FitBit-of-a-let-down

TL:DR Summary: There are a lot of nice things about the FitBit Charge 2 but they don't make up for the substandard construction and the fact it is sold as having features which are not actually fully available to all users.

First post in an absolute age! I've not really been very successful at training for much for the past couple of years; depression, anxiety, tiredness, busy-ness.... all of these conspired to take me off the trail and onto the sofa. However, I decided that 2018 was going to be my year to pull it back before I hit the literal middle of my 30s. And I've achieved a lot, I'm pretty pleased with myself which is not a familiar feeling for me. I am going to write more positive posts later about what's worked for me and how & why I think things have improved.

But why not start on a slightly negative note?! After all, that way, things can only move on up.

Let's talk about fitness trackers.

Early in the year, I made, what for me was, a big choice to invest in a fitness tracker. Big, because I basically work for myself and have very little in the way of cashflow. Apparently, starting a social enterprise doesn't make you rich, so dropping £100+ on something means I have to go without something else. That's obviously fine, if the benefits outweigh the cost, so I made sure to do my due diligence I put some time into research, and the FitBit Charge 2 seemed to fit best with what I wanted namely:

• Step counting
• Activity monitoring
• Heart rate recording
• GPS tracking (through your phone)
• Partial phone notifications
• And crucially; Windows Phone connectivity

(Aside: for what it's worth, I know the snort of derision you just let out. I hear it every day and tbh I'm kind of over it. Yeah, I've still got a Windows Phone - why the.... why would I waste the resources (both mine and the world's) on getting a new phone when I have one that functions well? Basically the only reason is: app writers don't write apps for my phone any more - that's not my phone's fault. We're mates, we've been through a lot together. 20 years straight with a Nokia phone; it'll be a difficult break when it happens. /end rant)

Aiight so the Charge 2: pretty enamoured with it, for a few hours. Before I launch into the moaning, let me lay out some general likes & dislikes.....

I like:

1. The app
2. The range of activities covered
3. Auto-detection of exercise (especially for walking)
4. The silent alarms/notifications
5. The hourly notifications to move
6. Active minutes tracking (mostly)
7. Sleep-tracking, though I'm not sure how much I trust it
8. Battery life is decent
9. Reasonable accuracy of HR detection - at slower rates anyway

I dislike: 

1. The heart-rate monitoring "tops out" at a certain level, maybe about 177 bpm, which I definitely go above when training really hard. Perhaps this is due to sampling errors, or maybe the tracker can't believe my heart can work that hard and still function (SURPRISE FitBit, this heart is an absolute beast) 
2. The fact it records steps when you're asleep (what??)... only like 20-50 but still, how difficult is it to NOT record steps when the tracker think you're sleeping??
3. The ridiculous number of extra steps it records when I'm getting dressed or folding stuff - we're talking a couple of hundred if I've got a couple of loads of washing to fold
4. Proprietary charger means you gotta remember to take your one charger with you or end up with data-less days (and a data-less day is a sad day for Angries)

But...

Despite its claims it does NOT have full WP connectivity, so I was basically mis-sold it. It does connect to update the app, but it cannot use the phone's GPS for activity tracking or phone notifications. When I raised the issue I was told they were working on it and it could well be fixed (spoiler alert: it hasn't been), and I was given a 6 month subscription to FitBit premium which is kind of pointless after about a day. I don't really get why anyone would pay the monthly fee for this service - mostly what I get out of it is a daily total from calories-from-activity, which would really be better that the calories-from-time-in-heart-rate-zones available on the app.

In addition to not being able to track using GPS, there is no way to alter the length of your running gait, so FitBit underestimates my running distances by around 10-20% (I know this because I have to wear my trusted Garmin Forerunner 410 as well for running or cycling if I've any interest in distances covered).

I could have put up with that happily though. I'm used to a crappier service from everyone. Really the only issue here i that I felt FitBit had purposefully mis-led me.

But then.

Within 3 months, the screen had cracked.

 

10th May - after purchasing on 29th January

17th July - cracks more pronounced and strap coming apart

Now - at less than 6 months old - the strap is coming apart, the screen has continued to crack, it's less responsive to finger taps (which is how it's controlled), it no longer gives me details of activities after I've finished them and I'm pretty sure it's underestimating my steps by around 10%. It's DEFINITELY underestimating the number of floors I've climbed, and I'm worried about it getting at all splashed because that could be the end of it. Not being funny, but these things should be supposed to last for years.

