Tag Archives: Fitness

Aug 31 2021
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Truth Brownies

When the ‘Treat Yo Self’ approach to life gets out of hand, how does someone devoid of all discipline make lasting changes to benefit their health?

I had a slab, not a slice, a slab of chocolate brownie and a Cadbury’s Twirl for my breakfast. It’s hospital day today. I’m booked in for some investigations this afternoon to see if the persistent pain in my ribs is HHT related or if I’m just fat. I’m 99% convinced it’s the latter. Yesterday I had a bowl of sugarpuffs for breakfast and I can’t work out if that’s better or worse than today. In fact, yesterday I had Sugarpuffs with semi skimmed milk (I’m not a complete animal, who drinks full fat milk?) followed by garlic bread with cheese at lunch, followed by a BBQ dinner of sausage (no bun), cheese burger (all the brioche bun), mixed salad, red pepper hummus, those amazing mini poppadoms from M&S, chocolate brownie and 6 custard creams. Anyone at IMA want to try and work out how many calories that equates to?

I’ve got a serious issue with lack of discipline. When I was young I could eat whatever the hell I wanted and stay slim. I was very active as a teen and 20 something but the moment I got pregnant, i kissed that little luxury goodbye. I didn’t eat for 2, I ate for 12, for the whole 9 months. I put 4 stones on in 9 months. The baby weighed in at less than 9lbs, don’t try to make me feel better.

In between babies 1 and 2, I went from a size 14 to a size 10 again and looked and felt a lot better. However that wasn’t due to hard work and effort, it was the Divorce diet of stress. It’s SO effective.

I’m no as heavy as I was when I gave birth in 2010. It’s so depressing because I’m not even carrying another human being this time. But as you’ve probably learned from my breakfast choices this morning, I’m lacking any kind of will to do anything about it.

I am reaching critical mass though. I’m making my boyfriend delete pictures of me. I’m not jumping in selfies with my kids. I HATE my wardrobe and it’s entire contents. I’m dreading getting back to work because it means I have to see people who will DEFINITELY notice the weight gain. I’m back to wearing all black outfits in an attempt to hide my bulky frame.

It’s hard going all this, isn’t it? I find it’s far too easy to give yourself some slack but then struggle regain a healthy balance. All bodies are beautiful, stop comparing yourself to others, and my personal favourite, treat yo self. When I happen across these inclusive, nurturing, well-meaning posts on Instagram, all my brain hears is: “EAT ALL THE FOOD, WATCH ALL THE PRIME” and nothing else.

Today’s excuse is, it’s the last day of the month and surely tomorrow, 1st September is the BEST TIME to start again. Seriously, what is that all about?Starting diets on a Monday? Start healthy new habits on 1st of the month? Why? Why isn’t 09:17am on Tuesday 31st August the best time? I’ll tell you why, because I lack self discipline.

I’m at a cross roads because I can’t understand why I can’t commit to just not eating shite and moving my ass regularly.

I love to move. Razzing about on my bike makes me dead happy. Starting my day with yoga and HIIT makes me happy. Dragging the kids out on a long walk or blitzing a 25 mile, 2 day city break with my better half, stuff of dreams.

A lack of discipline and no get up and go can be lethal. Just ask my recent DKNY bumbag purchase, which is already on the last belt buckle hole.

I need your advice, your input, your motivation because I’m seriously sad about this whole situation. It’s getting me down. I want to feel good in my clothes again. I don’t want to have to sit out when my kids are arsing about in the garden/park. I don’t want to wear head to toe black (although it’s SUCH a good look).

Hit me up and how you get the balance between feeling and looking good, and living a little.

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Jan 28 2020
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In the Deep End

Jumping in with both feet is something I’ve done most of my life, rarely giving a thought to the outcomes or end results. Who knew that doing it, literally could be so daunting. 

I did something scary this week. But let’s get a bit of context first. I spend a fair chunk of my day alone. When I’m writing I need peace and quiet to hit the keys. Even the radio gets binned off. And so the solitude is welcome. I work alone, I do the weekly food shop alone, I run alone, I go to meetings and appointments alone, I iron school uniforms late at night alone, I read the Sunday Times alone, I sleep alone. It’s nothing new. For the most part, I like it.

So, doing something new, alone shouldn’t come as much of a shock to the system. But as I plunged, feet first into the water at my local pool, without my kids splashing about, or my friends telling me to behave and get some lengths done, I felt like I’d made a terrible mistake.

I’ve been feeling self-conscious of late. Probably the insecurity with my work situation and losing a bit of faith in the job application process. I decided to move my ass, instead of sitting around eating myself into a diabetic coma. I’m absolutely loving clocking up a few miles again. each day. I’m unlikely to challenge Shelley-Ann Fraser Pryce any time soon, but the mileage is coming along.

When I walk or run, I listen to this amazing podcast from APM Reports. It’s called In The Dark and you can check it out here. I’m on Season Two now and it rocks. But along with listening to true crime podcasts and reading a lot of crime/thriller novels, comes an uneasy feeling around secluded places. Like, my run route.

To mix things up again and get the thought of being dragged through some bushes to an ugly demise in my own backyard, I decided to squish my aforementioned ass into a swim suit and go to the pool. It seems so alien to be there without the kids. I’ve literally never gone to a swimming pool on my own, set myself a challenge in terms of how many lengths I want to wrack up, and achieved it. It’s so normal, yet so out of my comfort zone. I’m also 100% less likely to be dragged through bushes at the pool. So, win win.

