The mountain and the mojo

I have been a bit quiet on the whole weight loss and exercise thing lately, so I though I'd give you an update. I am still going ok, but to be honest, the last four months have been a bit tough. I lost my mojo somewhat and just got sick of the whole diet and exercise crap. Most of the time I can stay pretty positive, but there are times when you don't give a rat's bum about how much training you are doing, how well your weight loss is progressing and you are just totally pissed off with the whole caper. This tends to lead to either picking yourself up by your bootstraps and keeping on trucking OR retreating to some bad old habits, such as swimming around in vats of wine and eating your bodyweight in chips and tim tams. Guess which option I went for? Hmmm, hard to pick, eh? Those that know and love me well (I know, a shock for some of you, but there are some weirdoes out there who think I'm pretty good) have watched with some trepidation on the sidelines as I flailed around for the last few months, but are now breathing a collective sigh of relief that I've pulled myself up from a total crash and am now back to the old regime of telling myself that lettuce is my best friend and that I really don't want to roll around in fried brie. Really. I am not going to go all D&M here, but I guess if I had to have a crash, I've come out the other side and there is not too much collateral damage (I put on 6kg. Disappointing but not the end of the world as we know it). I have dug out my running shoes, dusted off my sports bras (now THERE'S a mental image for you) and started on the "healthy" track again. Can't say I am dancing for joy about it 24 hours a day, but I reckon I'll get there in the end. I am further along than I was this time last year, so I just have to re-focus and, well, you know the rest. I have started walking back Mt Ainslie again with my intrepid group of fellow walkers 3 times a week at lunchtime. Last week I put in an extra climb and I have to say it is much easier in a group. By myself was a lot harder and it felt as though the path had somehow got steeper and longer. I stopped at one point and muttered out loud that there had to be a good reason for doing this (climbing the mountain, not whinging. Being hot, tired and a funny shade of purple are all good reasons in my book for having a bleat). Not 1 minute later, a young chap walked past me carrying (believe it or not) a bottle of champagne. Yahoo! If that is not a sign from a higher power that there is a damn fine reason to push on up that hill, I don't know what is. Alcohol and exercise - could there be a more perfect combination? I really think that the AIS should do much more study into this.

On a more serious note, I have also been battling with depression and anxiety for about the last 6 months, which hasn't helped. I am lucky and have managed to work out there was something wrong and get help. I also have fantastic support from family, friends and work colleagues. If you think you need help, go and get it. I can't stress it enough - don't get to the stage where I was, crying in the car on the way to work every morning for no reason and slowly going crazy through lack of sleep and anxiety attacks. It is not a pretty place to be and the longer you stay there, the harder it is to leave. Just like Hotel California. Yuck. Thanks to all who have been so supportive (especially Tim, Kate, Sue, mum and dad) and to all who just took this in their stride, listened to me freak out and gave me the reassurance I needed. It made a huge difference.

Less than mets the eye

Those of you who are comfortable with admiting that you are generation X-ers are more than likely able to remember the Transformer song/slogan "Transformers, more than meets the eye" (oh come on, I know you know it, along with the Castle Greyskull thing from He Man). Well, my two young nephews are complete Tranformers addicts and I was asked by their mum if I could track down a Transformer for each of them that converted from the robot (autobot? Whatever) into the car for their Christmas present. No worries, I thought, how hard could it be?

Farking hard, it turns out - close to nigh on impossible. Even He Man would have had trouble with this one and I bet he has much better connections in the toy spin off world than I do. It was not that finding Tranformer toys was hard, they were everywhere. Finding one that TRANSFORMED from one thing to another turned out to be a big old ask. After dragging myself around the various toy stores in Canberra only to be confronted with box after box of the little buggers all saying "non converting model", I was getting mighty cheesed off. I took some time out to consult one of my favourite dictionaries and guess what? Transform means "change or be changed in appearance, form or nature" (thanks Oxford Concise Dictionary, paperback edition). I also checked the thesaurus and it went into a similar line of description, which led me to believe that the toy makers had their heads firmly up their bottoms when they thought we would all be duped into thinking we were getting our money's worth when we bought a non-converting Transformer. I finally tracked down two of the little buggers that did convert after being fired out of a battery powered gun. Don't remember that in any of the comics or recent film, but I was beyond caring by that point. It could have converted after you sang to it nicely and massaged it tyres and I still would have bought it. So, with luck, I am now elevated to the status of present buying guru. One that has a rather grumpy disposition towards toy manufacturers and "non conversion", but a guru none the less.