When I raised this issue with FitBit, I was told in no uncertain terms that this was NOT covered because this was user damage - it is not; no specific impact caused this to happen - or wear & tear. Let me just lay it out: if this sort of damage is counted as wear & tear within 3 months, this has not been designed with sufficient resilience for the purpose for which it's intended. In refusing to accept this, FitBit have effectively said that a) I am lying and/or b) they have not used sufficiently hard-wearing materials or design. Given that this is a fitness tracker, likely to be worn by active people, which they literally advise you to wear as much as you can, and that I do not have a particularly hard-wearing life and if I do activities like DIY which are more likely to result in damage, I take care to protect the tracker, or - more usually - take it off..... given all this, I think it's beyond unreasonable to shirk any responsibility for mis-selling a piece of kit.

They wouldn't budge - they had the gall to offer me a discount off a new tracker, but couldn't tell me why I'd buy something else from them when my only purchase so far has proved so disappointing.

Basically.... it has helped my fitness but I kind of wish I hadn't been effectively forced into choosing a FitBit and instead had been able to go with a Garmin. Obviously my next phone will not be Windows system at which point I'll have free choice, but I'll definitely be going with another make.

All-in-all; I'm not surprised FitBit are losing their lions' share of the fitness tracker market if they consider the Charge 2 to be a decent piece of wearable fitness for anyone with a vaguely active life.

The Great Jettison - emotional catharsis through physical catharsis!

Last year, as a Christmas present, I unashamedly asked for a pretty valuable gift. I asked my mum to gift me some of her time to help me sort through some of the mountain of stuff I have in my house that I don't want.

It's difficult to describe the effect that owning so much stuff has on me. I inherited an awful lot of things from my dad. He died on the 29th May, 2009, and I spent a large part of the subsequent summer trying to sort through his belongings, but there was just do much, it was impossible for me to do, despite the amazing help I got from so many friends. Eventually, when I'd reached my limit in both time and effort, I hired a removal van and stuck it all in storage. When I moved into my house a little over four years ago, I moved all this stuff in. I've been slowly sorting through it, and every now and then I have a bit of a breakthrough, and I feel a little more space.

But last Christmas, I still had so much stuff. The problem is, I feel the need (and I mean, I NEED) to sort through it before getting rid of it. Then I have to decide what to do with it - throwing things away is an absolute last resort (often a necessary resort, but still). So I have to sort things into sell (sub categories: eBay, carboot), give away (sub categories: friends, charity shops, freecycle), re-use (scraps of cloth, wood, metal - could well be useful!), and then recycling (sub categories: collection or dump).... and very last, bloody bin it. And that's just deciding what I should do, let alone actually getting on and listing, posting, packing, going to a carboot, giving away..... So getting my mum in with her disinterested viewpoint was a real boon. I had a big breakthrough, I got rid of quite a few things - but this seemed to pull out some vital stone in a wall I didn't realise I'd built, and promptly lead to a depressive episode. At the time, this felt horrible, as anyone who read this blog or spoke to me at the time will know, but ultimately it was a good thing. I hit rock bottom - but this gave me a platform from which to push off. It's been a journey, and I'm still occasionally stumbling, but the last year has seen some important changes - I'm still in counselling, I gave up my PhD, I got involved with Riverside Sourdough - something I love and truly believe in. I've slowly learnt that all the hallmarks of success and happiness that I thought I should be aiming for are not necessarily the ones that will actually make me happy.

This is the main theme of "Everything that Remains", a memoir by The Minimalists, which my friend Sally suggested I read as part of her new online book group (join in on Instagram! #pageturners #readcreateshare). A lot of it wasn't applicable to me (I do not have an insatiable need to buy new things, I don't always want new gadgets, I can't remember the last time I bought an item of clothing (bar socks and pants) at full price - most of my stuff comes from charity shops!). But, yes, I have inherited a lot of stuff.

