My Headspace Needs an Interior Designer

Eurovision result was a bit disappointing, wasn't it?  Where were the spangly gays and sexed up "traditional" costumes that I've come to expect and love?  If it weren't for this parody by the presenters, I'd have had a right cob on:

Amazing.  Actually amazing.

Only fault I can find with it is that I now get the lyric "and a man in a hamster wheel!" popping into my head at inopportune moments.

Other stuff has happened in the ENTIRE MONTH I've not blogged (oops).  I made this clever decision:

 

Sheet saan!

My thought process went something along the lines of

 "I've recently watched the London marathon and quite fancy being able to tell people that I've run two full marathons in my lifetime.  I have less free time than I used to and my weird, ankle/foot pain thing never totally went away.  It's blatantly a terrible idea to train for another, but if I get a place via the ballot, it's obviously meant to be and will be super easy and fun silly times because marathons are famous for how easy they are. Yup, this is sensible!" 

I'm not entirely certain what I want the outcome to be.  My fate is in Richard Branson's hands.  He seems to largely know what he's doing, so I'm hopeful that he won't fuck me over.  Good old Ritchy B.

Another thing that's happened is that I've largely been stressed.  Nothing major, just that underlying, anxious buzz that comes not having enough hours in the day or enough metaphorical hands to juggle...life...stuff with...like a...ah, I'm sure I had a good metaphor to start with there but it's gone now.  Take my word for it that it was insightful and wittily creative, 'kay?  Usually, I just let the stress build up into a grand crescendo, where I bite the heads off anyone with in a 3 mile radius of me for a few days and then break down sobbing when A asks me to put the kettle on because I CAN'T DO EVERYTHING, OKAY?!!  I took a different approach this time.  I invested in a meditation app called Headspace.

If you've not heard of it, it's basically a collection of 10-20 minute sessions, where a nice sounding chap called Andy guides you through various mental exercises that help you learn to chill out and see your emotions from a different perspective.  He sets you up in the bird watching shed in your brain and lets you objectively watch the greater spotted tit that is your emotional self from a distance.  I've been doing it for about 20 days on the trot now, and I do feel a bit more rational and less like I'm going to set fire to my head and aggressively do the Macarena round my local Tesco in my pants.  Whether it's giving me a better perspective on things remains to be seen, but it is nice sitting still for a little chunk of day and just being for a bit.  It's essentially napping without napping.  Okay, sometimes it turns into napping.

Using Headspace has taught me a few things.  One of which is that proper relaxation is so alien to me that whenever I open my eyes at the end of a session, I feel like I've been mildly roofied and it takes me a while to come back to reality.  Another is that I'm completely incapable of counting up to ten with my eyes shut without my brain going off on a little holiday of its own accord.  Here are some thoughts I recall from a few of these trips down the rabbit hole of my head:

1.  My nose is itchy.  Am I allowed to scratch, or does that lose me zen points? Okay, ignore it.  Do not think about the itchy nose.  Think instead about the...why is my head itchy now?  Am I being devoured by fleas?  OH MY GOD, MY SKIN IS TURNING INSIDE OUT AND I WILL DIE OF DISCOMFORT, I HAVE TO SCRATCH!! I scratched.  I have let myself and nice Andy man down.  I will never reach Nirvana.

2.  "...Here we are now, entertain uuuus..."

3.  I really should learn more than one line to that "I took a pill in Ibiza song."  Drives me batshit hearing one line over and over again in my head.

4. "I took a pill in Eeebeeetha...."

5.  Someone is watching me.  Mustn't open my eyes. Concentrate.  Concentrate.  But what if A has a camera and he posts me doing this on Facebook? Maybe just take a peek...okay, we're good.  One breath, two breaths...okay, someone is definitely watching me now.

6.  Did I just fall asleep?  I definitely blacked out for at least a minute there.

7.  One, two, banana, three, four, suitcase, nine, six, trombone, one... Wait, what?

Bongos.  Is it normal to discover the fountain bit of the intro from Friends waiting behind your eyelids when you shut your eyes?  I haven't watched Friends for months.  Hee.  Friends.

