A pain in the neck

You don’t realise how much you use something when all of a sudden it hurts to use it. My right hand, for example, is very important when it comes to work and play. So when it felt like it was going to drop off a couple of weeks ago, trying not to use it caused all sorts of problems.

Texting left handed I can just about manage, but wiping my bum? Ha, only joking. Basically, to cut a long story short, my hand has been playing up for the best part of six months – burning knuckles, shooting pains, numbness and general seizing up. Not ideal.t

So after two trips to the doctors – both of whom looked a bit baffled by my complain – I got referred to the Blackberry Clinic for a specialist’s opinion. I’m no stranger to this clinic having hopped in with a sprained ankle last year and a rickety shoulder earlier this year. And they say playing sport is good for you? Hmmmm.

Anyhoo, I have a diagnosis. Apparently I have Work Related Upper Limb Disorder Type II, which kinda makes me sound like a bit of a freak. Perhaps I am. I had my suspicion that I had RSI, but the specialist informs me this is not the case, and while similar, my said disorder is very much treatable.

What’s really interesting is that my hand isn’t the problem. My hand’s fine apparently. It’s my neck and shoulders that are the problem. I can’t remember exactly what was said but basically I have really weak neck muscles, curvy shoulders (not quite the hunchback of Notre Dame, but not far off) and my neck doesn’t sit quite right. I’m all out of kilter.

So, what’s the cure? No, not to chop my head off – that would put pay to my modelling career (as if) – but a series of visits to an osteopath and a physio. This could get expensive.

I had my first session with the osteopath earlier in the week and she proceeded to roll me into some very odd positions and practically lie on me in order to click my back. It didn’t hurt but I can’t say it was the nicest feeling. And it’s very hard to follow orders to relax when you’re topless on a bed with an osteo lying across you. But she’s given me some neck stretching exercises to do and I have to ice my neck three times a day with a bag of frozen peas!

Still, it’ll all be worth it if it stops the pain in my hand, which is referred pain due to my duff neck and shoulders. I also need to reassess the way I work, particularly at home where I slouch or even lie on the sofa with the Macbook Pro sliding off my lap. Not good.

Playing volleyball doesn’t aid my freaky diagnosis either as the position I play requires me to look up all the time, squeezing the nerves in my neck and agrivating the problem. Not playing isn’t an option though – and to be fair, that hasn’t been suggested. I’m an athlete, without sport I’m… well…, not an athlete.

So folks, I may be a freak but I can be cured. Will keep y’all posted. If you care, that is ;0)

Focus on fitness

Volleyball and netball season has drawn to a close and now my writing course has ended I find myself with a fair bit of time on my hands. With no more volleyball or netball training/matches until August (save for the summer netball tournament if it goes ahead) what on earth will I do with myself? Well, crack on with the next fitness campaign, of course..

My buddy reccommended a personal trainer to me and this little bundle of fitness – her name is Jade – has put together a six-week training plan tailored to my needs and aims.It rocks, in a “no pain, no gain” kind of way!

What do I want to achieve?

• To look like Kelly Brook in six weeks. Actually, just to look and feel fitter will be fine
• To notice a difference in my shape, noticeably the muffin top which volleyball and netball seem to neglect
• To give me a focus over the summer
• To maintain/increase fitness levels ahead of the new sports season
• To make sure I look hot on the beach in July

So, Jade has taken the above into account and meticulously put together a programme of activity, which includes five days of exercise per week, with two rest days. Activities include swimming, biking, running and a series of weights and evil lunge type exercises to boot. Jade talked me through the programme to make sure I was happy and inside I was chuckling to myself ‘cos she kept referring to me as an athlete. She knows all about my volleyballing and netballing activities and has therefore labelled me of athletic ability. I like it!

I started my programme today with a half hour sesh of weights and lunges, plus the plank and a bit of wobbling around on a fitness ball, followed by 50 minutes in the pool where I managed 88 lengths. I was knackered. I’m not used to weights and lunges and I felt a bit sick after doing some backward crunch things. And while 50 minutes in the pool did drag a bit – and I looked like a wrinkled prune when I got out – I felt bloody good, if a little tired, afterwards. That’s the feeling of achievement my friends!