I paid my entry fee. Faffed around with the locker. Damn lockers. And walked out to the shallow end of the pool. My eye sight is absolute pants and without glasses I couldn’t quite read the time on the clock at the far end, 25m away. But sure enough, I pushed off and swam. Minding my own business. Clocking up some exercise. By 25 laps I felt a bit less weird. When it was around 40 minutes later, I decided I was done.

Walking home afterwards I felt like I’d reached a new level of adulting. Look at me, I went for a swim, on my own! I’ve never felt like this about the weekly shopping or when all 15 uniforms are ironed and hanging up on a Sunday night. It felt scary to walk out there on my own, especially in a swimming costume – aint no body got time for that!

I’ve decided I’m all for little victories in 2020. Doing stuff for the first time. Doing the scariest thing or most dreading thing on your to do list, first and revelling in the sense of accomplishment. I hadn’t made a single New Years resolution. But now that I’m a fully fledged adult, who goes swimming alone and everything, I’m going to add a few more ‘scary things’ to my 2020 list and make it the most terrifying year to date.

 

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Mar 18 2016
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Friday Night Disco

It’s Friday night, its 9:30pm and I am busting some serious moves…..sat at my desk….listening to Itunes shuffle…..in my running kit….despite only going as far as the wheelie bins in my front garden today.

It’s been an absolutely manic few weeks and I’ve racked up a good few miles just dashing from meetings to interviews to catch up coffees and lessons. I love that step counter app thingy on my iphone, you know the heart icon one that tells me how many bars of Galaxy I can have after my tea….I mean how many steps I’ve done.

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Proof that I got off my ass in 2008.

Despite all the dashing (I sound like a bloody reindeer) I’ve also spent an inordinate amount of time sat on my arse consuming sugar-laden Costa coffees which has done my summer body prep no good whatsoever.

It would appear that journalists spend a lot of time sat in meetings, in pubs, coffee shops on trains, buses and cabs. Journalists do not tend to carry out meetings while generally moving, at all.  And the last time I checked, talking (even the sheer amount that I do) does not burn body altering amounts of calories, nor does it tone bingo wings or create Victoria Secret model-esque body types. This is bitterly disappointing news.

It’s now March (silent scream) and I’ve not really made any effort whatsoever towards my dream goal of being a perfect size 10 for Grand National weekend, panic has set in.

So, as per my usual knee-jerk reaction to pretty much everything, I’m lacing my Nikes up first thing tomorrow and heading to the park with my sister to rack up some miles. Also typical me, I have signed up for Hellrunner which is a half marathon distance with obstacles (muddy bog, freezing river, big-ass hills) dotted through Delamere Forest in Cheshire. It’s either train for these type of events or live on dust for the rest of eternity, and my god I love cake, so that’s just not an option.

Wish me luck!

Edit- forgot to mention that my friends have now renamed me Cake Reilly. Sounds like Kate….its just that Cake is more me….or just is me. Yep. 

 

 

 

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Oct 22 2015
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Like A Boss

I make no apology for writing (once again) about how awesome women are. That’s not to say guys aren’t amazing too (especially Michael Fassbender, Corey Parker and Eddie Redmayne to name a select few) I’m totally pro-equality….however over the last few weeks of my college course, I’ve met some seriously incredible women.

A woman I met a couple of weeks ago is 8 months pregnant and has a toddler running around with her 24/7. Already exhausting right? Now add into the mix the fact that this lady is a ridiculously talented, original, clothing designer and decided during the latter stages of pregnancy to design, create and debut her collection at her first ever fashion week……toddler in tow! All the while she looked stunning, form fitting wrap dresses, beautifully braided hair and tailored dress coats….and heels….and she nailed it! Hats off to you Taya.

The second woman, or should I say women I want to tell you about are artists too. They run a phenomenal initiative and pop up store called OneArt. Every few months they move into a different store space at Liverpool One and revamp it themselves, rollers and Dulux emulsion at the ready!. After all that manual labor they then display their own and other local artists creations for the lovely people of Liverpool and beyond to buy. All the while they are consistently creating new spaces for local artists to sell their unique artwork, jewelry and ceramics. Freida, Karen and Katherine…you rock!

Childsplay Clothing Liverpool Fashion Week 2015

I can’t write about influential women without mentioning Fashion Week event organiser and mum of SIX…Amanda Moss. I’m absolutely convinced she doesn’t sleep, and if she does it must be standing up with her eyes open planning awards and auditioning models. Amanda always has time for a catch up and develops events and gatherings that encourages others to shine…..Patron Saint of Multi-tasking like a boss!

And to my female family, friends, old school mates and women I stalk…I mean follow, on twitter…seeing and hearing you achieve stuff makes me want to up my game, try harder, stop making excuses. From my friend Leah who, without fail hits the gym everyday at 6am and wakes me up with her motivational Instagram post….to an old school mate (and birthday twin) Hayley who despite having two teeny boys looks a million dollars wondering around Sainsburys doing her shopping. So much love and respect for my relative who is caring for her elderly mother who suffers from dementia and yet always makes it home to put dinner on the table…. and to my Caroline who has supported me tirelessly while I try and become the writer/journalist I always wanted to be.

Surrounding yourself with people who inspire you, make you laugh and support you is such a simple yet effective way to feel comfortable in your own skin. With so much opportunity on our door step that is freely accessible to women now its no wonder we’re unstoppable.

Here’s to you girls!

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