9.  Oh my God, I've just had such a good idea for a novel!

Chihuahua.  What was my idea again?  How have I forgotten it?  I thought of it eight seconds ago!

1.  I should totally spend my savings for a house on another tattoo.  It's an investment. 

2.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, oh my God, I made it up to seven without losing my train of thought, I'm so proud of myself!  I'm gonna have a really nice snack after this to celebrate with jam on and... ahh bollocks!! One, two...

Spacehopper.  "I took a pill in Eebeeeeetha...dobeedobee dooo de doo de doo..."

4.  "...AND A MAN IN A HAMSTER WHEEL!"

Yeah, I think I might need a bit more practice before I become a superhero ninja monk , but at least I no longer want to bash myself over the head with a frying pan like I'm playing both of the lead characters in Bottom.  I'm off to Google song lyrics now for my own sanity.

Love love, peace peace.

Come to the Wrong Side. We Have Cookies.

Oh my lawd.  It's the weekend.  Sort of.  I still have to work a teeny tiny pretend shift on Saturday, but I'm relieved to be seeing a chunk of leisure time on the horizon at least.  It's not been a bad week as such.  Just a never ending merry-go-round of minor, avoidable mishaps.  For about one week in every four, I'll have one of these stints where every boiling hot coffee I make ends up more on my knees than in my mouth, and I turn up to work only to realise that I've got my underwear on backwards.  Not inside out.  Backwards.  I knew I hadn't put a thong on this morning!  

Tomorrow, resident man-boy is going on a night out and I'm excited to have the house to myself.  On a Saturday night, I plan to sit in my PJ's on the sofa, (where am less likely to encounter corners and things that I can trip over) watching 500 Days of Summer despite the fact that I know it back to front.  Much like my pants.  

Realising that the above (500 Days and a night of heavenly hermitude, not wearing underwear wrong) is my idea of a glorious Saturday night surprises me.  Only two or three years ago, I would be necking JagerBombs in panic at even the idea of having to spend a weekend *gasp* indoors(!).  

People sometimes casually drop the idea of being "the wrong side of [insert age here]" into conversation, which is stupid, because how can any age be wrong unless you're terrible at counting? However, I'm recently starting to see a noticeable difference between pre and post 25 me.  I wouldn't say I'm on the "wrong" side of 25, but I'm certainly on the comfier one.  I am going to document some differences between pre and post 25 year old me, because post 25 year me likes documenting things and lists.  Excuse me while I push my invisible spectacles up my nose:

Hang Overs

Pre 25: Hits pubs at every available opportunity (i.e "night time"), soldiers on through work four hours after last "sesh" ended with a bit of a headache and maybe a slightly more intense craving for McDonalds chicken nuggets than normal.  Worth it.

Post 25:  Still suffering the after effects of one night out that happened several days ago.  No amount of burgers and milkshakes can appease her.  Hates everyone.  Is never drinking again.  Wants another milkshake.  GET HER A MILKSHAKE!

Sleep

Pre 25:  Can get by on a few hours.  Bit grumpy, but will live.

Post 25:  No one who dares cross her path after less than seven hours' sleep will live.  You have been warned.

Emotions

Pre 25:  "I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS THAT I EVEN HAVE MULTIPLE COMPLEX FEELINGS ABOUT THE FEELINGS!!!!!

.....FEELINGS!!!!!!!!" 

Post 25:  "Something doesn't feel quite right inside.  Must be hungry."

Exercise

Pre 25:  Considers "dancing" (i.e flapping arms higher in the air to music with each drink) enough to burn off excess energy.  Also lifting heavy bricks of cheese to face is excellent weight training.  With this much calcium intake combined with all the lifting, am never going to get osteoperosis.  Hurrah!

Post 26:  Requires daily sweat-fest of some variety in order not to go ferile.  Bit like a dog.  Requires regular walkies and enjoys finding out new stuff that can accomplish with own body all the time.  Still enjoys flappy-arm drunk dancing, but not as solid a staple to exercise routine as once was.  Mostly because has to wedge feet into silly high heels to carry out activity.  Heels are silly. Wants cheese brick.  Mmm, cheese brick.