Coupled with a decent diet and a whole load of discipline I’m hoping I stick to this programme and see the benefits come mid-June. Jade also said you need to eat every three hours or the body thinks it’s starving and I know this is something I can stick to. Sadly, you can’t snack on cakes and biccies, boo.

Tomorrow’s fitness agenda comprises a half hour run which will be a challenge – I’m a crap runner and usually give up after 10 minutes – so it will be interesting to see where I get the stamina from. Wish me luck!

Size zero campaign

Since January I have been busting a gut to crank up the fitness and achieve a hot bod. Muffin tops and love handles are sooo 2008.

Me and my buddy call this the Size Zero Campaign. Okay, so we don”t actually want to look emaciated and sticky out bones isn’t a good look, but we do want to become toned goddesses, turning heads wherever we go. Not unreasonable?

So, how do we set about achieving this near impossible goal? Well, we now have a team fruit bowl at work (but our director keeps bringing in cakes in a bid to thwart our efforts, damn him) and we joined the gym.

Now, I play sport four times a week as it is so squeezing three gym trips in as well is pretty tough. But, in the name of Size Zero, that’s what has to be done.

So, my mate Ruby does her little terrier routine on the cross trainer followed by weights that Geoff Capes would struggle to lift and I try and stay on the running machine without falling off. The cute guy in the little vest is a huge distraction and when my water bottle fell out of the holder and onto the treadmill I swiftly decided hurdling wasn’t for me.

S0, 40 minutes of cardio a day and you’re golden in terms of health and fitness, apparently. So why, after weeks of sweaty workouts and the fruit-induced toilet trips do I still look EXACTLY the same?

Okay, so maybe the love handles have slimmed down a bit and my jeans are a weeny bit looser so now I can actually breathe in them, but I’m still a size 12. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but I don’t feel I’m getting a good enough return on my investment, that’s all.

My volleyball coach has noted an improvement in my performance on court and this is no doubt to do with practically living in the gym, but still. Where’s the Size Zero version of me? Buried deep beneath the size 12 version, that’s where.

Okay, so I have fallen off the wagon a few times – I am only human – and sometimes cakes call my name and force me to eat them – but I’m pretty damn active and expected weight to fall off me like water out of a fountain. Nope.

I think the problem is – and bear with me, here’s the science – that I workout at cardio level which means struggling to breathe, a rapid heart rate and losing vision due to the amount of sweat in my eyes. This is the workout I like.

What I’m supposed to do (I think) is to work out at fat burning rate which involves being able to breathe, lower heart rate and only mild sweating. Which makes you look like a pussy in the gym! But that’s how you burn fat as opposed to just getting fitter. Oh dear.

I think this is where my competitive edge does me no good. If there’s a guy on the cross trainer kicking out his arms and legs at level nine, then I automatically want to crank my machine up to level 10, I just can’t help myself.

Hmm. The Size Zero Campaign continues… Watch this space…

Tip of the week

Want to shed a few pounds in the weight department and gain a few pounds in the cash department? Then here’s my tip: start planning your meals.

This is something I started for 2009 and so far it’s working; I’m spending less money on my food shopping, only need one supermarket trip per week and I am eating healthy, balanced meals that taste scrummy too. No more microwave meals for one! And it doesn’t mean spending hours in the kitchen either.

What I do is draw up a chart, with columns for each day of the week under the following headings: breakfast, lunch and tea, and a fourth section for whatever you do in your evenings. Mine is pretty much defined by a sporting activity, but this could include cinema trips, eating out, seeing friends or working an evening shift.

The first three columns are relatively simple. Just write in what you plan to have for each daily meal. And this is where the fourth column comes in: it helps you decide what to have for tea, depending on how much time you have, and also what to have for tomorrow’s lunch. Will you have time to prepare it the night before?

