11 Jul 2005, Emsworth
Alby McCracken of Para-Anchors Australia rang this morning, replying to my e-mail asking about these essential items in the ocean rower's armoury. He sounded remarkably cheery, considering it was 9pm in Australia and he was still at work.
We've arranged to meet at the Southampton Boat Show in September to discuss the ins and outs of para-anchors - a large fabric parachute that I trail from the bow of my boat into the sea, to stop me being blown too far backwards if the winds turn against me.
Seems I'm going to have a truly internationally-equipped boat - kangaroo skin gloves and oars from Oz, biltong from South Africa, homeopathic remedies from New Zealand, iTrip from the USA, and what no ocean rower should be without - an alpaca-skin seat cover from Peru. Sheepskin? - pah!
|
Comments [0]
10 Jul 2005, Emsworth
Porridge with mashed strawberries and salted cashew nuts may sound a bit weird, but it's a surprisingly acceptable low-GI alternative to my previous preferred option - porridge with banana, dried apricots and demarara sugar. Maybe this new eating regime isn't going to be as tough as I imagined. Quite fancy a coffee though, and that's definitely off-limits.
The principle underlying my new diet is to moderate the fluctuations in my blood sugar levels. By avoiding caffeine and refined sugar, and moderating alcohol intake, the objective is to maintain more consistent energy levels. In the long term this should also lead to leaner body mass, as the body isn't confused by sugar crashes into thinking it's starving and has to lay down reserves of fat. I've just hit half a stone over my ideal weight, and no, it isn't muscle - unless the muscle is extremely relaxed and centred around my midriff.
I don't believe in diets in the sense of a short-term bikini-motivated fad, followed by a return to the eating habits that created fat in the first place. But if by eating differently I can enhance my energy levels and improve my longevity, I'm all in favour.
So let's see how the GI goes. If it's good enough for Kylie, it's good enough for me. But the proof of the pudding, so to speak, is in the eating.
|
09 Jul 2005, The fridge
The new dietary regime starts tomorrow. So obviously today I have to somehow dispose of all forbidden foodstuffs, and I hate to see good food go to waste so it seems best to eat it all.
Yesterday I went to see my new nutritionist (or 'nutritional therapist') Natalie. Natalie was my crewmate in the Oxford Lightweights Eight in 1989, and by coincidence lives about 50 yards from my house in Emsworth.
She reminded me of some important nutritional principles - of course I've read the books and KNOW that caffeine and sweet scrummy things set me off on a rollercoaster of sugar highs followed by sugar crashes - I'd just chosen to ignore the fact. But it seems my insomnia and fluctuating energy levels are symptoms of this blood sugar imbalance, and I need to mend my ways before we can move on to greater refinements of my nutritional programme. 'Otherwise', as Natalie eloqently put it, 'we're just polishing a turd.'
So it's out with the coffee and cookies, and in with the decaf and nuts and seeds. But not just yet. My friend Angus came down from London to visit me last night, and we sat down on the quayside in the sunshine and polished off a bottle of rose with some fantastically fresh prawns from Starr's butchers and fishmongers. And then we went to the Crown for a glass or two. Then another bottle of wine with dinner... so of course the blood sugar levels are all over the shop today and I'm munching my way through all manner of forbidden foods.
Just a final hurrah before going cold turkey, honestly, Natalie.
|
08 Jul 2005, Safely back in Emsworth
I was on the train to London yesterday for some meetings about my Prince's Trust fundraiser. My friend Nick Jones rang. 'You might have some problems getting into London. There's been an explosion and some stations are closed.'
Then Rodney Byram, one of the people I was meant to be meeting, texted me: 'Don't come into town today. Not safe. 3 buses have exploded, no tubes. Stay away. Now four buses.'
My sister and mother rang to check I was OK. It started to feel like 9/11, when I was hiking on my own in Scotland and my only source of information as events unfolded was from calls on my mobile phone from concerned friends and relatives.
Still my train headed northwards, and I wondered whether to persevere. I'd been up since 1.30am - I'd woken in the wee small hours worrying about how I would meet the new accelerated payment schedule for the race entry fee. And tiredness makes me indecisive.
Eventually the announcement came over the train's loudspeakers. Major incidents in London. All passengers advised to avoid the capital if at all possible. The meetings were important, but not that important. I turned around.
There seemed to be death everywhere - a fatality at Chichester - in all I spent £23 and 4 hours going nowhere. But how can I whinge, when there are people lying dead and injured. Just as with 9/11, my heart bleeds for a city I used to call home. There but for the grace of God...
|
