The Fat Bloke Diaries
Episode Thirty-
It seemed inevitable that I would
put some weight on while I was on holiday in Orlando. Over two weeks a diet of pizza
and other tasty but nutritionally dubious delights was bound to have an adverse effect
on my waistline, and my liver. Indeed, my first meal on U.S. soil was almost inevitably
that great American classic, a bacon double cheeseburger. This was my own choice
of course; I’m not looking for absolution of my own dietary sins. It tasted disgusting
and wonderful at the same time. And just to be on the healthy side, I washed it down
with an extra-
I know that I should have been eating more healthily, but the sad fact is that it's
very difficult to feast on anything but junk in the tourist areas of Central Florida.
Dining with concern for my heart and colon was always going to be a challenge. For
example, it's almost impossible to locate a vegetable that isn't either ice-
So it was with some trepidation that I tiptoed onto the
scales the morning after I returned home. Surely I would have reverted to my default
Standard Bloater Setting? But do you know what? I was exactly the same weight as
when I'd left dear old Blighty. Maybe running in Floridian heat did some good after
all?
I've heard that in higher altitudes the air is thinner. It stands to reason
then that at sea level the air would be thicker. Now I've been to the top of mountains,
and I've been on ocean liners, but I've never been running on either. I did run in
Florida though and the air did indeed seem much heavier there than at home. Or maybe
it was just my clothing? Even the wikkiest of wikky material couldn't shift that
amount of sweat away from me. It was like I'd been hosed down with several gallons
of
The weatherman told me that humidity rose to almost 90% over
there and, with the density of the air, I can believe him. Mind you, I'd have believed
whatever he said as I've never understood humidity levels at all. If it reaches 100%
is that like running underwater? It certainly felt like it as the holiday passed
and the weather deteriorated. The thunderstorms were some of the worst I've ever
seen, and the flood warnings came thick and fast. At one point I swear I saw an entire
zoo float by.
In those conditions it was imperative that I look after my feet. Lotions,
powders and frequent drying all helped, but it was always likely that I was going
to develop a few hot spots. To be honest I'm just glad that I didn't succumb to trench
foot. At least my feet fared much better than those of my Beloved. She didn't manage
to run with me at all while we were away. Due to an incorrect footwear choice she
suffered early holiday blisters. And she also had a nasty reaction to some insect
bites on her legs that made stretching them painful. She patched herself up enough
to continue shopping but not enough to get up for a five a.m. jog. At least that's
what she told me.
To be honest I think that I missed too much of my training. I know
that I was on holiday, and I should feel smugly self-
I found the physical act of running there
much harder than it is at home, even though the ground was much flatter. But I persevered,
getting out for six runs of around a mile and a half each, and also walked between
five and twelve miles every day. I’ve come back hopeful that I'll see some benefit
from it when I take to the streets of South Yorkshire again.
The comparison is going
to be interesting.
© Shaun Finnie 2009