I know that if I have volleyball training in Leicester on Wednesdays that I’ll need a quick bite to eat before I jump on the M1 – beans on toast perhaps? – and I won’t want to be preparing the next day’s lunch when I get home at midnight, so Thursday’s lunch will probably be a tin of soup.

I only do one shop a week, on a Thursday, and the food I buy keeps me going all week, because I’ve planned it all out. And I’m not throwing away an abundance of rotting leftovers, a common occurance when you live alone.

It sounds like a bit of a chore to be so organised, but it’s saving me time, money and even effort. Before, I was quite capable of spending £80 in Tesco and still have very little that would combine to make a meal, let alone a week’s worth. And I would always nip into Tesco Xpress to get milk, fruit, bread and whatever else took my fancy, on a regular basis. And I could come home after a long day followed by a sporting session only to find I had an empty fridge… and a rumbling tummy.

I know this is a really boring thing to write about but it really has revolutionised the way I eat and shop for food. I am better off and my diet has improved. And I’m enjoying cooking, sometimes experimenting and coming up with new dishes/food combos.

Just try it folks, see how you get on. And if you have any quick and easy recipes, feel free to share…

An ode to Edith

My mum just called five minutes ago to break the bad news that my nan, who’s been in hospital for a good month or so, has passed on. Bless her.

So, being totally rubbish with emotions and even more crap with death, I’m going to blog about her. I don’t feel upset really, not in the tearful sense; as much as I loved my nan – she had a wicked personality and was a very strong woman – the past year has been pretty miserable for her, so I hope she’s finally found peace.

The last few years have seen my nan – or Edith as me and my brother called her as kids, ‘cos we thought it was such a funny name – deteriorate in the health stakes quite rapidly. For someone with such an active brain and stubborn independence to lose her memory, get confused and forget if she’s even eaten, must have been pretty tough.

But even though she was a bit of a wreck on the health front, she still retained her wit. On my last visit to her house, she asked me if I’d found a fella yet. She asked me this about 10 times ‘cos her memory wasn’t so good. Each time I’d say no, that I was very fussy and hadn’t found one I liked yet. And she’d reply: “Well, they’re all arseholes anyway.” Perhaps she wasn’t losing her marbles after all! Some would say that’s a spot on observation!

She was also stubborn as old boots. She hasn’t been able to hear very well for a good five years, but just refused to accept it. She couldn’t hear us because we mumbled apparently and the TV was only at full volume because it was old. Yeah, right. So a few years back me and mum took her shopping and happened to pop into Boots to get her a hearing test at the same time. She was very pissed off and even after being tested and given a hearing aid, she refused to believe there was anything wrong with her ears. We were fighting a losing battle.

Even when she’d had a nosebleed from hell and my brother found her covered from head to toe in the stuff, she went into denial. My bro asked: “Have you had another nosebleed nan?” he asked. “No, I don’t think so,” she replied.

There are many other amusing stories I could tell about my nan, she was a real character, a woman of strength, a real fighter. And I’ve no doubt she hung onto life until she’d said goodbye to all the people she cared about. I think I knew when I saw her a couple of weeks ago that it might well be the last time, and then I did get upset. Especially as I saw a glint in her eye as I left her hospital bedside. She knew what was going on and she knew why I was upset. Even on death’s door, she knew what was what.

So, if I’m anything like her when I’m a tabbard-wearing, blue-rinsed granny, I’ll be chuffed. Here’s to Edith! Love you lots!

Am I a well person? Hmmm

A trip to the occupation health department at work today has informed me of the following – my blood sugar and cholesterol level are excellent, meaning I have a balanced diet and I’m not diabetic. All good.

However, apparently I am a binge drinker whose BMI is teetering on the edge of “overweight”.

They were offering these screenings at work and I thought I may as well go along. I had no idea about cholesterol etc and whether mine was good or bad so it was interesting to find out, even if it did mean stabbing my finger and seeing blood.

Now, I don’t smoke, never have, and I do up to four hours of exercise a week. Excellent, said the nurse. What about alcohol consumption? I explained that it’s quite difficult to work it out on a weekly basis. I can easily go a fortnight without touching a drop and then consume three bottles of wine or equivalent on a night out. Hmmm, she said.

