I'd like to apologise to my loyal reader for not blogging for ages. There's been a lot going on in my head of late, which has rather occupied me. I can laugh it off now (just about) but at the time I was given a real insight into the misery of potentially serious diagnosis. I also discovered I'm a totally pathetic individual.
Basically, I worked myself up into quite a state over the lump in my neck, and the peculiar sensations in my throat. I went to see the doctor twice - once to be told he felt no unusual lumps or bumps but that he'd set up an ENT appointment for me; twice because despite him saying he felt nothing, I knew there was something there and made the (different) doctor feel it. She said she thought it was a thyroglossal duct cyst, that it was nothing serious and that I shouldn't worry. When I said I'd go private to get it sorted out, she actually phoned me at home to recommend I didn't. As she was 100% certain it wasn't cancer, going private would be extremely expensive and might even give worse care, as there didn't seem to be an ENT specialist in private care in Scotland. She told me to hold out for the NHS appointment at Ninewells. I was reassured - for about 20 minutes. Then my mind went back to believing the absolute worst. Sore throat, a feeling of a large golf ball stuck in it, coupled with the long-term feeling that my singing voice has been compromised, just made me believe there was something more than a thyroglossal cyst. Perhaps I have a thyroglossal cyst because I have cancer, I thought.
Luckily, in a miracle of NHS efficiency, I had only about a week to wait from my second appointment (about 2 from my first). Ninewells called on Monday to say they had a slot available on the Wednesday, which I grasped with both hands. Living in a state of anxiety is not something I do well. It would probably help if I had a structured work life to take my mind off something, but the trouble with being a wastrel is that you have absolutely nothing stopping you from sitting on the sofa, imagining you have only months to live, wasting your day attempting to take your mind off it through the magic of TV and books.
On the Wednesday in question, Fisher took me to the hospital and came into the consultation with me, to make sure I mentioned all my symptoms and was totally reassured. Astonishingly, the appointment was for 2pm, and we were seen at about 2.05. The professor who saw me was the same guy who used to see Fisher when she was a lass, so no lack of experience there!
I told him all my symptoms. He felt my throat where I pointed out the lump, and all round it. He then told me to go and sit on a different chair while he had a look down my throat.
"This is where you stick a lovely tube down my throat, then," I whimpered.
"No no," he assured me. Yay, I thought. "It actually goes up your nose - then down your throat."
"Oh joy," I responded, which made him smile like the devil.
"It's really not so bad," the sympathetic nurse told me. "It'll be over in a jiffy." This reassured me, until she handed me a wad of tissues and added: "You'll need these. It'd make a glass eye cry."
It was far from pleasant, but really only uncomfortable. It wasn't painful or anything. He had a look at the nasal passages, then pushed it deep into my throat (urgle) and had a root around. Eventually he pulled it out (urgle) and said he saw absolutely nothing wrong, apart from a little redness around the trachea. Nor, apparantly, had he felt anything unusual in my throat. Puzzling, as I can clearly feel it - and so could the 2nd doctor. But, hey, he's the pro - and it was great news. He prescribed me some antacids as he thinks I have acid reflux splashes in the throat.
So that was that. He did set up an ultrasound, so the lump isn't completely ignored - but he was sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong. Unfortunately, discomfort in my throat continues today, with the feeling of something stuck at the back of my soft pallate. But I shall take some antihistamines and see if it's hay fever related. It's harvest, after all.
With the throat thing put, if not to bed, then at least down for a nap, I felt a great weight roll from my shoulders. I played a tennis match, racing about like a wild thing, having done no exercise for weeks owing to my inability to inspire myself out of the sitting room. Literally, all I did was sit around and watch the Olympics.
Unfortunately, during the tennis match I felt my lower back 'go'. I was running for a ball when - ping - a sharp pain shot through my hips and lumbar region. Luckily I was 1 game away from winning the match, which I managed to do by smacking the ball without moving my feet at all. I crept back to the car and drove home, stopping at Spar to pick up some baking potatoes for supper. Alas, my attempts at actually getting out of the car failed dismally and I was forced to drive home and sit miserably in the driver's seat until Fisher came and helped me out. Did I feel pathetic? Why, yes I did.
Fisher then departed for Island to take part in the half marathon. I was supposed to be doing my massage course, but with my back in its appalling state there was no way I could manage, so I had to give it a miss. I had an entertaining morning where it took me ages to actually get out of bed - not helped by Bridie deciding the odd noises I was making meant a game and jumping on my chest, flattening me back to the mattress with a howl of agony. I made a swift appointment with the osteo, who gave me the usual elbow-prodding (as in he prodded me with his elbow in my tender joints - he didn't prod my elbow. That would seem pointless. Unlike his elbows) and cracked my vertebrae with his usual energetic charm. It really isn't a pleasant experience - but seeing as it never fails to help, it's definitely worth it. 5 days after the cracking, my back is so much better I actually went for a run in the gym.
