I coulda been a contender

I've been a bit quiet lately. Mainly because I've been working hard, still training, and going slightly crazy as a result of the restricted diet. It really is driving me nuts. I am getting cravings all over the place and I dream of food. I just have to keep reminding myself that this will make my life better in the long run. As a diet, its completely unsustainable, and I'm so looking forward to eating a bit more normally. And to cheat a little bit again.

I was reflecting today about my fitness and why I wasn't ever really the sporty type. More accurately, I was remembering school. My school was a grammar school in Northern Ireland. It was rugby for the boys, hockey for the girls kind of school, which was a bit tricky for me, as I was much more a volleyball player, and a swimmer. I loved swimming. My school even had a pool, but access was very limited. Every spring, as the weather got a bit warmer, our games teacher would drag us outside, and we begin a bit of an athletics programme. Running various distances, high jump, long jump, javelin, hammer and so on. The athletics was seen only as supplementary training for the rugby and hockey, and those of us who didn't make the squads were always last to be given a choice on the activities we got to take. At age 13 and 14, I was still keen to please and eager to participate, so I always gave everything my best shot. It turned out that I was pretty good at middle distance running, even if I was carrying a couple of extra pounds even then (but back then it really was only a couple of pounds). I practiced the 800m and 1500m after school on the track, and made it into the sports day final because of my time. On the day of the final, pumped full of adrenaline, I set out hard and fast, and was setting the pace in the 1500m. I was carefully counting the laps, thinking to myself that I might just be able to keep the pace up and be the first through the tape at the finish line. I could feel the other runners on my heels, and dug in and, and, yes!, made it through. I was first! I couldn't believe it, and neither could most of the other runners. But I didn't have much time to celebrate, because somehow, I had been put in the final of the high jump too, not because I had any skill in the high jump, but simply because I was one of the taller boys, and they figured I'd get over the bar. So having been shown the technique only once, I ran up, made the half turn and flung myself over the bar. As I landed on the mat, I felt a pain shoot up my arm. I had landed badly, and I knew I'd done some damage, but everything looked fine. I just couldn't raise my left arm any more. It later turned out I had broken my arm and my collar bone. But this isn't what turned me against sports. No. It was when they called for the winner of the 1500m, and my name wasn't on the list. Instead they called the boys who had come in behind me. To be fair, the boy who came second did point out that I had beaten him, and my parents also came over to talk to the teacher. The teacher just shrugged and told me to never mind, that it was just a mistake and it was too late fix it now, after the announcement had been made. I think it was then that the bitterness began to set in. If my achievements, the achievements I had worked hard towards, were not going to be recognised by the school, then I just wasn't going to try. When it turned out that my arm was broken, I felt doubly hard done by. The school admitted neglect, but somehow persuaded my parents not to sue, but I guess I was always treated a little bit differently after that. So I stopped going to games classes, and scheduled extra classes in Greek and Theatre instead.

And I just never took up sport until my recent quest for fitness. Last year, while running split sets with my then trainer, my trainer said to me that I had all the qualities of a proper runner if I'd have had the right encouragement and training. My current trainer said something similar- he said I put in the effort and had improved so much in the time he'd been training me that he thought I could have been on the amateur athletics circuit had I set abut training earlier- he also told me it wasn't too late. I know this could be just trainer speak- giving me the encouragement and appealing to my ego, but it felt really good. And I think they were right. I could have, had I received the right encouragement earlier.

Reading material

I'm much better, again. This tummy thing, the possible Crohn's, comes in long, low swells, with short, sharp nasties in the betweens, and then longer lulls. I'm back to being okay. In fact, today I feel pretty good. Good enough for a run in the great outdoors. I planned some short jogs with little breaks since I'm just back on my feet from the illness, and it was okay.

