Robyn’s Nest

I must have reached the age where us girlies start fretting about our weight. Well, I think girls of any age fret about their weight but lately it seems like some kind of epidemic has taken hold. All I hear is “I’ve started a healthy eating regime”, “I’m on a diet”, “I need to lose weight” or ”I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been”. Bla bla bla bla.

Honestly, who cares? Yes, I would love to shed a stone but if it means starving myself, avoiding any kind of occasion where there might be cake and pretending to be satisfied after scoffing a rabbit food lunch, then I’m just not interested.

Maybe I’m unsympathetic to diets because they just don’t work for me. I’ve tried a few out, just like every other gal on the planet, but for me it’s more a scientific experiment than an attempt to shed poundage. I did the Carol Vorderman detox diet some years ago and wrote a weekly column for the newspaper I was working for. It was pure hell and the column inches were the only thing that got me through it. I felt shite, had a permanent headache and wanted to chew my own hand off at the end of the month. I did feel wonderful after four weeks, sleeping like a baby and bouncing around with energy. But I’d only lost a couple of pounds.

I did lose a bit when I did the five day tree syrup diet. Basically had to substitute food with a gloopy drink for five days and although I had a nice flat tummy at the end of it, I was utterly miserable. I like eating food, I like the taste of eating food and I want to carry on eating food. I don’t want to swap my size 12 for a size zero if it means no more rare steaks, chocolate brioche or cheesecake.

I understand some people want/need to lose weight but most of the people I know who say they’re going on diets actually don’t look any different afterwards. If I’m going to the effort to eat celery for a fortnight I want to look damn good by day 14!

Nope, diets are not for me. That said, if I didn’t play sport I would be the size of a house. For me, exercise is a fun way of ensuring I can eat like food it’s going out of fashion. Okay, so I can’t shake off the love handles, but if we all had figures like pencils life wouldn’t be very interesting would it?

Doughnut anyone?

Okay, so I am still the right side of 30 but I am seriously noticing the difference between 18 and 28. I played a lot of sport when I was 18 and I play a lot of sport now, the difference being I could walk off a netball court 10 years ago feeling a bit hot and sweaty but generally fine. Now I walk off court looking like a sweat-soaked beetroot, pain in at least two joints and usually needing a walking stick to get out of bed the following morning.

Yesterday, for example, I played in an all day charity volleyball tournament. By the end of the day I was shattered - not helped by the huge amount of cake I consumed (cake stall funds were all for charity and I had to do my bit) - and in a bit of pain. My dodgy ankle was swollen and aching when I removed my trainers, I somehow strained the back of my knee a few weeks back and volleyball only served to aggravate it, and my wrist and my back hurt too.

And last week, when I played netball against a team of 14-year-olds, I seriously felt old. They were young, agile, fit, as tall as me, and ran rings around us. Yes, we were more experienced, but that doesn’t mean much when your opponents are three stone lighter and don’t yet know the meaning of calorie counting and high BMIs.

Even when I was off court (we rotated players every now and then) sweat was still pouring off me and I could feel my red face physically warming up the room. This never used to happen! I must be getting older.

I’m now sat at my desk at work and my shoulders ache. Moving from my chair is a struggle as I seize up if I sit still for too long. Maybe I’m just not as fit as I should be, or maybe the fact I’m heavier than I used to be means I’m putting more strain on my body and this is its way of complaining?

But I take comfort in the fact I’m not alone. Yesterday’s tournament was filled with people limping off court, clutching their backs, wearing ankle and knee supports and generally looking pooped. So I’m in good company!

I’ve been a bad sport today. I didn’t go to the cricket practise session at lunch time and was secretly pleased I missed it.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, volunteering to play in a lunch hour cricket league at work, and joining with my fellow comms workers to create a six-a-side team.

Then reality hit. It’s a bit cold today, cricket balls are hard, I’m not very good with small balls (catching them I mean), and I’m wearing inappropriate footwear for running around on a field.

So when a work call came through and ran into my lunch hour I was actually relieved. They’d all gone without me and I wasn’t sure where they were practising. They wouldn’t miss me would they?

Well, on return from my trip to M&S I found a map of the university campus I work at sitting on my desk with the cricket field highlighted in green. My excuse of not knowing where it is won’t wash a second time!

Anyway, all sport is good so volunteering was fine. But I somehow got pushed into being wicket keeper which I think means wearing gloves and a helmut. There goes my glam image.

I don’t even know what a wicket keeper is and was told it’s like a batstop in rounders. Batstop? I always thought it was backstop! Eek, this is not going to be a good display of my sporting skills.

I also have a fear of small balls after a rounders ball smacked me in the face at school. The sun was in my eyes and as I went to catch it the ball disappeared from sight and bounced off my face. I’d only had my brace taken off the week before and was a little concerned about my teeth falling out of my mouth.

So, looks like I’m stuck with this cricket business, despite missing practise today. People are already dropping out - bad knees, a dead dog (this girl doesn’t even have a dog) and hair getting wet when it rains. Looks like they need me, even if I am super crap. Oh, balls to it!

