As I noted last week, MrsDavy has put the fear of failure into me with the thought that, if the All Blacks fall over in England, it will be all my own fat fault. Because, as we know, the 2011 triumph was down to the karmic benefits of Ned getting his act together around weight and fitness.
Desperate times. Desperate measures.
So I’ve signed up with the food bastards (aka Kathryn and Birgit at Real and Vital) who promise to cleanse the Ned eco-system with something called the 5:2 diet.
Which sounded good to me, because I’ve been doing that for years: once you’ve eaten 5 eclairs, you may as well have the last 2.
Imagine the dismay when it turns out that you’re supposed to eat nearly normally for 5 days, and on the other 2 you very nearly fast. Oh, and cut out sugars and bad fats and bad carbs, and ease up on burnt steaks, at all times.
I’m in the first fortnight of the programme, which is about “mindfulness”: paying attention to what goes in the gob. I have to photo every thing on my plate and send it to them for disapproval.
So I have been reducing the rubbish, and reducing the portions of what’s left, and drinking gallons of water, and doing some actual exercise, and lo! I’ve already lost 2.5kg in a week.
It’s a complete and utter bastard when your failings are exposed so.
Next week I’ll start the fasting days, and kick it along some more. And do the running thing, and weights, and bloody bastard bugger.
It’s not an easy gig for Kathryn and Birgit because the deal is that I will be grumpier than Lord Ted and they will be all positive energy and endorsement and encouragement. They assure me that the food will be good, and I’ll feel good, and life will be good, and MrsDavy will love rugby, and the All Blacks will … (turn around three times, and spit).
He’ll eat nutritious, high protein
And swallow raw eggs
Try to build up his shoulders
His chest, arms, and legs
Such an effort
If he only knew of my plan
In just seven days
I can make you a man
He’ll do press-ups and chin-ups
Do the snatch, clean, and jerk
He thinks dynamic tension
Must be hard work
Such strenuous living
I just don’t understand
When in just seven days
I can make you a man