I feel almost like a custodian, with a responsibility divvy it out the best I can. But that is a herculean task when you know how much of a collector my Dad was, and that's not even counting my Grandpa, whose stuff I have inherited after his death in September 2013. My dad's sister is still around, but there has been a massive breakdown in communication, and it doesn't seem there is a way to sort things out reasonably, without me being subject to accusations, including stealing from my Grandpa's dead body or whatever else she sees fit to make up and bandy about to anyone who will listen to her (a group which has pretty much diminished to zero members). All that is to come, and while I hope it will be easier that my dad's stuff, I am still terrified of letting go of some precious family relics. The worst thing is, all these relics.... I don't even know what they are, but I would still find it nigh on impossible to chuck away photographs, diaries, letters..... I know this may not make sense to everyone, but I've been brought up by a hoarder (sorry Dad, it's true) and it's not easy to break those early-learnt behaviours.

The authors, Joshua Fields Milburn & Ryan Nicodemus, made some really good points - a big one that I've taken away is to ask "does this add value to my life?" which is great in a lot of situations, but often I find that is a difficult judgement to make. Also, the main author really quite brushed over getting rid of his mum's stuff - he didn't even mention what happened to her dog! But as a direct result of reading this book, I've set myself small tasks. The first was to sort things into: eBay, Freecycle, car boot, and then begin to act on the first two. The carbooting will have to wait for a couple of weeks, but everything that comes back from that will either go straight to donating to charity shops, or if I enjoyed the experience and have a small number of items left that I still think someone would like. I'll head to a different market. The great thing is, once you start getting rid of stuff, the catharsis that results and the space and order that it inevitably leaves behind is such a big motivator that actually I start enjoying getting rid of things. But it's always good to let people know of your intentions and think that there might be someone who's tracking your progress, so with that in mind, here are some pictures of the first wave. (Well, almost.... Mum 'helped' me clear out my wardrobe recently, so a whole bin bag went to London to be sorted through by my sister and her friends.

Pre-sort

Post-sort: The eBay pile is front-centre, the Freecycle box front left, and the car-boot/else-wise pile behind

The starting point - Freecycle-a-go-go!

But the main thing I took from the book can be summed up in this quote:

"These days, I have little desire for new material possessions (although that baleful yearning still lingers from time to time), but I do want to be successful. And success for me has little to do with money, or possessions, or status. Rather, success is a simple equation: Happiness + Growth + Contribution = Success. That's the only kind of success I know. Hence I want to partake in work that makes me happy, work that encourages me to grow, work that helps me contribute beyond myself. Ultimately, I want to create more and consume less. Doing so requires real work"

I have had some moments of self-doubt since jumping off the track I was on - have I made the right decision? What am I doing with my life? Where will this lead me? Can I still consider myself a valuable member of society? Reading this brilliant book, and especially what is says along the above lines, helps me to appreciate that I can uncouple success with what I thought I should be doing, and just focus on things that actually bring me really joy, contentment, satisfaction and - yeah, growth. Mainly into all that space I'm creating by shifting my stuff!

Dear Scotland, from Wales

Dear Scotland,

Hey mate. Sorry we haven't chatted properly in a while. We've both been pretty busy, I guess. You with your brilliant Commonwealth Games (well done, btw - you did a bang-up job!) and me with those world leaders that came to visit. So I thought I'd write you a quick letter to say some of the things I want to.

I know you're thinking about leaving, and obviously, it's totally your choice. I do understand why. England sometimes acts as though, because its Mum owns the house, it's in charge. And whenever its annoyingly loud little brother London comes round, it acts like this is his home, and England just quietly mumbles behind its back. I think we all know that London is the favourite child, anyway. And I know there's that massive utilities bill that we're all having to pay now, which was without a doubt mostly London's fault that time it came to stay and got steamingly drunk every day, on both its own power and also, I suspect, a large amount of Carling Black Label, and just started pissing all over things and leaving the kettle on. That wasn't cool. Also, I know how frustrating it is when everyone else refers to the house as "England's" and totally forgets that it's the UK (Uber Koolz)'s.

But we've had some great times! Do you remember that cracking party we had in 2012, with all the sports? It was so much fun! And your mates, like Chris and Andy, they came and made it a party to remember. Yeah, it would've been a good party without you, but it was a life-changing party with you.

I know the idea of living on your own is mega-enticing, but what if you can't find a nice place? What if it's damp? What if the front door sticks? At least you know the problems you've got in this house. And who knows, maybe England might actually take our concerns a bit more seriously now it knows you're serious about getting out.