Now, it's been over 2 weeks since my last 5k, so I thought I'd take it easy. I put the machine on weight loss and thought I'd try 10 minutes. The weight loss programme starts the run on flat, then puts it up to a gradient of about 3%, then back to flat again. Frankly, I didn't really notice the gradient - but I'm assured it was there. After 10 minutes I noticed that I'd done over 1mile, thanks to the irritating 3 minute warm up at the start, so I decided to finish on 2 miles. I have 6 songs on my iPod's On-The-Go playlist, and at the 2 mile point I'd reached the 4th song - so I thought I'd stop after I'd listened to all 6. Then, of course, at the end of the 6th song I was so close to doing 5k I figured I might as well finish. I did the whole 5k in about 31 1/2 minutes, with a 3 minute walk at the start, and never dropped below a 10 minute mile pace. I was very pleased.
What other news? Not much. Works to the new house have been agreed, and the men will start very soon. They estimate we'll be ready by the 3rd or 4th week in September, which means we're still on track for Janus's footie 'n' food party - if she can round people up and pin them down to a date. Not an easy task.
That's me for a while. Hopefully I'll be more prompt in updating from now on.
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gym. Show all posts
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Quick Update
Went to the gym - miraculously helped to stave off migraine - and did this:
30 mins on bike, cross-country setting (highest level 17 - but only for a few minutes). I left it on the gym setting, rather than ratcheting it up a couple of points, as I usually do, because I wanted to be easy on myself. I wasn't. I worked hard, and did just over 8 miles in the 30 mins, which means an average of 16mph - which I was ok with.
Then went straight to the running machine and ran a mile ... ok, I ran half a mile, then had to stop and stretch out my calves, which were incredibly tight. Then I ran the other half - and did the whole thing in 11.30, which I'll take.
Then did weights. I've finally figured out that the pull down machine does, indeed, go up in 5kg increments, which means the first hole is 15kg. So I did 3 x 12 reps at 35kg (pulling down in front of me, 'cos Phid told me I should) and found it much easier! I must have been doing 40kg before ... which, dammit! means I should continue to do 40kg.
Also did:
3 x 12 bicep curl on 6 (prob 15kg)
2 x 12 chest press, 40kg. Then got bored and hungry, so went home and made a sea bass dish I was quite pleased with, to begin with, but became annoyed over by the end. The fish itself was fine. I stuffed each one with ginger, garlic, red chilli, fresh coriander and parsley, then drizzled them with olive oil, kikkoman and sherry. But to accompany it, I made a sort of vegetable ragout with cumin seeds and paprika, cooked with a tin of tomatoes and port - and it was just a bit wet, and too many flavours. In future I'll leave out the port and paprika. I also did pan fried potatoes, though, and they were good. Followed by strawberries with Elmlea, and a little Kit-Kat. Add my apple, and an orange juice, and I've actually eaten 5 portions of fruit 'n' veg today! Huzzah!
Alas, I got on the scale this morning and despite being rather restrained over the last week, I've lost nary a pound. The ice cream cake is Pro's. I know it.
30 mins on bike, cross-country setting (highest level 17 - but only for a few minutes). I left it on the gym setting, rather than ratcheting it up a couple of points, as I usually do, because I wanted to be easy on myself. I wasn't. I worked hard, and did just over 8 miles in the 30 mins, which means an average of 16mph - which I was ok with.
Then went straight to the running machine and ran a mile ... ok, I ran half a mile, then had to stop and stretch out my calves, which were incredibly tight. Then I ran the other half - and did the whole thing in 11.30, which I'll take.
Then did weights. I've finally figured out that the pull down machine does, indeed, go up in 5kg increments, which means the first hole is 15kg. So I did 3 x 12 reps at 35kg (pulling down in front of me, 'cos Phid told me I should) and found it much easier! I must have been doing 40kg before ... which, dammit! means I should continue to do 40kg.
Also did:
3 x 12 bicep curl on 6 (prob 15kg)
2 x 12 chest press, 40kg. Then got bored and hungry, so went home and made a sea bass dish I was quite pleased with, to begin with, but became annoyed over by the end. The fish itself was fine. I stuffed each one with ginger, garlic, red chilli, fresh coriander and parsley, then drizzled them with olive oil, kikkoman and sherry. But to accompany it, I made a sort of vegetable ragout with cumin seeds and paprika, cooked with a tin of tomatoes and port - and it was just a bit wet, and too many flavours. In future I'll leave out the port and paprika. I also did pan fried potatoes, though, and they were good. Followed by strawberries with Elmlea, and a little Kit-Kat. Add my apple, and an orange juice, and I've actually eaten 5 portions of fruit 'n' veg today! Huzzah!
Alas, I got on the scale this morning and despite being rather restrained over the last week, I've lost nary a pound. The ice cream cake is Pro's. I know it.
Thursday, 10 January 2008
More Exercise, More Recipes
Ok, I don't want to turn into Fanny Craddock here, but I was very proud of my supper tonight. The cupboards are surprisingly bare, considering I recently did a Tesco shop, but I managed to rustle something up that tasted extremely fine. But more of that later. First, the doings of the day.