 

Example of what body can accomplish #1:  Becky prepares to lift the moon.

Self Image

Pre 25:  Is convinced that own body is betraying self by visually screaming its own flaws in poor onlookers' faces.  Spends inordinate amount of time hoping that no one notices how many things are wrong with own appearance and that dying hair a different colour every month will help to achieve this.

Post 25:  More concerned with what body can do (marathon/lift stuff over own head/open  jars to unlock gherkins and chilli peppers) than how it looks.  Occasionally disturbed, but mostly just amused at how funny looking self can be from certain angles, but would feel weird if suddenly had perfectly symmetrical features and/or massive boobies.  Wouldn't be self.  Brain no longer fights with body most of the time.  Too old for that shit.

...I'm so mature and wise now.  If I could only learn how to dress myself and not share my beverages with my lower body, I'd be a fully fledged grown up.

Now, who moved my colouring book?  I've got some serious art to tackle.  Did you know they do colouring books for adults now?!  I didn't until just this week.  Adult colouring books take the title of July's Best Discovery!

Marathon Training Week 7/ SUGAR!!! OMIGOD, SUGAR!!!!

7 weeks in! Ermagerd, shit's getting really, REALLY real! I'm actually going to have to do this thing, aren't I?  Without much further ado, please observe a glorious week in which I followed my training plan to.  The.  Letter.  Oh.  My. Gawd (lookat. Her. Butt*):

Mon    Restful day of resting (so restful)
Tues   5 miles
Weds  Who am I to resist a-rest (haw haw)?
Thurs 3 miles & Crossfit, during which I learned I can now fling 25kg onto my shoulders easily! Rejoicing!
Fri     4 miles
Sat  Stag do/dancing at an Irish bar induced hang over. Rest day
Sun   Penultimate Run Like a Ninja & 14 MILES!!!

Furthest I have ever-ever-ever-ever run!  And it was enjoyable!  Ninja lesson of the day was about getting cadence (the optimum number of steps to take per second while running = approx 3, or 180 beats per minute).  I learned that as long as my feet hit that ideal 1-2-3 rhythm, I could control my speed by either zipping my ankles higher up my legs to go faster, or by keeping my feet close to the floor for a low 'n' slow pace.  The way I run has completely changed over the last few weeks; for the better.  Zero injuries, and thanks to more frequent walk breaks (still getting used to not berating myself for having to do this and accepting that it's a better method of running long distance for me), I'm remembering to enjoy myself.  Plus, I'm still weirdly faster the more often I let myself have walk breaks.  Maybe if I walk the marathon, I'll win? Haz I dun a logick?

My epically tanned and muscular calves after 14 fun solo miles, 

because after 14 miles, my face wasn't prepared to be photographed.

Cameras have yet to have red-face reduction as well as red eye.

Aaand this week's plan is all going to go to shit because I've signed up to my first ever obstacle course, which falls on a rest day (Saturday).  It's the Margam Invncbl run.  6 miles, 20-something obstacles and a whole heap o' mud!  Have discovered that there are electric shocks at one point along the course.  I may or may not be sitting in soiled pants as I type.  I HATE electric shocks!!  I get pissy enough when I get static shocks off of shopping trollies.  Keep an eye out for a 5ft3 She-Hulk on the news.  I don't know how rage-y more than a little static is likely to make me.  If I even do that part of the course.  But there is a medal and a t-shirt, so no backing out now.  I have a pretty new shiny to collect, G-D it!

Clicky here to laugh at what I'm going to be putting myself through on the day. 

Runnin' done for this post.  Main topic I'm going to cover today was brought on by a conversation I had with the osteopath I met through Outcast CrossFit and who is doing a damn good job of making sure I don't make any of my own limbs fall off from over use during training (Swansea Body Kinetics - Rosie Jones).  Turns out we are both frequent sugar giver-uppers/binge consumers.  My attitude to sweets/cakes/other delicious things that make my brain light up like a Catherine wheel is well summed up by a Mark Twain quote I saw somewhere about his smoking habits:

 “To cease smoking is the easiest thing I ever did. I ought to know because I’ve done it a thousand times.”

