Weight, Wine and A Bit Of A Whine

I’m such a big baby.

I was recently told that if my body didn’t start to behave, an operation was necessary. More detail?

**Lady Problem Alert..Men – look away now.**

I suffer from a condition that affects my uterus and at certain times of the month, it can get very uncomfortable. This operation is supposed to alleviate the discomfort. Basically, they send in a probe…* pending nausea warning* ….and it radiates a kind of heat which will then “burn” away the lining of my womb. Having had all sorts of medication to help this problem, it seems, bar a complete hysterectomy, this is my last chance. I’ve been putting it off for as long as possible due to an unreasonable and hysterical fear of going under the knife and just “going under” really. The plus points are: I can have it done with an epidural and there is not actual cutting up of human flesh involved. A lot of women who have had this procedure report only good things afterwards. I really must bite the bullet and make the appointment. 

Soon. 

Maybe.

-- Safe Zone --

The last lot of meds – you know the ones which my Doc assured me would help enormously and which didn’t! – caused me to gain quite a lot of weight around my waist area. 10 kilos in total.  I waited for it to go of its own accord. It didn’t. Finally, my jellybelly became too much to bear and I decided to do something about this. Well, by joining weightwatchers of course. Oh how the men in my life have laughed. The weekly shop has become a mirth filled excursion, peppered with catcalls of “you can eat dust” related comments. They seem to be under the impression that our weekly meetings are on the same scale as the Little Britain "Fat Busters" sketches and Pat has adapted the Marjorie Dawes persona. The bugger!

The only thing I just can’t give up, is the wine on Friday nights. I deserve that wine after living with the real life cast of the aforementioned comedy show. I did however, give up the crisps. Doritos Begone! God, it’s hard. I love a crisp or 60 with a glass of wine. I’m a bit of a crisp connoisseur you see, from doritos to Lays to Balsamic vinegar “light” (who are they trying to kid) crisps. Having decided that the root of my spare tyre lies in the evil of the salted snack, I changed my weekend nibbles to veg with yoghurt dip. Very low cal and very wholesome. Very blydi boring too. So last week I managed to actually drink a couple of glasses of white, without any snackage at all.  The first weigh-in was great, Rockyesque I stood on the scales, raising my fist in victory (well in my imagination I was) as Natalie (the coach) announced 1.5 kilo down. How great was that for a beginner. The second week I think I must have believed my own press and didn’t quite keep to the regime. No crisps but I did succumb to a veggie pita from the Greek up the road – lots of lovely feta and salty dolmakia, followed by more white and some crackers. Perhaps I should have realized that I had weightwatchers the next day and curbed my appetites somewhat…a lot…more. Off I went feeling oddly full, possibly the result of the pasta I caved to at lunch, and stepped on the scales. 300 grammes….”not as much today, Sharon”. 

*Deflated Gasp*

How could this happen? There must be some mistake?..Nooooo! Apparently salty foods retain fluid in your body and cause heaviness. Frankly, I blame the Greek for not informing his customers of the danger.

The thing is, I’m kind of competitive and can’t quite accept the fact that 60 yr old Florrie, who eats shedloads more than me and doesn’t exercise at all, lost more weight. Okay, she doesn’t drink anything stronger than water and tea, but really…This is war. Weight War and I will be victorious.

In your face sexagenarian! I really should stop with the “In your face” shouldn’t I :)

Tell you what though, that’s just the way I am.

Tell you what again though, I’m desperate for a bowl of nachos.

“Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking"
H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Crashed, crushed and just plain crazy Ice.

A winter’s Friday saw Pat, Gary and me pile into the car for a weekend in the Limburger town of Valkenburg. Tony was already there. Along with about 5 of his friends in their late teens and early twenties they’d all qualified for the Red Bull Crashed Ice, World Championships. Ice hockey players from all over the globe had withstood a number of qualifying heats to participate in this internationally infamous event. Luckily they’re all padded up in their hockey armour and helmets. Sounds easy enough though,  doesn’t it? Until of course, one gets a glimpse of the “piste”. A man made downhill slalom course. The start line was at 150 foot high, the first part of this being a horrendously steep hill, with wave like bumps at the bottom, then a very sharp curve to the right, an uphill u-turn, more waves and on it went for what seemed like miles until the last few meters when a nasty looking obstacle called ‘the teeth” saw the end of this ice-covered danger.

