Thursday, 2 March 2017


In October 2016, probably around the time of my last post I decided I needed to tack back control and stop the tailspin I had allowed myself to fall into.

Throughout my life I've in the main been pretty fit and active. Karate, netball and running have been the things that have kept my body ticking over. Never a skinny mini, more of a sturdy burd and relatively happy with my body. I'll never get back to my prime, training for my shodan and netballing three days a week.....I was only 13 at the time ;-)

However, while working with Glasgow 2014 in the run up to the Commy Games the wheels fell off in spectacular fashion. I, along with my Mum and two others took part in the Cally Challenge that year and for the first-time ever had a sporting injury.....bloody shin splints. The pain was horrendous and I stopped at 42 miles, I had bigger fish to fry that year.

So, there begineth my downward spiral. Anxiety has been something I've lived with since I was a teenager and sort of understand how to deal with it now after a major melt down in my 30s, but lack of exercise, personal stuff, stressful job etc. and it started to make a come back. Factor in a crap diet and a shit sleep pattern and you get the idea.

Not sure what the trigger was in October but something clicked. I took part in Davie Mooney's Cutthecrapathon, giving up red wine and takeaways. Joined slimming world as I was inspired by one of my oldest friends transforming her behaviour and shedding 4 stones. It was a start. I plodded through November, and committed to Marcothon in December. It was slow and painful to start but by the 31st December I was feeling fitter, lighter and quite smug. I could almost see myself taking up running again. January was gentle, eating habits great, sleep pattern on track, work stress off the scale but as other duck were in a line never more than I could deal with.

In mid February The Subversive Runner and I headed for the hills of Glencoe for a spot of R&R. Each of us doing out version of hill reps on the Devils Staircase. It was perfect.

All sounds fab, eh?

We arrived home on Sunday evening and while unpacking the car I took a tumble backwards off the driveway wall and broke my arm. Ouch. six weeks recovery, no cooking, no driving, no exercise, no way.

I've been sensible and followed doctors orders, enough that I currently don't need surgery, but going stir crazy. I'm not a patient patient and I really didn't want to undo the work done to lose nearly two stone and be fit enough to run again.

I have a cunning plan and a gentle personal challenge. MarchingOn is the Mrs Mac version of Marcothon. Quite simply committing to a minimum 25 minutes walking every day this month. It will never set the heather alight but will hopefully stop me from going back to bloater land. I don't like it there.

The plan is to end each month lighter than the last and to increase the distance in 25 mins. I discovered Tabbing this month, so maybe that might feature....

Happy goal setting, Mrs Mac :-)

1 comment:

Fiona Rennie said...

A brilliant cunning plan! Upright and outside, no matter the pace it's bound to speed up your recovery. xxx