I give up sugary treats every single day I when I wake up. Granted, it's not a habit akin to smoking in the eyes of most (especially if you are smoking in the eyes of most.  People don't like that, apparently), but I really believe that my addiction to the sweet stuff is just as intense, and can be just as damaging to our health in the long term.  I've read enough about it** to know why I shouldn't be eating Maoams at every meal.  Some examples of what excessive amounts of sugar can do to you:

• Fatty liver
• Fat and triglycerides in the blood
• Visceral fat
• All of the above can contribute to heart disease
• Damages collagen (translates: makes you prematurely look like a well used handbag)
• Over time makes you increasingly resistant to insulin, causing you to be at higher risk for diabetes.

 My logical Cleverbrain knows that if I keep eating nutritionally void party foods on the daily, I am likely to become a diabetic thirty year old who looks like she should have a bus pass and is one trifle away from an Elvis style heart attack on the bog.  No person wants that for themselves.  Nope.  No quick rush of "weeh, this is nice!" is worth it.  Cleverbrain also knows that nice things happen when I give up sugary snacks, because it's helped me try do it enough times.  When I'm off the Devil's granules,

• I'm more awake because I'm not in a WEEEEE!...zzzz...AAAAGH!!!...zzzz....WEEEEH!! cycle of peaks and crashes in my alertness.
• I'm a nicer person to be around because I'm less crazy from the merry-go-round of energy levels and spiking emotions.
• My brain feels less foggy.  Probably because it's not filled with bits of Fruit Pastille.
• I get physically leaner very quickly. I'm not too bothered about my weight, but it is easier to do my runs without little functionless almost-saddlebags that I can't even carry my loose change in.

 Of course I'm always going to want sugar.  Because frankly, it's fucking delicious. But it does bug me that all of my reasoning and good intentions to give myself a better chance at carving myself an independent and healthy old age is ruined by Cleverbrain's nemisis, the evil Professor Shitforbrains, who frequently turns up in my mind like an obese, grabby-handed child with chocolate on its face going 

MORE!!!!! I NEED MORE SUGAR NOW OR NO MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT ANYTHING USEFUL OR NON EDIBLE FOR THE REST OF THE DAY! HAHAHAHA GIVE ME HARIBO OR DIE AN UNPRODUCTIVE DEATH!!!

I don't get it.  How have humans evolved to think for themselves, and at the same time be contantly overruled by destructive impulses "just because it's nice and I want it, I want it now!"?  I understand that in the grand scheme of things, my "problem" isn't a problem anywhere near the scale of those experienced by people suffering with genuinely life ruining habits, but it is something I've grappled with for years.

Rosie the Magical Osteopath (sorry, Rosie, I've made you sound like a character off Playdays!  Send Why Bird and Poppy the cat my regards) made the point that maybe the reason that sugar is so easy to binge on is exactly that.  There's no sudden danger or deterioration while you're "on" it, and no dramatic comedown to put you off having more.  The negative effects are more long term, silent and creeping, which is ominous enough, but nothing like the shock of seeing a picture of a burnt up lung on a packet of Lambert & Butler.

Maybe after the marathon, I'll set myself a project to ease my dependance on sugar out of my life.  For now, I just wanted to get the topic out of my head, because it's been bugging me for a while.

Apparently I have a comments doohicky on this thing that I seldom mention/use.  Let me know - is your consumption of sugar something that bugs you, too?  Or am I alone here under my pile of Drumsticks and Sherbert Dip Dabs?

Also phwoar.  Do Sherbert Dip Dabs still exist??

*Apologies if, like me, you now can't get Nicki Minaj's manic giggles out of your head from that surreal version of Baby Got Back she did either.  "EhhhhHAHAHAHAH!!!"