“I know it’s not the healthiest way to drink,” I blurted out, but it was too late. The “bad for your liver” speech had started. I know that this way of drinking isn’t good and that a glass of wine a day would be better for me. But I don’t always fancy a drink, especially not on a school night, and when I do go out or have a special event to attend I like to make the most of it.

“I’m sure as you get older you’ll binge drink less,” the nurse said. “Yes” I replied, “Because my hangovers are getting worse.”

Right, onto my BMI which is 25 apparently. Anything above this and you’re classed as overweight. I’m teetering on the edge apparently although I’m not convinced the BMI is a good measure of a healthy weight.

I don’t confess to being a skinny minnie but I don’t think anyone would class me as overweight either. I play a lot of sport, am tall and a size 12. Pretty normal really. But what BMIs fail to take into account is muscle.

A lot of my friends are athletic folk and therefore carry a bit more muscle than the Average Joe. But, as muscle weighs more than fat, this tends to have a negative impact on their BMI. A few of my friends have been classed as obese – which is just plain libellous in my view.

The nurse also asked me about stress management. I didn’t tell her about the mass of ex boyfriends buried under the patio but explained that my sporting activities took care of all that. This has definitely been proved by the six-week break I had when I rolled my ankle. Stress build up and anger was present on a daily basis. Friends will confirm this. And I defo put weight on during this time, adding to my inflated BMI

So, am I a well person? Generally yes, but I need to change my drinking habits (unlikely) and lose a bit of weight (possible, since I am reclaiming my fitness level after the ankle injury and have embarked on my campaign to get a body fit for beach exposure come June).

Wading through April

Today is the last day of March which means tomorrow will be April. No flies on me, eh! As much as I’m glad the clocks have gone forward and we’ll get lighter nights, I’m not looking foward to April; it’s gonna be a long month.

Why? Well, my dreaded CRT will be issued this Friday – the first essay/exam type thing as part of my CIPR Diploma and it means I need to pull my finger out and do some work. It means dedicating any free time I have to reading, studying, revising, researching - what ever you want to call it - so I actually know what I’m writing about.

This will be made increasingly difficult by the fact that three out of four Saturdays in April are taken up with work commitments. Well, the first one is my CIPR tutorial at the London Met Uni, then I have to interview some Naval pilots at a degree ceremony at The Barbican the following Saturday and then attend a degree ceremony in Torquay the Saturday after that. 

Add these work commitments and study/essay writing – I have less than a month to complete two essays and send them off - with the fact that I’ve launched my pre-summer fitness campaign and already I’m starting to loathe April.

If I want to look like a goddess on the beach this summer I need to start working on the old health and fitness routine now. I started this yesterday with a run (well, it was more like a long walk with a short run in the middle), a stint on the cross trainer and a few weights and sit-ups. I now have a huge blister on my heel and will no doubt hobble around the korfball court tonight.

So, April is gonna be a long month and one where fun things will have to take a backseat while I concentrate on work and study, with a bit of fitness in between. But it’s only one month and when May comes round it’ll be time to enjoy myself – or reward myself, even, for all my hard work.

Skipping ropes should come with a health warning

A skipping rope’s a pretty danger-free toy you’d think. But no. This thing that little girls enjoy in the playground and boxers use as part of their training doesn’t come with instructions. Or a health warning. How tricky can it be to use a bit of rope with two handles?

So why is it that I find myself with a huge red welt on my arm – caused by a skipping rope?!It’s not that I spend my time playing hopscotch and kiss-catch etc, I just use a skipping rope in my bid to stay (or should I say get) fit. It’s a great fat burner apparently.

But last night I did myself an injury and it bloomin’ hurt. I didn’t let the the two burly guys I was training with see the sting-induced tears well up in my eyes but I did say a few words which weren’t very lady-like.

So watch out people. You may be abkle to take on the great outdoors, go a few rounds in a boxing ring or ski down mountains. But those skipping ropes? They’re dangerous, handle with care.