The penny drops

Team LBTEPA had a brilliant time in Sydney.

 It is impossible to stop looking at the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. Stunning.

  

 285m up? Makes for a better view!

I *heart* Manly Beach!
Since returning from Sin City your heroine has ventured into other unknown territory, to whit: the colourist's chair at the hair salon! You may henceforth refer to me as Bluey

I'm not used to it yet and still a bit iffy about what it does to my skin tone, but everyone else likes it.
Which leads me to the very loud 'clunk' you may have heard from these parts recently.
It's just sunk in (don't ask why - okIoveratelastweekandthe2kgIlaboriouslyshedhavemadetheirwaybackonindoublequicktimebastards) that I will have to think about everything I eat. All. The Time.
Which means no more winging it - gotta plan, gotta shop, gotta think days in advance about who's home and how many of us there'll be and what we'll be doing and how much cooking time I'll have...ewwww. Tiring and boring even to think about. I'm hoping desperately assuming this feeling will pass, and I'll become happily fascinated by food? Anyone else experienced that?
It also means paying attention to my feelings. All. The Time. No banishing anger and how'mIgunnagetallthisdone panic and weariness and soreness with sugar and carbs. Ewwww.
But you know what? I was reading a blogthe other day and suddenly, bugger the penny, the fifty cent piece - no, the doubloon! - hit the floor with a clang so mighty it woke the dogs.
LBTEPA OWNS HER STUFF.
I OWN THIS SITUATION. It doesn't own me.
Get me a hot steaming mug of HTFU and my food diary.

 more anon, Pepys!

Heading North

what with the Man Of The House away in Melbourne with his parents it's been a matter of squeezing in workouts where I can - two hours between clients is enough time to finish notes, eat, get to the pool, run on the spot at the deep end for half an hour SO FUN. NOT, and return my appearance to the understated elegance so important in my work hahahaha but really, smelling of chlorine simply wouldn't be the thing. I called in my last babysitting markers with Mum (and promised her Foxtel when she gets to the nursing home) so I could hit the gym tonight. I began my session with a consummate demonstration of Rowing Machine Epic Fail, 44 seconds slower than on Sunday for the same distance and RPE (Rate of Perceived Effort - it's all jargon all the time at the gym you know, must fit in!). SO FUN. NOT. But then there were nice clanky machines to heave around and really not that many mirrors. And the music's not bad. I like to keep up with what the kiddies are listening to.
Unfolded washing situation is becoming dire. J's half of the bed is completely covered!  I'll have to set the alarm early tomorrow so we have things to pack for Sydney! I've never been there (don't faint) and am looking forward to it very much despite the craziness it's taking to get there.

More anon, fast talkers!

Yay for everyone!

It's two years since my last race - Melbourne marathon day!  Yay to all my friends rebuilding their running lives! And yay to the bloke from our tri club who came 58th overall at Kona today! Yay!
J is in Melbourne with his Dad because his mum is in hospital there. It's all a bit of a worry. I'm here at home having spent a very unpleasant spell in front of the mirrors at the gym. Yeah yeah yeah the truth hurts etc etc. But I did surprise the hot young personal trainer with my rowing machine awesomeness, so that's something. He said we might need to count calories to get the results I want, and I said if that's what it took I'd change what I want. I keep a food diary and I'll adhere to the dietary guidelines he has given me, but my head is just about exploding with all the other **** going on in my life at the 'mo; putting a numeric value on my food is not only against my principles but Just Too F***ing Much right now. I feel so overwhelmed that if I didn't have to fold a cubic metre of washing, kid-wrangle and get the place sorted for the work week and (possibly; see 'sick m-i-l', above) a trip to Sydney next weekend, I'd crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. Don't say ' so just don't fold it' - we were in such a hurry yesterday to get out the door to drive 2 hours to get J his gear so he could go to Melbourne with his parents that we just pulled the washing off the line and dumped it all on the bed.
*Update: I pushed it into baskets on the floor. It can wait.
But I digress.
My goals for the next few months
- do a chin-up
- the Big Bay Swim
- to not have to buy any more work pants in my current (bigger) size. I have a drawer full of hardly-worn dacks!
- get my shoulders flexible enough to join my hands behind my back better than this bloke can

How was your weekend of awesomeness, comrades?

Stuff that shouldn't have upset me but sort of did

At the personal training intro session on Sunday I found out lots of new stuff.
I weigh 92 kg on the gym scales
My upper arms are too big for the gym blood pressure machine. They had to get the medical one out of a special bag in a cupboard.
My blood pressure is 135/85 (about 10 points higher on both systolic and diastolic than last time it was checked)
I seem to have shrunk by 3cm since I was 18
My biological age is apparently 61
I can stop myself from crying in public if I have to.
I drink too much tea. I didn't even know that was possible.
Almonds will probably work better for me as a snack than cashews do.
My trainer wants me to count calories. I am not going to. Food is not numbers.
I can only manage 2 minutes at a time on the elliptical, but if I rest for 30 seconds I can do it again nine more times. 
Still, as the wonderful Lisa points out, "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can."  (Arthur Ashe)
This all seems very daunting and overwhelming to me, but feelings are not actions. My actions will be about conquering this mountain of unhelpful habits and bodily weakness.
What's the biggest mountain you've ever climbed?

More anon, karabiners!

More anon,

ODTAA

In the interests of not being All Whingeing All the Time I refrained in my last post from mentioning that I took a misstep on Tuesday morning and my back has been giving me absolute curry ever since. It hurts to walk, it hurts to roll over in bed, it hurts to move suddenly, and it hurt like **** to sit for four hours in a bus on our long-planned school holiday trip to Melbourne and walk around Sovereign Hill and the aquarium for two days. Thankyou anti-inflammatories is all I'm saying. The physio said it was all related to the Wobbly Pelvis of Doom, OF COURSE. Prescription: stupid exercises, stretching, and a good dose of HTFU. I'll start my personal training on Sunday as planned, only about 1000000000000 steps further back than I hoped.
But still, worse things happen at sea.

 

More anon, me hearties!

Spoke too soon

So your heroine trotted off to the physio to get some advice about the dodgy achilles so the personal training could all go smoothly and appropriately and she could aim for her goals in a sensible and medically appropriate manner.
You know this is going to end badly, don't you? *cue sinister Jaws-type cello music*
He was very thorough. Damn him (only not really). Tight calves, tight lower back - nothing escaped his eagle eye. Nothing. Especially not the (sing it with me, kids!) horribly unstable pelvis! Yes! Again!
So.
The Plan Is This
Many many reps of stupid tiresome lame-arse what sort of loser can't do that tremendously helpful leg-wiggling exercises designed to finally properly stabilise the Wobbly Core of Doom.
Pool running! Yay! Not.
Rowing machine and cycling! Yay! Really.
No walking or standing (gunna be great fun at the Zoo with Noddie tomorrow. That's what drugs are for)
No running. Well der.
No swimming. There goes my ****ing awesome goal that I was so happy about. ****.
Another day, another setback, eh?
But if there's anything at which LBTEPA excels, it's having a big sook and then getting through setbacks. Bring. It. On.

More anon, big-bang theorists!