Category archive: health and fitness

The contents of our fridge, originally uploaded by bitful.

I am considering buying a new compact digital camera for a forthcoming trip, and was not too impressed with anything that's on the market at the moment (and that does not cost so much that I leave it at home for fear of ruining it, because if that's so what's the point?).

So I thought I'd use Dr B.'s, which is a bit better, and started taking pictures around the flat to compare quality and settings.

Then it dawned on me that our fridge is full of mostly insubstantial fluff, and that it has far too many low calorie products, contradicting what I posted earlier about having given up most diet food. You can read more information on all the items by clicking through to the photo on Flickr.

So perhaps another wave of ditching some more artificial stuff is due.

And I also must try and remember what all those supplements are for. Because this morning, believe you me, I look (and feel) every single one of my forty years.

There seems to be a trend around to persuade people to stop eating reduced-calorie processed food and eat a pretty much everything in moderate amounts. You know it when it get to read about it in Metro (Wednesday's issue, page 11, I'll be damned if I ever manage find a Metro article online to link to). You know it when Channel 4 makes a show out of it: Cook Yourself Thin.

I could not agree more. Last spring I gave up diet coke, sugar free yogurts, light instant chocolate, Weight Watchers desserts, slimline tonic water, reduced-calorie fruit juices, sugar-free candy (at work only, while I allow myself some in the evening). I replaced some of these with their full-fat equivalent, and I lost weight. So much so that my 'skinny jeans' (once only wearable to 'standing-up' dos, and even that, only on an empty stomach) have now become my 'slightly loose jeans I go to work with').

I initially did not do it in order to lose weight (like most people, I thought the idea just did not make sense), but because I was sick and tired of finding that everything I ate had at least ten ingredients, nine of which man-made. Because folks, if you remove sugar and fat, you've got to add sweeteners, enhancers, emulsifiers, stabilisers, aromas and stuff, otherwise you may as well nibble on a piece of cardboard.

Of course I had to watch very carefully what I ate. And of course I had to do just a little more exercise. If you expect not to have to, then sorry mate but you are a bit thick and you deserve to stick to this week's boring diet fad. Oh and by the way, your breath stinks of ketosis.

I knew it was a good idea to keep reading the work club newsletter even if, week after week, no item caught my attention. Because finally yesterday there was an offer to try out the work gyms for free for four weeks.

As this comes at a time when I do not have much time to go to my gym (which is one tube stop away) at lunchtime, I bolted out and into the next building and fifteen minutes later I was a member.

I went at lunchtime and although it's just a small room with some cardio equipment, a few weights machines and a handful of dumbbells, I managed to have a good workout. The place was not busy (most people were running, cycling or climbing stairs). I worked out slightly differently because of the different weights, bench angles and machines. But best of all, I went from desk to press bench in a little over three minutes.

I would not have it as my main gym membership (my main workouts are Saturday and/or Sunday, when I have more time), but I might justify paying the additional (and very reasonable) fee in the future so that I can make the most of even a spare half hour at lunch.

So now not only can I squeeze into my skinny jeans again (well, I say skinny, the label says 32W), but I can even go out in public in them (I wore them a couple of weeks ago to a garden party spent inside due to the rain). The trick is not sitting down.

I have therefore decided to clear out my closet and give away anything that does not fit.

This is a bold move for me: many times in the past I got back in shape but kept a set of 34w trousers in case the weight crept back on. This time I will get rid of them, and if I baloon again, well, I'll be big and beautiful in some newly bought threads.

But I'm funny with clothes. They are infused with memories. I often remember what I was wearing on most occasions in the past, probably because I had put some effort into choosing what to put on. Only last week I wished I had kept a t-shirt I used to love, a pale yellow, deep v-neck Fruit-of-the-Loom that I wore all the time… when I was eleven. Yes, I know, I so need to get out there and get meself one of them life things.

So for now the clothes to give away are in an unused drawers unit that is waiting to be Craiglisted itself. Chances are they will crawl their back into the closed on a fat day.