In other news, I have a pretty eclectic range of friends, all of whom know I'm a big reader, so I often get great and wonderful recommendations through the post. I just got a copy of "My Judy Garland Life" by Susie Boyt (who happens to be from the great Freud family). The book is Susie Boyt deconstructing her fandom to Judy Garland- what are the things that resonate, that mean so much, that make her into such a super fan. I've just started, and there's a section that I thought really interesting. Susie Boyt is talking about being a fat kid, just like Judy Garland was considered fat by the studio execs in MGM. Then she shifts forward into adulthood:

"If I feel anxious or troubled at night I don't generally have the nerve to ring round for assistance or even to wake up the people in my house; I've no dawn patrol on stand by as Judy did - and even if I did I wouldn't dream of disturbing anyone- but I sometimes, to self-comfort, read a little pale green booklet published by Ladurée, the Parisian patisserie. I keep it on my bedside table. As I mouth the words of the descriptions, my sugar prayers, I imagine the cakes assembled in little neat rows, voluptuous and quivering in their square pink-lidded boxes. Order and plenty combined have always appealed. "

There's plenty on the next two pages I could have quoted and discussed, but this just struck me as something very strangely peculiar. To receive so much comfort from imagined delights that night anxieties would melt away. I'm afraid I just don't get it. I don't understand how the idea could settle and comfort. This fantasy will not be easily accessible, so it will be a fantasy denied. I also think it a little, well, pathetic, that you could place such emotional value in food. But maybe that is speaking from a place of me growing better and away from my own disordered eating. But I'm curious- does anyone else have any standby treat list that they rely on?

Even though I haven't touched...

...chocolate for quite a few months, I am craving it like crazy. A Cadbury's Creme Egg would go down quite nicely, thank you.

This is mostly because I am in my elimination diet, and I'm just craving chocolate because that's something I usually crave. I'm missing some of the basic things in my diet- onions, tomatoes and so on. This feeling will pass in couple of days and I can look forward to reintroducing them in a couple of weeks. Onions will be first to be re-introduced, I think.

I had bad cramps again yesterday, only this time in my belly and not in my legs. By bedtime, I had developed a fever and was shivering uncontrollably. I was out of sorts right through today as well. I'm thinking the question mark over the Crohn's shifts. I'm wasn't able to exercise, but I'm hoping to do something- anything, tomorrow.

The day after the day before

I'm walking like Charlie Chaplin at the moment. I have been going in and out of cramp in my quads most of the day, and its been agony. I'm pretty cross with my trainer. I mean, I need to function the next day.

On top of that, I'm feeling really nauseous. I was a little sick last night. I'm not sure if this is related to colitis or if its related to the medication I'm on. So its not the most pleasant of days. Nevertheless, I started the elimination diet. I'm so glad that I have been through this before, because I know now how I can keep some flavour in my food rather than just relying on brown rice and beans. I made some homemade sushi, which was yummy, if not as pretty as the stuff you get served in restaurants. In fact, it was a bit of a disaster looks wise- I really need to practice with the rolling mat, but I still ate some- before the nausea took over again.

I noticed that my trousers are getting loose. I'm not sure, given the sickness, if this is as actually as positive a thing as when I'm well. I guess I'll take it wherever it comes from!

Hey Mr. Trainer

Mr. Trainer. You are eminently more qualified than I, but surely somewhere you must recognize that 20 minutes of HIIT followed by 40 minutes of boxercise, in which my heart rate soars, isn't really the best combination. Saying "There is no such thing as can't. Can't is only when you're unconcious!" is not helpful or constructive encouragement. In fact, it made me crave unconciousness. I can see you're trying. The 1000 calories you sweated out me shows I'm trying too, but Mr. Trainer, really????

In which aishchai attempts a last pig out

Okay, I know its not particularly a healthy thing to do, but I know the rigours of an elimination diet, so tonight I treated me to some takeaway food. Its the first time in months I treated myself in this way. I had one of the moments at the counter where my pupils probably dilated with desire, and I made a quick selection of too many of the items available. Duck in Hoi Sin sauce and pancakes! Chicken in a plum sauce! Egg fried rice! Seaweed! Of course, after wolfing down the duck and pancakes- completely delicious- I couldn't so much as look at the remaining items. They are currently in the fridge, but I regret that they will probably end up in the bin tomorrow night rather than in my tummy- especially because there's nothing quite like cold leftover takeaway food to get you back on the straight and narrow again! I'm loving that I learning more and more when I'm full, and that I can stop. Although the pig out had the initial features of a binge- I asked for two sets of chopsticks so that it wouldn't appear that all the food was just for me, and I only went to order food once I knew the house would be empty- somehow my satiety reined me in.