My eyes are so tired and dry and I’m blinking so much that people probably think I’ve got some kind of nervous twitch. I haven’t, I’m just fookin’ knackered.

The reason for my sore peepers? Dehydration’s probably got something to do with it - I don’t drink enough water - but I’ve been overdoing it on the sport front lately and it’s taking it’s toll.

They say exercise is good for you, and I’d be the first to endorse that fact usually, but today I think I need a bit of a rest. Last week I spent five out of seven nights playing sport - korfball, netball and volleyball - and last night I had korfball training and netball training back to back. I resembled somthing along the lines of a beetroot with a sweat problem when I got home!

So, not only have I got tired eyes, but my bones are aching too, particularly my shoulders, and my calves are twinging at regular intervals - probably not a good idea to be wearing killer heels to work then, eh?

Despite the utter relief that I’m not playing in tonight’s netball match (’cos I’m not insured/affiliated to the league yet) and my desperate need for a night in front of the box, I do think sport is a truly great thing.

Not only does it allow me to eat pretty much what ever I want (diets don’t work for me, and I can easily polish off a tub of ice cream in one sitting), it keeps me fit and gives me a great social life. My sporting chums are much-os fun-os.

I’ve never been a fan of the gym, I haven’t got the motivation to attend, although I have on a couple of occasions invested in an annual membership only to give up after a couple of inspired months. Lessons learned there.

Sport, on the other hand, gets me motivated from the off. I play because a) it’s a chance to catch up with mates and get the latest gossip, b) it’s a fun way of keeping fit, c) if I don’t keep playing/training I might get a bit rusty, which leads to d) if i play/train crap then I may lose my place on the team or sacrifice some of my court time to better players. I’m hoping at some point there’ll be an e) - fit male players to dribble over - but at the moment this is not the case.

So, tonight’s sporting activity will include changing channels on the TV and trying out new seating positions on the sofa. And if I’m feeling really energetic, I might run a bath.

Aaaarrrggghhh. That’s what I feel like today. I’m pretty fed up. I kinda feel like I’ve got all this frustration building up that I can’t get rid of. And if I don’t get rid of it I might just explode.

Now what I don’t want to happen is for me to snap at someone unecessarily at work, shout at a friend over the phone, or drive my car into a lake. What I need to do - and which solve the problem completely - is play sport. BUT. I. CAN’T.

My damn ankle injury, although really not that serious considering (no fracture by the way, hoorah) is seriously limiting my fun. Already I’ve missed three volleyball games and two training sessions, plus two rounds of korfball, and I feel like I want to kill someone.

The other day one of my buddies said - and this wins quote of the week for me as she said it with such conviction: “I’ve had such a bad day I really feel like being violent to someone.” I’m glad I was talking to her on the phone!

Anyway, usually my aggressions are taken out on the volleyball court and I’ve realised how much I miss playing. Not just ‘cos you get to run around and get sweaty with your mates - no boys, we do NOT play in bikinis - but because it’s good for fitness and for getting rid of all your frustrations.

I can’t think of a substitute sport which won’t involve my ankle and to ease my misery I’m shovelling down food as if the shops will stop selling it tomorrow. I know it’s totally unreasonable and overdramatic but I feel like a bit of a beached whale, destined to watch my athletic friends from the sidelines and spend the rest of my walking life in flat shoes. Insert violin music here.

Yes, I know I’ve mentioned the flat shoes way too many times but it’s peeing me off. I tried my ball dress on last night with flatties and I look like a complete plum. I know there is no solution - I cannot wear heels, mr physio says so - and this just fuels my increasing frustration.

Deep breaths… out with anger… in with love. There that’s better. NOT.

The knee pads I wear on a weekly basis (no I’m not mad, I play volleyball) look as good as new although they’ve been in my ownership for around five years. The few scuff marks they do show off are not a representation of my eagerness to pick up a ball by diving across the court, but the result of a mate pulling me around court on my knees. Well, I didn’t want them to have that brand new look!

The point I’m trying to make is that I don’t use my knee pads very often. I wear them, yes, as they make me feel less exposed on court, more protected. But to use them would mean hurling myself after a ball I am unlikely to reach, only to end up with scrapes, bruises and maybe even blood loss.

Although I may, on occasion, drop to my knees to pick up a ball, I don’t throw myself around to chase them because, quite frankly, it hurts. And women have bits that stick out - usually the bits you land on.

Anyway, this week my friend spent our two hour training session diving all over the court (showing us all up) but spent the following night writhing in agony because even the touch of a duvet on her tender knees made her squeal in pain. Silly girl, what was she thinking!

So now I ask myself why do we wear knee pads at all? Is there any need (or knee-d?). As long as my fellow sportswomen continue to wear knee pads I think I will follow suit - they make you feel sporty (you need to be in National League volleyball) they give you an extra confidence (just in case you do want to scrape your body across the floor) and it’s amusing when you push them down your leg at the end of a game/training (so you can bend you knees again!) and some bright spark asks wou why you’re wearing shin pads.

See http://www.leicestervolleyballclub.net/