** Two really good reads to get you started if interested: That Sugar Book - Damon Gameau and Sweet Nothing - Nicole Mowbray

NEWSFLASH!!! I love moving! Also eating!!

No, I've not gone simple on you.  I've just spent about a week solid feeling pretty fucking terrific and I want to share my nauseating happiness with the world wide scary, faceless web.  Hello, chums!

I started a new job, after my former workmates and current mates surprised me on my final day with a cheese buffet in my honour.  I've never cried over cheese before.  That was either a new high or a new low.  Not sure, but the cheese was the balls!

This past week, I've met lots of new faces, met up with some familiar faces and eaten the flesh off the bones of some strangers' faces.  

That last bit was a lie.  Just wanted to check if you were laying attention.  Good job, you.  

So... The main reasons for my chipper outlook:

MOVING!!  

Been soldiering on through my Spartan 30 challenge and been taking daily, pretty-dull-to-most pictures of...honestly, mostly my feet and face on Instagram.  Observe:

Thrilling stuff, I know.  Pleased to say I've not missed a day walking or running a mile yet.  Maybe except for today because I swam instead.  But that still counts, right?  

Screw you, it counts!!

Bar from a long run that turned into a 2 mile sprint-limp-waddle because of cramping ankles from not resting enough (rookie error - spose I'll learn eventually), it's been a good little challenge!  I've been getting in from work with a brain soaked in new stuff I'm supposed to remember and barely any energy.  Normally, especially with the weather the way it's been (shit. Wet. Rainy. Cold....y'know...British), I'd have curled into the fetal position on at least a couple of nights and made some excuses.  But, getting outside and at least doing a bit every night has given me an extra boost of "fuck yeah!" at the end of the day.

So, where I'd usually be a frowny, napping Becky shaped sofa cushion at the end of the day, I've been an irritatingly springy, talky bag of "what shall we do now?!" before hitting the sack and crashing out like a toddler after a sweety fix.  I thoroughly recommend getting off your arse and running around in the rain a bit when you least feel like it.  The buzz you get just for having survived leaving the house of your own free will is immense!

FOOD! 

Over the weekend, I decided that I wanted to know a bit more about food.  I love food, I love people who bring me food, but up until now, I've given zero fucks about what my food is actually for.  

People who have been running far longer than me have repeatedly been harping on at me about the importance of nutrition.  Usually while my eyes glaze over and I still have cake in my teeth and stray Haribo down my bra.

Curiosity eventually got the better of me when I stumbled across a book review on www.jezebel.com (if you is a lady -or a man- and you live in the internets like I do, visit the site! It's like a glossy magazine but without the rubbish bits and added sarcasm where it's needed most!).  

The review was on a simple guide about the body - how it utilises food, benefits from excercise.... Basically how to be nice to it and not starve or bloat it or just generally be mean to it.  It's packed full of interesting, accessible if basic science (perfect for the clueless and forgetful like myself - I barely recall school, let alone biology) and actual, useable, helpful tips on how to keep yourself roadworthy.

And it's written by Cameron Diaz.  It's called the Body Book and is only about six measly quid on Kindle right now.

I know!! But the fact that it's written in her cool, friendly voice makes it even better and to her credit, the lady knows her shit!  She's done her research!  I didn't plan on changing my eating habits, and am not claiming that the book is a total lifestyle changer, but I've been actually paying attention to what I'm eating for the last couple of days and I've found myself actually wanting to pick good stuff as opposed to nutritionally empty, sugar filled stuff (and I LOVE nutritionally empty sugar filled stuff!).  

As a result, especially today, I have been clear headed, energetic, happy and weirdly focused. To state the glaringly obvious, food really does affect your overall mood.  Hurrah for food!  Hurrah for Cameron Diaz!

My only worry is that I'll end up going off cake and sweets.  It'd feel like losing part of my identity.  If not a Haribo & cheese beast, what am I? 

*whistful stare*

...nah, I won't go off cheese and sweets.  

But it was the perfect my first guide to nutrition kind of book for me, and I can't wait to learn more about what I get to eat that'll give me super powers!