I started the day by double booking someone for dog-sitting. The poodles, Molly and Ben, are due to come to us next weekend, and a woman phoned to ask if she could book her two mongrels in for Thursday to Saturday. I thought it would mean a single day's cross-over, but then the Poodle Owner phoned to say she would drop them off on Friday morning - meaning two full days with 4 dogs. I asked Poodle Owner what she thought of the arrangement, and she said her big old male dog is getting grumpy in his old age, so she wouldn't be comfortable with it. She did offer to take the dogs with her to see her parents, but I couldn't have that so I had to phone the Mongrel Owner and crawl.
I hate crawling.
Luckily, Mongrel Owner turns out to be lovely. Funnily enough, I thought she was One Of My Ilk when a woman who wasn't her answered the phone and talked about 'their' trip. Ha! thought I. So Fisher and I aren't the only Hell-Bound in Scotland. Then, when I phoned again and got Mongrel Owner, it transpired that the woman staying with her was just a friend ... but she turned out to have a be-boobed partner anyway. Huh! Fancy that.
Actually, we had a nice chat about the weather, as you do. She's an American, and was bemoaning the misery of it all.
"It's got to brighten up soon, right?" she asked, pleadingly. "I mean ... just a little?"
"First time in Scotland?" I said sympathetically, to which she agreed. "Well, you may well find yourself in for a long haul," I told her, thus crushing her poor, shivering spirit. Dammit. This is why I never became a counsellor. Still, I don't know what she was complaining about. There was a full 30 minutes of sunshine over Guardbridge today. I know because I could see it out of my window, through the snow.
Seriously, though - I agree. If we don't get some clear, sunny, crisp weather soon I may just have a little tantrum.
Once I'd managed to sort the dog situation out, thanks to Mongrel Owner being incredibly understanding and not giving me the earful I deserved, I turned my thoughts to more serious things - like finding a nice wee cottage in the country for Phid, who's moving soon.
5 hours later ...
There ARE no nice cottages in the country. Seriously. There isn't a single one on the market - at least, not in Clackmannanshire, Stirlingshire, Perthshire, or any other Shire. I sent off 3 pathetic offerings that may or may not suit as a stop-gap - and then went to the gym with Fisher.
Hurrah! The running machines were free.
Hurroo. That meant I had no excuse not to use one. I did a few weights to warm up before hopping on:
3 x 12 pull down, 35kg. Sort of. Doing it at the front means I use my back too much, and not my arms, so I think I'll have to admit defeat, put it on 30kg and acknowledge that Phid has superior strength in this. Bless her little pint-sized muscularity. I swear, I'd pick her up and cuddle her for being so mighty, if I didn't think a) it would freak us both out, being non-demonstrative types and b) she would then snap me in half with a smooth, pull-down motion.
3 x 12 bicep curl, 30kg
Then came the run. I managed 5k in 32 minutes dead. I'm not sure, but this might be my fastest 5k to date, and it fair knocked my socks off. I'd forgotten to eat anything since breakfast, so the muffin with honey I'd had all those hours ago gave me scant fuel. (I've just checked back over the ol' blog, and while I didn't find out whether I've done a faster one, I did discover that the last time I did a 33 minute 5k - outside - I'd also not eaten anything. Maybe I need to be as empty as possible, relying on burning my ample fat stores for sustenance and the fact I'm a couple of pounds lighter than normal and can therefore haul myself around the course just that little bit faster?
Hm. I doubt it. Also, I thought I was going to faint at one point and had to drop right down to 5.1 mph - just as a bloke got on the treadmill next to me, glanced over and adopted an expression of such scorn I felt like vomiting on his shoes. He must have looked at me as we looked at those old women t'other day. Still, those old women didn't have faces the colour of stewed beetroot and sweat dripping between their bazoongas.
5k completed, I then did another 12 on the pull down machine, this time at 30kg. Then I did:
1 x 12 chest press, 35kg
2 x 12 chest press, 40kg - although I had to do 6 & 6 for the last set of reps, with a short pause to catch my breath.
1 x 12 leg curl, 50kg, followed by another 6. I just couldn't get comfortable on the bloody thing - plus, I was really bored by now.
3 x 12 horizontal leg lift, 110 kg. Better. Fisher 'spotted' me for the last 12, which helped.
So that was that. Pleased with ourselves for a good workout, we headed home to feed the pooches - and ourselves.
The only thing we had in the fridge was a pack of venison sausages, which Fisher pooh-poohed as we'd had venison so recently, and some smoked salmon. As it was my turn to cook, I ransacked the fridge and cupboards and came up with this recipe:
Savoury Pancakes with Smoked Salmon and Creamy Salsa
1. Make some pancake mix with half plain, half self raising flour. Add sprinkling of pepper. Leave to stand, 20 mins.
2. Peel and chop 4 medium tomatoes.
3. Peel and chop 2 spring onions.
4. Cook up the ol' tomatoes and onions in a saucepan. Add teaspoon green peppercorns in brine.
5. Grate 50g cheddar. Add to tomatoes.
6. Add quick slosh of cream. Not too much, as you don't want it to be too wet. Stir until a sauce.
7. Keep the salsa warm as you cook up the pancakes in a large frying pan. When each pancake is done, line it with smoked salmon, pour over half the salsa on each, fold the pancake and serve.
