I've been reading up a lot recently on eating low carb and I've decided to give it a go more seriously. I've cut back on carbs before, but only as a means to cutting calories, not because it seemed best for my health. I don't want to become a carbphobe to the point that it makes me reduce the amount of vegetables, beans and legumes that I eat. Fibre is my friend and vegetables are awesome. But I want to try eliminating starches and sugars. I also hope this will help me overcome the fatphobia that has been drummed into my brain all my life. Low-fat is part of our zeitgeist, but I'm increasingly convinced that it shouldn't be. As something as simple as my GCSE in Food and Nutrition can tell me, fat has numerous vital roles in the proper functioning of the body. And what is the role of carbs? They provide energy. Yeah... I have enough in storage I think.
So we'll see how it goes.
From the sublime to the ridiculous (and not connected to the above since I only started low-carbing properly today)...
This morning I went for a run. I was pretty sore from strength work yesterday, and I only got about five hours of sleep. But I thought I'd get out there and get it done. It was a beautiful morning.
I decided to try a new route, or rather... to head out in one direction and just keep going without a fixed circuit in mind. In the past I've found that I tend to stop not because I'm actually exhausted but because I've covered whatever distance I'd planned on.
So I started out. About mile 2 I was going up a hill that never seemed to end. It wasn't steep, but the constant incline was draining. My legs were aching, I was already sweating buckets, I really felt like giving up. So I stopped my timer and I walked to the top of the hill. And then I took a breath and started my timer again and ran. I ran down the hill, and then I kept going, and then I kept going.
I had an idea that I'd like to try for about 5 miles, since I hadn't run that far since my 10K in May. By the time I was at mile 5, the ground was flying so easily beneath my feet that I just kept going. I passed one hour, and one hour five minutes, my previous record for longest time run.
I kept going, because I found I could, because why the hell not?
I finally stopped my timer again at 1 hour 25 minutes, having covered just over 8 miles, and walked the rest of the way home. I have to say, I felt kinda weak and exhausted and seriously thirsty and my stomach was all "umm... what the fuck? Where's my breakfast and what the hell was that?"
But I made it home, immediately drank about five big glasses of water, then took a shower and made breakfast. And I was still tired, but I also felt pretty fucking fantastic.
I have a new mantra, to be repeated to myself in times of crisis and self-doubt:
"It doesn't matter if you can't, but... you can."