 At least that’s what I saw. Tony and his team mates saw the challenge of a lifetime and prepared themselves thoroughly, by partying all night and every night of the event.

Tony and His buddy, Tommy were knocked out in the first qualifier but his other pals were through to the second heats. We all waited by the side barriers of this impressive structure, the freezing and damp  air penetrating our clothes and assailing our tear ducts as the atmosphere gradually increased to a frenzy of excited gasps. The first 4 contestants were in place. Craning our necks we strained to see if “our” boys were in the first group. Slowly the news filtered through. they had been allocated heats 21 and 52. Good grief, how many heats were there and how long did we have to stand here in this invisible ice-bath. Suddenly a collective and excited whooping began as gates opened and the first of these ice-hockeyers flew past in a flash of colour and a spray of ice. They fell, the stumbled, they landed on their knees and jumped straight back up. they somersaulted, they slammed against the boards and then they all got up again. Amazing! We waited with trepidation for Jordy, Sander and Erwin, T’s mates to pass. Barely glimpsing them, as they too whizzed down this slope, sometimes stumbling and falling but determined to make it to the end. Jordy and Erwin qualified for the following day. Hot Damn and huge grins all round –  as realization that two of our own Leiden Lions were though to the final, sank in. They’re both about 19, slight of build, dwarfed by giant athletes of international status but wow, did they make an impact.

Excitement over, we popped back to the athletes village and crashed for a while in the boys’ cabin. Passing the cabin windows, a steady stream of athletes made their way back to their digs for the same. Our company looking outside, were flabbergasted by the amount of limping and sling bedecked young men who passed by. One lad had lost his helmet on his way down. He was thrilled that we had a film of it happening. In fact it seemed to be his cherry on the icing on the cake! Bless him.

Saturday and a definite buzz in the air. Tony and his friends had been partying the night before and had very kindly taken Gareth with them. It’s great to see these kids interact. They’re all varying ages and absolutely different characters yet it all works somehow. A team indeed. Gareth opted to spend the day with his peers, so Pat and I took a stroll in the busy little town centre. Very few shops and an awful lot of bars – Heaven’s above, it was Holyhead with a Dutch accent!

And then, it was evening.

We didn’t see Erwin before the event but we saw his Mum, Ellie. She was probably more nervous than her son and the pride was palpable.

The boys had organized tickets for the VIP area for all us parents. Unlimited red-bull products and lots of snackage provided the base for distraction from the pending two hour interval.

We waited for May, Jordy’s mum, who had stayed with her young athlete, providing support and calming his nerves and when she arrived we delved into the free buffet. It’s a good life being the parent of an athlete, indeed it is. May and the boys had made a banner for Jordy, it looked great and stood out wonderfully against the crowd. Unfortunately some over-zealous jobsworth made them take it down because it was distracting. Obviously having no knowledge of the focus required to make it up, down and over that course. Perhaps he assumed the banner would cause Jordy to take notice, stop dead and want his photo taken on the downward turn as his competition flew by? <-- sarcasm alert.

I’m no hero and it got too cold for me, not to mention the very tall people all around impeding my view, I went inside and took full advantage of the wide screen, ginormous tv’s showing the race from start to finish.

Boy did those kids do well. Erwin and Jordy still teenagers and flying the flag for Holland. The crowd went wild as the compere announced their names – this Welsh Mam had a bit of a yell too. Both boys did very well but unfortunately didn’t get into the finals. The finishing athletes were all of the Russian, Canadian, Polish and Czech nationality and all a lot older and more experienced than our young Dutchmen. Everyone realized what a massive achievement they had made and you know what, they all want to go back next year.

I’m always so proud of my boys and Tony is such a warrior to get as far as he did. I’m also so very proud of "our” boys – Jordy and Sander Boulnouar, Tommy van Beek, Erwin Knoester and all the wonderful, brave young men who faced the overwhelming challenge of Crashed Ice, completed the course and left there with a smile on their faces.

After the after party, of course. And the After, after party. And the After, after, after party.

Long Live Adrenalin.

“The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.” 
Ralph Waldo Emerson