Do you know how much time I have spent thinking about what to call this piece/written word/ramble? Loads. Like if you were in my head you would think “jeez it really doesn’t matter, call it bank holiday weekend, nobody cares”. Well I care! I care a lot! So, I settled on The Good Life. Because that is what this weekend was. I am a country girl at heart and I couldn’t have picked a better weekend away.
Now then, who follows me on Instagram? Tsk tsk. Not very many of you. Go and add me (not you Mum, you’ll just give me grief for taking photos of my stomach, also shut up Matt, I know there are lots of them, it makes me happy – I worked hard for those shadows). Everyone else though – catmac1987. If you follow me you will know ALL about my bank holiday weekend. Capital B for Bank? No idea. Moving on! AMAZING WEEKEND! I have essentially done nothing but eat, drink and be super super merry for the past 4 days. Tralala. So, let’s sum up my weekend. Friday night was dinner with mother, sister, sister’s boyfriend (totally not bitter that my younger sister is in fact in a steady relationship, they even live together, oh wait, another match on Tinder! No I don’t fancy him. Dammit). Saturday morning I got up at, wait for it, FIVE AM. Urgh! I had an hour of bike training to do and actually it was bloody marvelous. 5 laps of Regents park (roughly 15 miles, not much really but I rode quite fast – wheeee!). If you ride then I thoroughly recommend you get up at 5am and do this. The ring road of the park is closed to death taxis and all manner of killing machine vehicles until 7am! Whole road to myself! Then it was a train to Axminster (aka Devon. Or is it Dorset? Somerset? Whatever – A level geography still reigning supreme here). Off the train, huffy at the taxi for being late but finally made it to ——– RIVER COTTAGE! If you don’t know who Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall is then you may as well switch channels right now. We are not going to be friends.
So, crikey, I don’t even know where to start! Let’s do a rambling list! Cider, vegetarian food (surprisingly amazing), cider, squealing when I saw Hugh, marveling at the meadows, ice cream, getting over excited by little foodie stalls, buying everything (aka Dad buying me everything #legend), Pimms cocktails (nettle stinger – I will explain), getting my book signed by Hugh, smiling so much my face hurt, learning about foraging (dammit I’m cool), getting over excited by the animals, trying to persuade Dad to buy a land rover, getting over excited by Mark Hix giving a cooking demo, another cider, frantically trying to remember everything to write in this, TAXI!, shouting “BYE!!!” to Hugh when I saw him driving away in his car, going to a pub, walking to the sea, going back to the pub, eating fish and chips, going to bed. DONE.
Right! Now let’s get to the important stuff. Bank holidays are great aren’t they. Extra day off work. Free reign to eat and drink whatever you like. Lovely! I even rounded my weekend off with enough sushi to kill a man and the night before that I shared half a cow (ok ok it was 1kg of Cote de Boeuf) with my sister at the rather lovely Bull & Last pub in North London (more to come on this in another “blog” entry) HOWEVER. Heed warning my fellow fittie foodies. I have succumbed on many an occasion to throwing caution to the wind and essentially consuming all and sundry because I’ve trained hard during the week and I’ve eaten a bloody healthy diet day after day and therefore think a few days of gluttony will be well deserved. The result? Extreme Monday morning (or in the case of a bank holiday – Tuesday morning) feelings of regret and disappointment that my extremely modest abs are now hiding for the foreseen future. If you too are no stranger to these feelings then fret not. I believe this weekend I cracked it! I am very much a black and white, yes or no, all or nothing sort of girl. As a result if I am going to have chips with dinner that means I’m drinking half a bottle of wine, having a starter and having ice cream for desert as well. May as well go all out. BAD BAD BAD. Not the food. The food is great! Embrace it! But the thought process is ridiculous. Instead, this weekend, I think, THINK, I managed to break this cycle on a small scale.
This was mainly down to my Saturday morning 5am training. No not because it burned loads of calories. But I went out and trained even though I knew I was going to be indulging all day. I enjoyed my three pints of cider (I rarely drink, this was the equivalent of a half pint of moonshine to me), my pimms cocktail and my G&T (slimline – let’s not go too mental). I enjoyed my food and I had a bloody marvelous time. I’ve been the girl that won’t touch anything unless I can log it in MFP (myfitnesspal – actually a very good app), the girl that doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. It’s grand. My body was pretty rad. However, I seem to be learning that we can, theoretically, do both.
Let me break this down a little more before I lose you to Facebook stalking your ex or the Daily Mail. In order to avoid the post weekend binge guilt I took the following steps:
- I ate a normal sized portion of whatever I fancied. I left most of the chips on my fish and chips because I was full. I always clear my plate. This was progress.
- I had normal amounts of alcohol (I was with my parents – they are not so big on the jagerbombs)
- I trained BLOODY hard. An hour on Saturday morning, an hour and a half of weights and cardio on Sunday afternoon, a two and a half hour bike session yesterday and then an hour of weights in the afternoon.
- When I wasn’t indulging I ate good real food. Oats to fuel my training yesterday, fruit, lots of water etc
Ok. Comprende? Good.
Maggie (my sister) wanted pictures. Here’s a billion.
Happy 4 day week folks.