Yummy. It was good - and much more filling than I thought it would be.
Which, full-bellied, brings me to this point. Fisher wants an early night tonight, as she slept in like the lazy tart she is, this morning. Tomorrow, Chopper arrives for weekend fun. Looking forward to it very much! It's been ages since we saw her.
I started the day by double booking someone for dog-sitting. The poodles, Molly and Ben, are due to come to us next weekend, and a woman phoned to ask if she could book her two mongrels in for Thursday to Saturday. I thought it would mean a single day's cross-over, but then the Poodle Owner phoned to say she would drop them off on Friday morning - meaning two full days with 4 dogs. I asked Poodle Owner what she thought of the arrangement, and she said her big old male dog is getting grumpy in his old age, so she wouldn't be comfortable with it. She did offer to take the dogs with her to see her parents, but I couldn't have that so I had to phone the Mongrel Owner and crawl.
I hate crawling.
Luckily, Mongrel Owner turns out to be lovely. Funnily enough, I thought she was One Of My Ilk when a woman who wasn't her answered the phone and talked about 'their' trip. Ha! thought I. So Fisher and I aren't the only Hell-Bound in Scotland. Then, when I phoned again and got Mongrel Owner, it transpired that the woman staying with her was just a friend ... but she turned out to have a be-boobed partner anyway. Huh! Fancy that.
Actually, we had a nice chat about the weather, as you do. She's an American, and was bemoaning the misery of it all.
"It's got to brighten up soon, right?" she asked, pleadingly. "I mean ... just a little?"
"First time in Scotland?" I said sympathetically, to which she agreed. "Well, you may well find yourself in for a long haul," I told her, thus crushing her poor, shivering spirit. Dammit. This is why I never became a counsellor. Still, I don't know what she was complaining about. There was a full 30 minutes of sunshine over Guardbridge today. I know because I could see it out of my window, through the snow.
Seriously, though - I agree. If we don't get some clear, sunny, crisp weather soon I may just have a little tantrum.
Once I'd managed to sort the dog situation out, thanks to Mongrel Owner being incredibly understanding and not giving me the earful I deserved, I turned my thoughts to more serious things - like finding a nice wee cottage in the country for Phid, who's moving soon.
5 hours later ...
There ARE no nice cottages in the country. Seriously. There isn't a single one on the market - at least, not in Clackmannanshire, Stirlingshire, Perthshire, or any other Shire. I sent off 3 pathetic offerings that may or may not suit as a stop-gap - and then went to the gym with Fisher.
Hurrah! The running machines were free.
Hurroo. That meant I had no excuse not to use one. I did a few weights to warm up before hopping on:
3 x 12 pull down, 35kg. Sort of. Doing it at the front means I use my back too much, and not my arms, so I think I'll have to admit defeat, put it on 30kg and acknowledge that Phid has superior strength in this. Bless her little pint-sized muscularity. I swear, I'd pick her up and cuddle her for being so mighty, if I didn't think a) it would freak us both out, being non-demonstrative types and b) she would then snap me in half with a smooth, pull-down motion.
3 x 12 bicep curl, 30kg
Then came the run. I managed 5k in 32 minutes dead. I'm not sure, but this might be my fastest 5k to date, and it fair knocked my socks off. I'd forgotten to eat anything since breakfast, so the muffin with honey I'd had all those hours ago gave me scant fuel. (I've just checked back over the ol' blog, and while I didn't find out whether I've done a faster one, I did discover that the last time I did a 33 minute 5k - outside - I'd also not eaten anything. Maybe I need to be as empty as possible, relying on burning my ample fat stores for sustenance and the fact I'm a couple of pounds lighter than normal and can therefore haul myself around the course just that little bit faster?
Hm. I doubt it. Also, I thought I was going to faint at one point and had to drop right down to 5.1 mph - just as a bloke got on the treadmill next to me, glanced over and adopted an expression of such scorn I felt like vomiting on his shoes. He must have looked at me as we looked at those old women t'other day. Still, those old women didn't have faces the colour of stewed beetroot and sweat dripping between their bazoongas.
5k completed, I then did another 12 on the pull down machine, this time at 30kg. Then I did:
1 x 12 chest press, 35kg
2 x 12 chest press, 40kg - although I had to do 6 & 6 for the last set of reps, with a short pause to catch my breath.
1 x 12 leg curl, 50kg, followed by another 6. I just couldn't get comfortable on the bloody thing - plus, I was really bored by now.
3 x 12 horizontal leg lift, 110 kg. Better. Fisher 'spotted' me for the last 12, which helped.
So that was that. Pleased with ourselves for a good workout, we headed home to feed the pooches - and ourselves.
