Thursday, 3 May 2012

Sorry Sir Bob, but...

Hmmm… I may have to clarify something from yesterday’s entry

… I wrote: “I seem to be getting closer to where I want to be in terms of which buckle hole I use on my belt…”. And I am. But let’s not put this down to just a few miles – running is not magic…

… I feel I may have accidentally misplaced a few pounds already mainly because this running malarkey has had an impact on my eating habits. I am getting better at turning down my wife’s advances in the shape of freshly baked cakes and biscuits, for example. But, probably more helpfully, I am no longer playing the role of the vacuum-cleaner in this house. Let me elaborate.

I follow in my father’s and in my grandfathers’ footsteps in enjoying “healthy portions”. All four of us exceeded 6ft in height, so that shouldn’t be surprising. All fairly big blokes, some courtesy of more muscle than others. My Dad’s Dad was on track to represent Italy as a rower in the 1916 Olympics, had they ever been held… some stupid war denied him his chance. Now that’s a lot of muscle…
…far more than I would know what to do with. Or ever could dream of. And my other grandfather (‘Nonno’, as opposed to ‘Granddad’) was no slouch. Now, Karen and I have two lovely boys, who will turn 5 and 3 respectively in the next couple of months. As most children of that age, they don’t always polish off their plates at mealtimes. And I despise waste – always did anyway, courtesy of male role models, and then along came Sir Bob to make me feel really bad if I left something on my plate whilst another starving child in Africa died. So, over the years, I have never been one to leave food on my plate. Some reckon you’re meant to leave a little as a sign of appreciation: what a load of nonsense! As a Northerner, I see no greater indication of appreciation than eating it all up. Seriously!
You can see where I’m heading here, can’t you? And you’re right. If my kids leave anything uneaten, I feel a moral obligation to ensure it goes into my stomach rather than the recycling bin (the brown one, the food one). Even when full and content, I generally find it physically hard to throw away good stuff – and I have the belly to prove it. However, now that I am investing time and effort into reducing its size, I find it genuinely easier to throw the boys’ food away and even to turn down treats. I don’t want to compromise at the table the work I am finally putting in on the road.

So yes, you could argue I’m more conscious about the weight-loss side of things than I let on yesterday. Maybe I am. But the reasons are just as I outlined yesterday: to make the running easier, in the long r… (sorry) and to make sure I fit into these trustworthy jeans for many a day to come. Not as a fashion statement, but as a tightness statement.

I did nip out for a run yesterday, by the way. I ran for 16’ before slowing down to walking pace. Not a huge change in pace, I grant you. But sixteen minutes… I have no corroborative evidence, but that could well be the longest Giacomo Oliver Squintani has ever run. Ee bah gum!

p.s.: I did a little googling to back up my comment about leaving a little food on the plate. In doing so, I came across the scurrilous suggestion that “Applying garnishes before the food is tasted is viewed as an insult to the cook, as it shows a lack of faith in their ability to prepare a meal.” Has tha never tasted Hendo’s?

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