I have been exchanging emails with Dr B.'s brother, who is into his third month since stopping smoking, and only a few weeks since giving up nicotine patches.

He has been having dreams about smoking and I told him I used to have them all the time too when I stopped over four years ago. He says:

'The dreams are horrid. The nice ones are when I just think "I've blown it", the bad ones are when I think "This is really nice, why did I stop?". I am ok though.'

If you are a smoker and are considering stopping, do it. It was probably the best decision I ever took in my life, and I wish I had made it sooner.

If you have stopped smoking, please get into your head that there is no such thing as 'just one cigarette'. I had stopped for over a year, when at a party I had one, thinking I could manage it.

One month later I was back to one packet a day.

It took me twelve years to finally manage to quit again, with dozens of failed attempts.

So, dont (have just one if you have stopped). And (do stop now if you are considering it).

Do you need more motivation? OK then. It has now been four years and days since I stopped smoking. I did not smoke

I like to record data and then I like to look at data. Sometimes I like to share data.

Just like I like to write down every single penny I spend, I also enjoy making a note of every single calorie that passes my lips. I then weigh myself every morning and in order to obtain a quick at-a-glance overview of how I am doing, I assigned a colour code for each day:

• over 14 stone: red
• between 13 1/2 and 14 stone: dark orange
• between 13 and 13 1/2 stone: light orange
• between 12 1/2 and 13 stone: yellow
• between 12 stone and 12 1/2 stone: green

Then, at the end of the month I calculate the average of all the daily weights, and get a colour for the month.

Today was light orange for the first time since 16 September 2006. Quite an achievement if you think that May had quite a few red days. Not so much of an achievement when you consider that I have not adopted healthier eating habits but have only been a bit disgusted by all sorts of food and I'm trying to discover what food I can stomach (tonight's dinner: marinated herring, carrots, celery with Greek yogurt – Dr B. nearly passed out in disgust).

Ten days ago I watched the BBC's undercover investigation on lack of basic hygiene in supermarkets.

For the last ten days I have been living on hard-boiled eggs, canned tuna, rolled oats, and assorted fruit and vegetables. Anything with the least amount of human filth added to it.

I can now button up my skinny jeans. Without having to lie on the floor, thank you very much.

I have also protected the programme on the DVR so that I do not erase it by mistake, in case I need a reminder (beach in 7 days, you see).

I have always enjoyed the convenience of supermarket food. However, I have lately started reading labels a bit more thoroughly than just the calories content, and I did not like what I saw.

The other night I got stuck in watching Whistleblower on BBC1 against my better judgement:

For six months, two BBC reporters worked undercover to investigate health and safety issues around food in some of Britain's supermarkets. They find produce beyond its shelf life that's re-labelled and put back on fresh food counters.

Like, we did not already know?

The programme only confirmed what I have always suspected:

• falsified temperature logs, both for freezers and for core temperature of roast chicken
• bin bags used to cover meat nightly – and reused for a whole week
• rats in an area where goods are temporarily stored upon delivery
• knives and chopping boards casually mixed (raw/cooked meat/fish)
• 'best before' and 'sell by' dates regularly extended once they expire

A company that supplies leading supermarkets with ready made meals had a vat of onion bajii mix A bucket was dipped regularly into it to pick up the mix and feed it into a machine. The bucket that previously was on the floor. The very same floor that employees walked on after having visited filthy toilets (in a state I've only ever seen in clubs at around 5am) WITHOUT CHANGING THEIR BOOTS OR WASHING THEIR HANDS AFTERWARDS.

Throughout the programme, it was clear that people were instructed to throw away food and observe strict hygiene rules, but either did not have the time to do so because they were understaffed, or could not afford to do so because they had to meet strict performance targets.

Last year Tesco's profits alone were in excess of two billion pounds.

Last Thursday night I was about to start dinner when a sudden urge to go running came upon me.