The only thing we had in the fridge was a pack of venison sausages, which Fisher pooh-poohed as we'd had venison so recently, and some smoked salmon. As it was my turn to cook, I ransacked the fridge and cupboards and came up with this recipe:
Savoury Pancakes with Smoked Salmon and Creamy Salsa
1. Make some pancake mix with half plain, half self raising flour. Add sprinkling of pepper. Leave to stand, 20 mins.
2. Peel and chop 4 medium tomatoes.
3. Peel and chop 2 spring onions.
4. Cook up the ol' tomatoes and onions in a saucepan. Add teaspoon green peppercorns in brine.
5. Grate 50g cheddar. Add to tomatoes.
6. Add quick slosh of cream. Not too much, as you don't want it to be too wet. Stir until a sauce.
7. Keep the salsa warm as you cook up the pancakes in a large frying pan. When each pancake is done, line it with smoked salmon, pour over half the salsa on each, fold the pancake and serve.
Yummy. It was good - and much more filling than I thought it would be.
Which, full-bellied, brings me to this point. Fisher wants an early night tonight, as she slept in like the lazy tart she is, this morning. Tomorrow, Chopper arrives for weekend fun. Looking forward to it very much! It's been ages since we saw her.
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Feffing Gym!
So, there I was, all geared up for an hour's sesh in the gym - and what do I discover? It's shutting half an hour after we get there. Think I was miffed? You should have seen Fisher's face. I seriously thought she was going to lamp the girl at the till.
Anyway, we trotted in, already amending our schedules to fit with 30 minutes, when what do we discover? The ruddy place is packed to the rafters with the elderly! Now, seeing as I'm a member of a tennis club where the average age is about 50 and I'm routinely thrashed up and down the court, I don't like to prejudice against people for their age. I'm very willing to acknowledge there are many, many older folks who would laugh in my face when it comes to fitness.
Alas, these weren't some of them.
If you think Fisher was cross before, you should have seen her when she set eyes on the treadmills and saw them all taken up by yammering, gossipping walkers! There was one woman in particular who was barely strolling, chatting non-stop with her neighbour, and certainly wasn't actually exercising in any way. Both Fisher and I kept staring at her, wondering if there was some injury she was rehabilitating - but if there was, it was completely invisible. Nor did she look like she was recovering from surgery or anything. And she was on the treadmill the whole time, squawking like a cockatoo and never getting above a slow plod. I could have throttled her, and I could see Fisher eyeing the scales, thinking how satisfying it would be to thwack her repeatedly about the head with them.
So, unable to use the treadmill, I concentrated on weights instead. I have Phid to thank for giving me a kick up the backside by sheer example. She said she does 32.5kg on the pull down weight - and there am I, feeling dead chuffed if I manage 25kg. Considering she's about half the size of me, I'm pretty sure this reveals a laziness in me that deserves expunging. So this is what I did today:
3 x 12 reps on stomach crunching machine, 100kg
3 x 12 reps on bicep curl, 30kg
3 x 12 reps on pull-down, 35kg (I did it the Phid way, pulling down in front of my chest rather than onto the back of my shoulders - don't think it was much easier, if at all). Fuck ME it hurt!
3 x 12 on lat machine, 35kg
3 x 12 reps on horizontal leg lift, 100kg - which was hard this time. I don't know why.
I finished off with 1o minutes on the bike, hill setting, which took me 2.7 miles - which makes an overall speed of 16.2 mph (right?). To be honest, I can't really tell much difference between the bike on level 18 and on level 20. Either the machine doesn't work properly or, by that stage I'm in so much pain I can barely register any external stimuli at all. (I actually think it's the latter).
I then came home and got lost in Civilisation III, where I was busy wiping the Japanese off the face of the planet, and forgot to cook dinner. A plaintive yowling came from next door just as I was heading off for my long overdue bath, and Fisher came into the bathroom looking all big-eyed and sorrowful, clutching her tummy. Naturally, faced with such a pathetic sight I cut short the old bath and rustled something up with venison.
My Rustled Up Venison
I fried some sliced, new potatoes in about 2 tbsps olive oil, with some fresh thyme, salt and pepper. They kept sticking to the pan, so I had to be vigilant. 10 minutes before it was all ready, I added some green beans to the potatoes and fried them up as well.
Meanwhile, in a second pan I put shallots, crushed garlic, mushrooms, a good slosh of port, and what was supposed to be a light sprinkling of rosemary but turned out to be a great cascade of the bloody stuff thanks to my dodgy wrist. I'll leave out the rosemary in future - unless I use fresh stuff. I reduced the port until it all became an accompanying sauce, then fried up the venison medallions - 3 minutes total.
I actually thought it was going to be a total disaster. Everything started burning at once, then there was the rosemary incident, the potatoes were sticking like bastards ... but it all worked out in the end, and is a very tasty, quick, easy dish to make. It was probably about 20 minutes, start to finish.
Just in case you're interested ...
Anyway, we trotted in, already amending our schedules to fit with 30 minutes, when what do we discover? The ruddy place is packed to the rafters with the elderly! Now, seeing as I'm a member of a tennis club where the average age is about 50 and I'm routinely thrashed up and down the court, I don't like to prejudice against people for their age. I'm very willing to acknowledge there are many, many older folks who would laugh in my face when it comes to fitness.
Alas, these weren't some of them.