I was also back at the gym today, and completed a HIIT session on the cross trainer, which must have looked ridiculous. I'm still adjusting to the new trainer's style, and I'm not sure. I'm giving him a fortnight to impress, or else he's out and I get another stand in until my proper trainer can use his foot again.

I also weighed in to see what the scales might say. I triple checked. And the scales are telling me I'm currently 226 lbs. I suspect this is a great blip downwards rather than a permanent state of affairs- I rather suspect my next weigh in will show a gain, despite me having started the elimination diet by then.

In which aishchai gets back in the saddle

It has been a strange couple of weeks, in which I've been poked, spiked, inflated and generally toyed with by the wonderful medical establishment. I have been having various tummy troubles for the past many years, but it was usually dismissed by previous doctors more concerned with my obesity, or more concerned with my mental health than with the thing I went to get advice about. I don't particularly blame the doctors. I'm a very compliant patient. I tend not to make myself heard very well when confronted by a white coat and a couple of very impressive degrees hanging on the wall. In the past, one other doctor heard my stories of horrible cramps, bloating and unmentionable toilet issues, and diagnosed coeliac disease- based mostly on the appearance of a rash called dermatitis herpetiformis, which I was covered with at the time. He was wrong, as I discovered after a couple of years following a coeliac diet (no grains) and before I had a biopsy on my duodenum, which showed I was not, in fact, coeliac.

Spin forward a couple of years, and the problem flares up again. This time the cramps are so bad, and the unmentionable toilet troubles so difficult to live with that somehow I end up in an emergency room, sent direct from my doctor's surgery. Some investigation, poking, bloods and so on, and a tentative diagnosis of Crohn's disease follows. I have learned to be cautious in believing the diagnosis, but if true, it may mean a significant lifestyle change for me.

For starters, I've been on some pain killers and antibiotics, and I've been given a load of vitamins and supplements I'll have to take. A nutritionist has suggested that I go on an elimination diet for a while to see if anything might be associated with the flare up.

An elimination diet looks like this: no grains, caffeine, sugar, spicy foods, dairy, no vegetable from the nightshade family (potato, tomato, aubergine), onions and garlic are also cautious foods, no sweeteners (my beloved Diet Coke and I will be separated for a while). So basically fruits and vegetables in abundance. Red meat is once a week, fish as often as I like. I eat like this for a few weeks, then I reintroduce something back in and give my tummy and while to respond. I have tried something like this before, and its tough going, but it showed me that me and milk may not be the best of buddies. I'll be interested to see if anything else crops up. The nutritionist has given me permission to eat what I want for now, but I'll be bringing in the diet towards the end of the week.

I've been in a mostly positive head space despite all of this, even if there is a part of my brain that's wondering in a slightly annoyed way why it is, if I have Crohn's, that I haven't seen the speedy weight loss other sufferers report? Remind me to kick myself for even thinking that way.

Anyway, I finally also made it back to the gym. The possible Crohn's disease had brought tenesmus along with for the ride, so I was constantly feeling like I needed to go to the loo. it kind of gets in the way of training. On top of that, my trainer broke his foot, which is kind of ironic given what I did to my toe a couple of weeks ago. So I had a new trainer, which meant a whole raft of new trainer experiences and ways of doing things. It involved lots of free weights as a cardio session. It must of worked. I got to about 45 minutes in when I did what any self respecting person in my situation would do. I fainted. I have never fainted before in my life. I may have scared the new trainer away from me forever. But in my defense, I hadn't really been doing anything for a couple of weeks, and my medication may have also played a role. I'm pretty annoyed, because the exercises weren't that hard, and I don't want for the trainer to think he has to take it really easily and really slowly. We'll see what happens when I see him again. Tomorrow.