Heroic Loon survives first week!

My lord, Matt George said ecstatically, his face swirling in the dark breathless void, youre a marvel, I have never seen anyone transform themselves so suddenly from complete loser to superior athlete. Youre a phenomenon!

Then the alarm clock rang and I struggled to open my sleep-clogged eyes. What a horrendous dream. I dreamed (and you wont believe this) that Id undertaken an eight week daily supervised aerobic training course. As if. Then I looked in my diary. In large black writing I had scribed Day Three gym session with Matt Duke, 7am. Oh God.

I pinched myself. Surely this was just one of those strange night horrors that has been afflicting me of late. The pinch didnt hurt... but only because it was drowned out by the wretched pain gnawing at every other muscle in my body. It was 6am. I looked out at the fog-clad oval outside my house and muttered something unprintable.

Matt Duke or Matt II or M:I:II as Ive decided to call him, is a rugby player, a breakaway. Breakaways are rugbys answer to the perpetual motion machine. In rugby parlance the essential aim of the breakaway is to be first to the break down. A disconcerting idea from my perspective, you must admit. As it turned out my new taskmaster was cruel but fair. And besides, I deserve to suffer. I have been a complete bastard all my life and would just like to say that Im sorry. Very sorry. In fact, you have no idea how sorry I am and how deeply I regret how careless, lazy and wanton Ive been.

M:I:II is quite empathetic and has a subtle and exact understanding of gym techniques plus a thorough knowledge of the line between murder and exercise, which is helpful. And he has already taught me that crunches and curls arent just different kinds of chocolate bars.

Losing weight is like losing an abusive or unfaithful partner; difficult and strangely sad. Like youve lost a part of yourself. So, ever since I started losing weight Ive being going through the five so-called stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and drugs. It is a common misconception that the stages happen in that order, or that everyone goes through them all. I simply jumped to the last stage. And oh no, I dont just mean the pure endorphin rush of exercise, I mean alcohol. I have been getting rather furious for no reason at all ever since, though it could have something to do with the fact I cant actually walk upright without five minutes warm up.

Anyway, youll be happy to know I now feel completely numb, although I have lost two per cent of my body fat. I also have a fair as opposed to poor oxygen consumption rate after just a weeks grievous anguish. Hooray?!

Now for week two the week of the nutritionist. Out with the beer anaesthetic and my friend the chocolate cake and in with the calorie count and the carrot and celery stick regime. Wow, only 50 days to go... wake me up when Im done.


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