If you think Fisher was cross before, you should have seen her when she set eyes on the treadmills and saw them all taken up by yammering, gossipping walkers! There was one woman in particular who was barely strolling, chatting non-stop with her neighbour, and certainly wasn't actually exercising in any way. Both Fisher and I kept staring at her, wondering if there was some injury she was rehabilitating - but if there was, it was completely invisible. Nor did she look like she was recovering from surgery or anything. And she was on the treadmill the whole time, squawking like a cockatoo and never getting above a slow plod. I could have throttled her, and I could see Fisher eyeing the scales, thinking how satisfying it would be to thwack her repeatedly about the head with them.
So, unable to use the treadmill, I concentrated on weights instead. I have Phid to thank for giving me a kick up the backside by sheer example. She said she does 32.5kg on the pull down weight - and there am I, feeling dead chuffed if I manage 25kg. Considering she's about half the size of me, I'm pretty sure this reveals a laziness in me that deserves expunging. So this is what I did today:
3 x 12 reps on stomach crunching machine, 100kg
3 x 12 reps on bicep curl, 30kg
3 x 12 reps on pull-down, 35kg (I did it the Phid way, pulling down in front of my chest rather than onto the back of my shoulders - don't think it was much easier, if at all). Fuck ME it hurt!
3 x 12 on lat machine, 35kg
3 x 12 reps on horizontal leg lift, 100kg - which was hard this time. I don't know why.
I finished off with 1o minutes on the bike, hill setting, which took me 2.7 miles - which makes an overall speed of 16.2 mph (right?). To be honest, I can't really tell much difference between the bike on level 18 and on level 20. Either the machine doesn't work properly or, by that stage I'm in so much pain I can barely register any external stimuli at all. (I actually think it's the latter).
I then came home and got lost in Civilisation III, where I was busy wiping the Japanese off the face of the planet, and forgot to cook dinner. A plaintive yowling came from next door just as I was heading off for my long overdue bath, and Fisher came into the bathroom looking all big-eyed and sorrowful, clutching her tummy. Naturally, faced with such a pathetic sight I cut short the old bath and rustled something up with venison.
My Rustled Up Venison
I fried some sliced, new potatoes in about 2 tbsps olive oil, with some fresh thyme, salt and pepper. They kept sticking to the pan, so I had to be vigilant. 10 minutes before it was all ready, I added some green beans to the potatoes and fried them up as well.
Meanwhile, in a second pan I put shallots, crushed garlic, mushrooms, a good slosh of port, and what was supposed to be a light sprinkling of rosemary but turned out to be a great cascade of the bloody stuff thanks to my dodgy wrist. I'll leave out the rosemary in future - unless I use fresh stuff. I reduced the port until it all became an accompanying sauce, then fried up the venison medallions - 3 minutes total.
I actually thought it was going to be a total disaster. Everything started burning at once, then there was the rosemary incident, the potatoes were sticking like bastards ... but it all worked out in the end, and is a very tasty, quick, easy dish to make. It was probably about 20 minutes, start to finish.
Just in case you're interested ...
Saturday, 15 December 2007
Song 'n' Stuff
A quick update:
I went to the gym and couldn't face running, so did 30 mins on the bike, on hill - which turned out to be 8 miles ... nearly. I ran over in order to complete the distance, but only by about a minute - if that. I did a fast half mile on the treadmill, then weights.
3 x 12 reps on the pully-down thing, 30kg
3 x 12 reps bicep curler, 25kg
3 x 12 reps on the chest pressy thing (where you push out from a sitting position), either 25 or 30kg, can't remember.
To make up for all this nonsense, I then ate a whole 175g bag of Maltesers, and felt sick. Shame, as it rather spoiled Fisher's delicious Teriyaki Chicken. I really must stop doing that. I think having regular meals would help. At the moment I forget to eat, and am then SO hungry at the end of the day I scarf down anything I can get my hands on.
Ok - boring stuff out of the way. On to ... er ... more boring stuff.
Nay! For we went out! Yes indeed, a few nights ago Fisher and I donned our glad rags (more emphasis on the rags than the glad) and headed off to Edinburgh for a wine tasting at Sideways, followed by dinner at Calistoga with The Clan. It was muckle good craic, as they say round these parts. Although, I have to say, the guy giving us the wine tasting was a class 1 knob. He decided, apropos of very little, to display a bizarre desire to spout his disapproval of some Jewish people who phoned up the v posh Witchery restaurant to request Kosher food. The Witchery then had to send out to Glasgow for said Kosher nosh, which seemed to displease this fellow very much. The cheek of it! To request Kosher food! Don't these Jewish folk know they should be grateful just to be allowed to eat in Britain? King John expelled them all, and yet here they are, eating food and behaving as if nothing ever happened!
Ok, he wasn't that bad, but it did take the biscuit when he said:
"It's just my opinion but I think people are stupid like that. I mean, if it's a case of starving or eating non Kosher food, which one will you choose?"
We all stared at our feet, thinking "who said anything about starving? Who, if on borderline starvation, would be eating at the Witchery?"