Alright, it's just that after gaining a considerable advantage over Dr B. by running every other day last week in Italy, I would have hated for him to sprint and win our 'Who runs 100km first' Nike + challenge.

So I donned my gear and I stepped out. Two point five kilometres later I was approaching the Houses of Parliament. The Palace of Westminster looked gorgeous, its brownish hue brightened up by the early evening sunset glow, bright against a dark blue/dark grey ominous sky.

I ran past it and back home the long way across Westminster bridge. The Thames looked wide and peaceful, I could see the general direction of home in the distance and as I waved hello to Barcode Vauxhall's security man without stopping (he did not recognise me wearing shorts and a vest, or so I thought but on Friday night he said he did eventually) I thought that London and I have a lot in common. A glorious past. Doing our best to keep up with the times. Curious and hungry for knowledge. And living our more mature years under the illusion that we still have it.

I got home (a little over six kilometres round-trip) and connected my iPod. I waited with anticipation as it uploaded my running data to the Nike + website, then I checked my progress:

1. bitful: 99.61 km
2. Dr B.: 90.56 km

390 metres to win! I felt like running out again straight away, to Tesco and back for a celebratory tub of icecream. Instead, I thought I'd give Dr B. a chance to catch up.

Then yesterday I went for a four mile lunchtime run at work – but forgot to connect the receiver so it was not logged!

It's like I do not really want to win…

We are in the middle of British Sandwich Week 2007.

Unfortunately, we are also in the middle of our 'ZOMFG we only have three weeks to squeeze back into last year's swimsuits' week. There's no way I'm buying a larger size. I mean, my trunks were loose last year!

I know a sandwich can be a very healthy and nutritious meal with little calories and low fat.

However, you will beg to differ too if you had ever witnessed me transform a 400g pack of sliced bread, one of cheese singles and ten slices of ham into five sandwiches with the same ease a professional dealer shuffles a deck of cards – and then make them disappear into thin air in a matter of seconds.

[stares dreamily into the distance]

Right, we were saying? Ah, yes: trunks, diet.

:-(

I've been in Italy for the last few days to see my mother who is in hospital.

It is very hard to say whether it is serious or not; she had been losing a considerable amount of blood through her faeces and was taken into hospital to receive some blood transfusions and to undergo a series of tests.

The hospital is new, clean and more than adequately staffed. The doctors sound competent and are very thorough. They think they might have found some trivial skin growth near her 72-year-old appendix scar that could be the origin if the bleeding, but they need more tests to confirm.

Unfortunately, for some reason to us unknown, the tests are performed one week apart. This means that today is the start of her fourth week in hospital.

And because she only just had cataract surgery, she cannot read, do crosswords or crochet, so all she does all day is lie in semi-darkness, pray, and drink pint after pint of water to prepare her bowels for another test.

Her rosary beads – and her patience – are by now nearly worn out.

Yesterday I entered my first race and completed a 5 kilometres (3.1 miles) run.

It is probably not a big deal for most, but I consider it a great achievement, because as recently as last January I could not run for more than ten minutes without being out of breath.

I trained regularly, went for lunchtime runs with colleagues and on the treadmill at the gym, slowly built up my endurance and lately started working on speed too.

In early April I gave Dr B. an iPod nano for his birthday, as well as the Nike+ iPod sport kit that logs your running data and uploads it to the Nike+ website where you can set yourself goals and launch/join challenges with other people. I liked it so much that I got one myself.

I twittered about it and Gordon invited me to join the April Fools challenge (whoever runs the most KM during April) where I ended up at a very honourable second place.

Dr B. challenged me to whoever runs 100KM first, so every night when we get home we plug our iPods and check on the website who is winning. Thanks to last night's race, I am currently in the lead by a very small margin.

I do not consider myself as highly competitive, but I'll be honest with you: there have been days where I would gladly have skipped training but the prospect of having to see Dr B.'s smug winner face prodded me to go the extra mile – quite literally.