Having spent most of the last weekend climbing all over the Giant’s Causeway – which is possibly the greatest place on Earth, by the way – I am feeling very good about my increased fitness. I still nearly died taking the coastal road back, or more precisely climbing the stairs to get to the coastal road but that’s because they were a death trap. You know the secret way past Minas Ungol in The Return of the King that Gollum leads Sam and Frodo through? Yeah. They’re like that. Except it wasn’t raining so at least they weren’t slippery I guess. In all honesty, I don’t know how Sam managed it. It must have been his supposedly-secret love for Frodo that carried him through.
The point is that I am in much better shape than I was only four short months ago. For one thing, there’s no way I could have dragged my old, fat self up the Haystacks (very accurately described as ‘large, steep hills’ by the audio guide) for any where near as long as I was mucking around on them on my visit – or possibly at all. They were actually incredibly steep sided but the view was glorious from the top. Totally worth it and I highly recommend anyone who visits the Causeway ignores the warning of the audio guide and staff and climbs them anyway. Once you’re at the top you literally cannot hear anything from the road so if people do shout at you to come down you have the perfect excuse not to.
I’d advise caution, however, if you are pregnant, of a weak constitution, terminally afraid of heights or haven’t eaten much before hand as it is really tiring. Even my friend Paul, who also risked the wrath of the National Trust and accompanied me on my wild venture, found it tiring and he’s a lot fitter than I am. He did, however, recover by the time we had to tackle the stairs so didn’t nearly die from exertion like I did on the way back.
I’m not really sure what possessed me to climb the Haystacks (that is actually what they are called. They were made by a giant and I’m not going to argue with him about it). They are pretty high – we’re talking at least 100ft from the highest point into the sea if you go out onto the one that kind of hangs over the ocean, and it’s a pretty straight drop. I’m normally not really up for climbing things (effort, vertigo) but as soon as the tour guide warned me off it I decided I 100% had to. Once I got to the top and looked over the edge I knew I was taking a little bit of a risk, but I still dangled my legs over the edge of what was pretty much a cliff face. I really did feel like the water below, or perhaps some Lovecraftian terror beneath the waves, was drawing me into the drop but I survived and didn’t get in the drink. That’s a success in my book.
If I’d been told four months ago that I was going to be scaling cliff faces off the coast of Ireland of my own free will in a third of a year I’d have called the messenger crazy, which just goes to show how weight loss can change your attitude to activity as well. Laziness definitely begets itself, inertia being one of the most terrifying natural forces, but momentum is the same phenomena really so once you get going, you’re going. My trip to the Giant’s Causeway really demonstrated and emphasised this to me, and I enjoyed the adventure all the more for it.
The message I’m trying to get across is that if you are considering dieting, seriously consider exercise as part of that regime. You’ll have to cut down less on food and you’ll get so much more out of it than just weight loss. I’ve found I have more energy, more stamina and a much better attitude to a lot of activities I would previously have just dismissed out of hand as too much effort. I’ve done a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do, or didn’t really expect to enjoy, initially just to prove to myself that I can do them. And finding out that I can do them has been a bit of a rush, if I’m honest.
Partly I get such satisfaction from these things because I firmly believe people are defined by the things they do and have done – if someone does a lot of things, they are much more interesting than someone who does not, and they definitely have a wider breadth of experience and first hand knowledge to draw on when planning new ventures.
But it’s certainly not all philosophically gained; my poorly-hidden vanity and pride also provide a lot of that feeling. Being able to do things that other people consider dangerous or brave (or stupid) is a great way to show off or one up someone, and I can’t say I don’t enjoy it. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. My closest friends and I have a motto; it’s not arrogance if it’s true. The best way of proving you can do something is to straight up just do it. Prove it to the world. Nike it.
I’ll be honest, there are a few of things I can’t pluck up the courage to do just yet, both because of a lack of fitness and a little bit to do with low self-esteem because of my weight and size. This isn’t uncommon in people who loss significant amounts of weight. While I studied in America I had a good friend called Eddie. He was charming, good looking and pretty bold socially but confided in me that (apparently) he sometimes saw himself as the fat kid he used to be. When he showed me a picture I literally refused to believe it was him; the change was so complete I couldn’t associate the man I knew with the picture he claimed to be him. He turned his life around in a short space of time and its his success that has inspired me, in part.
It’s totally possible; I’m doing it now. It’s just a case of working at it and not giving up. Do things that scare you – I was definitely sweating from more than exertion when I was sitting on the precipices of the coast of Northern Ireland – and you’ll find you can do more and more. I’ll be honest, my experiences have also made me more critical of the Lord of the Rings trilogy; Sam would not have retained al that weight walking to across Middle-Earth. However, his should still be an inspirational story – if a fat hobbit can make it across the prolific distance from the Shire to Mordor I can damn well get back into shape again, and so can you!
(If you’re not already. And want to. And maintain you’re determination. Possibly even if it’s ‘glandular’. But if you choose to just continually shove potatoes down your gullet (boiled, mashed or put in a stew) and refuse to engage in any sort of activity, heroic or otherwise, I’ll be honest; you’re not dieting, so it won’t help. Nike it, baby.)
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