up a sword: not a lot of good when someone comes at him with a broadsword.

I have written articles and short stories in the past. My last article was published last December in Cornwall Today magazine but I haven't written anything since. I can't...I won't. I even have an interview to write about but it has been sat recorded on my phone for months (fyi My Samsung galaxy S2 has a better voice recorder than my dedicated dictaphone!). I also need to write letters for my boss to send out to people but it can take me so long (too long) to write one. It is frustrating, but it is also something I want to work on next.

I have always suffered from writer's block. Sometimes I find myself free from it, sometimes it is so crippling that I can stare at a blank page in horror,my guts an agony of twisted knots. It is a confidence thing, I am sure.

Being able to write the occasional blog post is helping but I think I need to do more. If I had remembered nanowrimo (novel writing month which is November) I would have prepared characters and the basic storyline for a short novel, but I found out as it was starting. I feel I need to challenge myself more.

I have been writing a bucket list and steadily working my way through it. I have milked a cow (because it was random), I have done a voiceover job, I have slept in a car (that was on S's list not mine) and I am gradually walking the cornish coast 13-15 miles at a time. A short story is on my list, my worst nightmare in terms of writing: creativity, length, completion. It feels like one of my biggest challenges yet!

I hate that feeling when you drive into work and think it's going to be a shit day. Tired, suffering from another restless night and an early morning (needing a holiday), the drive in is slow because of lorries. And then, you get into work, set up the laptop and make a cup of tea, you look out of the window and see a rainbow. Physics on the grand scale.

Perhaps it won't be such a bad day after all. :-)

Floor skating and other things

Try this when you're bored in the supermarket, an evening shop with the aisles empty of people and, most importantly, the floor has just been freshly polished: floor skating. A fantastic new sport that is not just designed for children.

I was not in the mood for shopping tonight but, other than a dodgy looking bag of salad and some cauliflower, we had no food in the house. I can be ingenious when it comes to creating meals from random food - admittedly the kale omelette was a mistake that time - but there really was nothing I could make. So, off to the local supermarket we went. To make myself feel better, I went to the stationery section as soon as I got there.

I decided to find my partner who was prowling the homeware section, presumably for the same reason, (this can be dangerous. If I don't watch her, she would fill this flat with fluffy cushions and pink towels...), when I found myself sliding around the corner as if on ice. The soft soles of my Dr Martins (I am such a stereotype at times) helped on that freshly polished floor. That was it: I raced up and down the aisle and went into full skids up and down. How exciting. It was then I saw myself on the tv screen: caught mid slide.

But who cares? I have spent so much of my life caring about what other people think, tonight I decided to break that record. I came up with a cunning plan to make the shop go faster with fun. The rule was you had to pretend you were iceskating through the store. It was fun. OK so people looked at us oddly but I didn't care. If you can't laugh at yourself and let your hair down, then what's the point?

45 minutes later, we were bloody knackered and breathing heavily but the shopping was done and we had fun doing it. As a treat, we bought some giant sparklers to play with.

I suffer from stress quite a bit but it is moments like this (and with a forgiving girlfriend) that help me unwind. And now to relax. :-)

Today I was asked by a colleague to give diet advice. It makes me really happy when someone wants to make a positive, healthy change to their life. I don't know much but I'm happy to offer what knowledge I have.

It wasn't quite the blog entry I was going for, but this seems to be the theme of the day.

It isn't the first time I've been asked for diet advice in the last couple of year. It is because I lost 3.5 stone, which hasn't gone unnoticed. I don't have a "before" picture, but I do have the most recent picture which was taken at the weekend:

I am not thin (not in the modern size-zero sense), but I am happy. I am fit and healthy. Isn't that all that matters?

Having been a bit of a chubberchops, I honestly feel that, even with the best intentions and strongest motivation, a diet can only ever be a temporary phase. The diet will fail, or the resolve be blown apart the next time you get stressed out and need a chocolate bar. It is because we put so much meaning on the word 'diet'. It is like a punishment because you can't eat all the 'naughty' things you want to. My advice: don't do it, and especially don't try to be thin. Oh, and don't use the scales! Why set yourself up to fail?

The easiest thing I did was to simply cut out the crap: stop eating wheat, cheese, and sugar (which is sadly in almost every food you can buy these days), added lots of vegetables to my diet, and exercised. I have not made changes because I want to be thin, I have done it because I want to feel well, and to be able to enjoy my martial arts and other activities without getting ill. It was (and always will be) a lifestyle choice, not a diet. The weight loss was a side effect, as was good skin and increased confidence.

So many people spend so much energy on trying to fit into an image of what they think they 'should' be, instead of focusing on how they would like to be. They focus on goals that aren't achievable. Not everyone has a frame that can get down to a size zero, I know I don't (the thinnest I got was at 18 after being in the Peruvian rainforest for a month. I lost so much weight that size 8 clothes were hanging off me by the time I got to uni) nor would it be healthy to try.

I like being asked about my weight loss plan but not many people want to hear it. There is no quick fix that will last, you see. It is hard work all the way but it is worth it in the end.

If I could, I would be going to my kick boxing and kung fu classes tomorrow night. I can't...I mustn't. I shouldn't really...  Sigh. I know I won't, but I can dream of going. I can be an arm chair martial artist for the evening and dream of doing the most amazingly high front kicks and dazzling spinning kicks that land perfectly every time. I would be Michelle Yeoh in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, or Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. I would, essentially, be amazing. It would be the best training session ever (and it wouldn't even be showing off, because everyone else would have equally amazing skills which we would use to spar and train together).

OK. So now I'm even fantasising about exercise. I'm not sure that's a good sign.

I am still incapacitated with my leg injuries: day 4 and I'm getting to the point of tearful frustration. At least the pain is beginning to subside.  I had to work from home today (thankfully I have a very understanding boss...plus I have proven that PA work can be done anywhere so long as you have a laptop, work notes and work phone). My feet up, phone beside me, I actually got an awful lot of work done, but I just didn't want to be here: stuck. With no exercise.

I never was very patient.

It wasn't so long ago, a couple of years perhaps, that I hardly exercised at all. That was before, when I was in the 'bad' relationship. I stayed at home most of the time, I drove everywhere, and I became overweight. I was back to exercising as soon as I got out of that awful relationship. In fact, at one point, you could say that I was mildly obsessional about exercise. I was running 7 miles 3 times a week, plus doing 30-40 mile cycles at the weekends, plus walks most days. You can have too much of a good thing: I got sick because I wasn't eating enough carbs and vitamins to cover what I needed. 

I take a more measured approach nowadays. Admittedly, if I hadn't been running back from a two hour kung fu session, I wouldn't be where I am now, but at least I always make sure that I am well fed with the right nutrients, hydrated and ready to go. I don't do nearly as much exercise either. But, if I can't exercise, I really do notice its absence. It has reminded me that I should be grateful for my fitness levels and ability more often, because I don't know when I could lose it.

I guess that's the same with everything in life: be grateful for it when you can.