He then went on to say:
"I don't see, if God exists, which I don't believe he does - " yeah, no shit " - why he'd have a problem with you eating non Kosher if it was a matter of life or death. I mean, unless you believed in some real Old Testament type God, or something."
I shit thee not, readers. He actually said this, with a proper scoff in his voice. When we pointed out, not unreasonably, that Jewish people ... er ... like, did believe in a 'real Old Testament type God' he attempted to back track, failed and, upon realising that we were all getting distinctly uncomfortable, said defiantly:
"Oh, are my views too strident for you?"
I think Barry managed to switch the topic of conversation admirably at this point, which was exceedingly good of him because I was a hair's breadth away from saying:
"Not too strident. Just pig ignorant - and quite offensive."
This would not have been a good idea. Luckily, danger was averted, we returned to swilling Californian vino (the best of the bunch being a St Francis Cabernet Sauv - who'd a thunk it? I generally dislike cabernet) and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We then went next door for nosh at Calistoga (food good, options limited), gave Wheeler his birthday pressies, and all was most convivial.
Aside from this sojourn, I've been extraordinarily lazy this week. I've been revisiting Prince of Persia: The Warrior Within on PS2, and it's such a beautiful, atmospheric and thoroughly engrossing game! A real work of art - although I have to say, the fighting is extremely frustrating. There are just too many combinations to learn, so you end up button mashing - which I hate. On the whole, though, it's one of the best games ever made. Not quite as good as God of War, but right up there.
The other thing I've done is write a song - and embark on the next volume of Las Amazonicas. For those reading who don't know, Las Amazonicas is a book what I writted, with all my pals taking the lead roles. It's set in the 16th century, on the high seas - because it was written for Koios's Christmas present a few years ago, and that's the sort of thing she likes. Considering I know bog-all about 16th century sea-faring, it was a bit of a challenge (although not really. I just made it up). This volume continues the adventures of the all-woman crew of dastardly pirates. Considering I've been writing it for only a few hours, and have nearly 40 pages, it could turn out to be rather ... ah ... epic. Also, I had one - just one - idea to work into the plot. Alas, as usual, my friends turn out to have minds of their own, so I find the crew of Las Amazonicas quite on the other side of the world to where I wish them to be, embroiled in quite a different adventure.
So, yes. It's going to be a long 'un.
Lastly, I wrote a song. The tune is rubbish. I'm not happy with it at all, so I'm going to start again tomorrow. The lyrics are ok, though - but I can't think of a decent title. Therefore I'm going to write them down here, and hope one of you three readers can come up with something marvellous. I'm next to useless at naming things.
Here it is:
Yes, I know some of it doesn't quite scan - but that's the beauty of music: you can let the tune bear the rhythm, and as long as your words aren't too squashed it works fine. (Yes, I'm also aware than 'kings' and 'things' is bollocks, but sod off. I've never been a particularly good poet, so leave me alone.)
Tomorrow, dogs arrive - as do Kois and Pro and Blarney and Spartan, for a weekend's chilling. I'm taking the fellas out for supper with my winnings from the Croatia game (and the extra winnings for me being a clever sausage and putting a fiver on Capello to become next England manager. Damn me for not making it a tenner!) so we can have a jolly good moan about our lot. Those not interested in the footie are remaining at home to - I dunno - crochet or something. I'm v much looking forward to it!
Will let you know how it goes.
I went to the gym and couldn't face running, so did 30 mins on the bike, on hill - which turned out to be 8 miles ... nearly. I ran over in order to complete the distance, but only by about a minute - if that. I did a fast half mile on the treadmill, then weights.
3 x 12 reps on the pully-down thing, 30kg
3 x 12 reps bicep curler, 25kg
3 x 12 reps on the chest pressy thing (where you push out from a sitting position), either 25 or 30kg, can't remember.
To make up for all this nonsense, I then ate a whole 175g bag of Maltesers, and felt sick. Shame, as it rather spoiled Fisher's delicious Teriyaki Chicken. I really must stop doing that. I think having regular meals would help. At the moment I forget to eat, and am then SO hungry at the end of the day I scarf down anything I can get my hands on.
Ok - boring stuff out of the way. On to ... er ... more boring stuff.
Nay! For we went out! Yes indeed, a few nights ago Fisher and I donned our glad rags (more emphasis on the rags than the glad) and headed off to Edinburgh for a wine tasting at Sideways, followed by dinner at Calistoga with The Clan. It was muckle good craic, as they say round these parts. Although, I have to say, the guy giving us the wine tasting was a class 1 knob. He decided, apropos of very little, to display a bizarre desire to spout his disapproval of some Jewish people who phoned up the v posh Witchery restaurant to request Kosher food. The Witchery then had to send out to Glasgow for said Kosher nosh, which seemed to displease this fellow very much. The cheek of it! To request Kosher food! Don't these Jewish folk know they should be grateful just to be allowed to eat in Britain? King John expelled them all, and yet here they are, eating food and behaving as if nothing ever happened!
Ok, he wasn't that bad, but it did take the biscuit when he said:
"It's just my opinion but I think people are stupid like that. I mean, if it's a case of starving or eating non Kosher food, which one will you choose?"
