Halfway, and I’m sick of bananas
Reporter Tess Nichol is on a six-week boot camp to get in shape for summer. Three weeks in and the constant dieting and early starts are beginning to get her down . . .
I’m halfway through my six-week journey to a shredded beach bod and I’m not the same cleanliving evangelist I was a week ago. The annoying thing about diet and exercise is how much you have to think about them.
I’ve never dieted fulltime before and constantly thinking about food and how you’re not really allowed any is incredibly dull.
I get a boost when I check back in with my nutritionist Kate Walker, who after measuring and weighing me finds I’ve lost 2 per cent body fat and about three kilos, putting me at 74.2kg.
I’ve also lost a centimetre off my hips, waist and abdomen.
Kate’s pleased, and so am I. At least I’ve got something to show for three weeks of nights in with green tea and kale.
Nevertheless, I’m sick of eating banana masquerading as a treat: Mashed up with cocoa powder and stuck in the microwave, or mashed up with peanut butter and rolled into little balls, or frozen and whipped into a sad approximation of icecream.
The physical benefits of no wine and early morning boot camp are still there, although I did get my first growling from my trainer, Raphael Barcellos Victoria, for pathetically plodding over hurdles during Wednesday’s session. “Is that what you call running, Tess?!” More than anything it’s the social toll that’s starting to get me down. Being around other people drinking is too tempting, so I’ve stopped going out on the weekends or after work.
Date-night dinners are off the table and I miss the ritual of it, not to mention the break they provide from cooking.
I have to think about food preparation constantly because if I don’t plan my meals then I end up starving at work with no lunch and the temptation to snack increases tenfold.
Money saved on bought lunches is noticeable though, a silver lining.
Bedtime is also early now because I start getting tired about 6.30pm after waking up some 12 hours before to work out. I haven’t adjusted to the fact that getting up earlier for exercise doesn’t mean you get to leave early from work.
My world seems smaller, and I wonder if it’s like this for all fit people and you just get used to it.
Being accountable, in my case to Herald readers, helps.
This is an advantage boot camp has over the gym or going for runs on your own — Raphael will notice if I don’t show up, and so will my fellow early morning fitness friends.
The team spirit is part of what has kept me going, as well as the fear of having to document my own failure should I decide I’d prefer a sleep-in to squats and star jumps.
See you next week.