Addiction As Some Kind of Teaching Cunt
When I haven’t got my head stuck up my own arse, I like to reflect sometimes.
In a previous life (i.e. 10 minutes ago) I’d feel sorry for myself for being cursed with an addictive personality. I want to be normal. Normal people don’t eat an entire box of Frosties on the 7th morning of a cross country run and then spend the rest of the day circling Exmoor National Park shitting everywhere until they finally find a pub in Dunster, Somerset where the magic can finally happen in a controlled setting (only the pub in question has a parrot outside the toilets and what I subjected that bird to was not too dissimilar to what the paramilitaries on both sides put normal Northern Irish civilians through in the 80’s and 90’s).
It probably experiences PTSD every time it hears an old squeaky door opening.
I just wish I could get addicted to the good things in life. Lettuce and dental floss. Not Haribo and Toblerone.
As much as I enjoyed the experience of LEJOG at the time, the hangover from it has been dramatic. Instead of becoming superfit, I gained all the weight I’d lost in 2016 and 2017 back again. It hurts to read that sentence back again.
Running across country is a fucking terrible way to lose weight. Here’s what happens. You lose weight initially and feel great. Then you run less the next few weeks and eat more as your body is still recovering. You gain more weight. This makes you less willing to run and the vicious cycle deepens. I spent 3 months in this cycle before it levelled off.
It’s been a difficult lesson to learn but I’ve learned it. That’s why I’m exercising a little less now and concentrating more on eating salads and nuts and not chocolate for every fucking meal.
I’ve been heading in the right direction again this year but I’m still plagued by what happened at the end of last year. How could I not see that coming? I guess at some point I became clinically fed-up. There’s a story behind that too. When I finished LEJOG on the first Saturday of July, I returned straight to work on the Monday. I was exhausted. My work wasn’t up to the standard I’ve expected of myself since I stopped drinking. That led to me becoming frustrated and angry with myself. Same old terrible coping mechanisms with Haribo.
Eventually I started on the anti-depressants and the Fleetwood Mac and…..hard to tell if that was a good idea or not.
So….life was going good in 2016 and 2017 up until I didn’t finish Isle of Wight and decided to do LEJOG. That wasn’t the response of a sane cunt.
I’m getting back on track but I’ve gotta stop looking back.