We all stared at our feet, thinking "who said anything about starving? Who, if on borderline starvation, would be eating at the Witchery?"
He then went on to say:
"I don't see, if God exists, which I don't believe he does - " yeah, no shit " - why he'd have a problem with you eating non Kosher if it was a matter of life or death. I mean, unless you believed in some real Old Testament type God, or something."
I shit thee not, readers. He actually said this, with a proper scoff in his voice. When we pointed out, not unreasonably, that Jewish people ... er ... like, did believe in a 'real Old Testament type God' he attempted to back track, failed and, upon realising that we were all getting distinctly uncomfortable, said defiantly:
"Oh, are my views too strident for you?"
I think Barry managed to switch the topic of conversation admirably at this point, which was exceedingly good of him because I was a hair's breadth away from saying:
"Not too strident. Just pig ignorant - and quite offensive."
This would not have been a good idea. Luckily, danger was averted, we returned to swilling Californian vino (the best of the bunch being a St Francis Cabernet Sauv - who'd a thunk it? I generally dislike cabernet) and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We then went next door for nosh at Calistoga (food good, options limited), gave Wheeler his birthday pressies, and all was most convivial.
Aside from this sojourn, I've been extraordinarily lazy this week. I've been revisiting Prince of Persia: The Warrior Within on PS2, and it's such a beautiful, atmospheric and thoroughly engrossing game! A real work of art - although I have to say, the fighting is extremely frustrating. There are just too many combinations to learn, so you end up button mashing - which I hate. On the whole, though, it's one of the best games ever made. Not quite as good as God of War, but right up there.
The other thing I've done is write a song - and embark on the next volume of Las Amazonicas. For those reading who don't know, Las Amazonicas is a book what I writted, with all my pals taking the lead roles. It's set in the 16th century, on the high seas - because it was written for Koios's Christmas present a few years ago, and that's the sort of thing she likes. Considering I know bog-all about 16th century sea-faring, it was a bit of a challenge (although not really. I just made it up). This volume continues the adventures of the all-woman crew of dastardly pirates. Considering I've been writing it for only a few hours, and have nearly 40 pages, it could turn out to be rather ... ah ... epic. Also, I had one - just one - idea to work into the plot. Alas, as usual, my friends turn out to have minds of their own, so I find the crew of Las Amazonicas quite on the other side of the world to where I wish them to be, embroiled in quite a different adventure.
So, yes. It's going to be a long 'un.
Lastly, I wrote a song. The tune is rubbish. I'm not happy with it at all, so I'm going to start again tomorrow. The lyrics are ok, though - but I can't think of a decent title. Therefore I'm going to write them down here, and hope one of you three readers can come up with something marvellous. I'm next to useless at naming things.
Here it is:
As Yet Untitled Song
The world's a broken playground
A carnival of dreams
With a troupe of strutting players
Painted fools behind the scenes
We all want the limelight
Solo dance across the floor
But we scratch amongst the chorus
Hungry wolves with blunted claws
Chorus
Every part we play is minor
Even presidents and kings
And our dreams are just a footnote
In the grandest scheme of things
We want to leave our mark here
When the darkness takes the light
But like children clutching inkwells
We've the tools but cannot write
We're a cast with no direction
With an audience of ghosts
And the stories we're declaming
A compendium of boasts
(Chorus)
Take me to the river
Wash me clean and make me whole
For this theatre of shadows
Leaves a stain upon my soul
Let me see the final curtain
In the footlights, not the lists
With no shame in my performace
No regret for lines I've missed
The world's a broken playground
A carnival of dreams
With a troupe of strutting players
Painted fools behind the scenes
We all want the limelight
Solo dance across the floor
But we scratch amongst the chorus
Hungry wolves with blunted claws
Chorus
Every part we play is minor
Even presidents and kings
And our dreams are just a footnote
In the grandest scheme of things
We want to leave our mark here
When the darkness takes the light
But like children clutching inkwells
We've the tools but cannot write
We're a cast with no direction
With an audience of ghosts
And the stories we're declaming
A compendium of boasts
(Chorus)
Take me to the river
Wash me clean and make me whole
For this theatre of shadows
Leaves a stain upon my soul
Let me see the final curtain
In the footlights, not the lists
With no shame in my performace
No regret for lines I've missed
Yes, I know some of it doesn't quite scan - but that's the beauty of music: you can let the tune bear the rhythm, and as long as your words aren't too squashed it works fine. (Yes, I'm also aware than 'kings' and 'things' is bollocks, but sod off. I've never been a particularly good poet, so leave me alone.)
Tomorrow, dogs arrive - as do Kois and Pro and Blarney and Spartan, for a weekend's chilling. I'm taking the fellas out for supper with my winnings from the Croatia game (and the extra winnings for me being a clever sausage and putting a fiver on Capello to become next England manager. Damn me for not making it a tenner!) so we can have a jolly good moan about our lot. Those not interested in the footie are remaining at home to - I dunno - crochet or something. I'm v much looking forward to it!
Will let you know how it goes.
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