I know if you went I'd probably get a bigger room. But I think England would sulk a lot, and there'd be no gaining control of the remote. It'd be reality and faux-reality shows until I die of TOWIE overdose! And England will probably eat all my Caerphilly and only buy mild Cheddar :-/. Maybe Northern Ireland would come down from the attic room once in a while. Maybe the Isle of Man would actually come in from that weird shed it's been living in. But it just wouldn't be the same. You and I come from pretty similar backgrounds, and I really enjoy living with you.

But like I said, it's your choice. If you really want to leave, I'll totally respect that. You're great, and I hope you find somewhere that you deserve. Somewhere Enlightening (see what I did there?!). And if you go, can I please come round for a monthly telly-night? If it goes well for you, maybe I'll start looking as well.

I just wanted to write this to you so you know how I feel. Best of luck with your difficult decision, lovely.

Your loving housemate,

Wales

xoxoxoxo

Why I gave up my PhD after almost 4 years

Today, I had a meeting with my supervisor, for which I felt I had to write a letter, because I wouldn't be able to say the things I wanted to. In it, I told him that I didn't think it was feasible that I continue with my PhD, so I wanted to walk away. 

As many of my friends will know, I was diagnosed with depression in January. Depression, as I'm sure you all know, can be a difficult thing to get diagnosed, but suffice to say, I think I'd probably been suffering for a good while; at least a year but potentially longer. I have worked hard over the last few months to "heal" myself, and most of the time, I've been feeling better. But over the last couple of months, during which I've been trying to get back to work, I've felt like I've been on a downward slope. One of the things that made me realise how insurmountable an obstacle this was was the utter dread I felt in coming back from Scotland last week. For the first time I realistically considered the prospect of walking away, and it soon became obvious to me that this was the best option available. 

My PhD has been difficult from the start; my industrial sponsors pulled out, thus deriving me of any kind of external framework, and I could no longer expect the industrial experience that I had been happily anticipating. So a few months in I had to redefine what I was going to research, with my supervisor and I coming up with the plan to carry out the work on a specific type of furnace. We were very lucky, and managed to source one of these furnaces for free, but we had to deconstruct, transport, and reconstruct it. The time it took to get this furnace up and running was over a year, and it was longer than that before I started my own work on it. The capabilities of the furnace and associated equipment proved significantly less than I was hoping, and I was a matter of months away from my first (3 year) deadline. During this time was the first time I sought help for what I felt to be depression, but despite speaking to a counsellor I was not diagnosed. She gave me tips on time management. Steadily my motivation was draining away, and the constant small failures of not gathering results fast enough, not doing the tasks I'd set for myself, not advancing my work fast enough, led to a really quite toxic cycle of vitriolic self-criticism and inability to do anything about it. 

The actual issues I faced with my work would not have been insurmountable, were it not for the external issues I was facing in my private life, with the still-continuing fall-out of Kevin's death, his inquest and unwanted responsibilities in my grandpa's ill health and death, my aunt abusing her position of authority in my grandpa's affairs and effectively casting me out of "her" family because I wouldn't back down when she wanted to inherit more of my his money, one of my best friends becoming chronically ill, stressful home-ownership issues, and faulty brain chemistry; and then all the boring tribulations that any life well-lived brings. I went to speak to a woman in social sciences who has seen it all as regards PhD students, and we she said to me "I'm not surprised you've lost motivation; I'm surprised you manage to get out of bed every day!".

I had been feeling so much better, so I thought I would be able to make the PhD work, but as I began to assess how much work I would do, I would get a ringing noise in my ears and it felt like part of me would shut down in panic. I wasn't using my time constructively, outside of the time I'd allotted to working in the bakery I've become involved with. This had all been the case for a while, but the thing that made me make up my mind once and for all was the tragic death of Robin Williams. I tried not to read too much around it, because, to be frank, I'm miserable enough with the state of the world. But I did read a couple of articles about the reporting of depression-linked suicides in the media, and the statement "depression can be a fatal disease" made me feel a bit sick because to be brutally honest, and this is incredibly hard for me to admit, the horrible voice inside my head had questioned the point of continuing to struggle at all when the alternative would be so much easier for me. I'm given to understand that, contrary to what I've believed for years, vivid thoughts of harming oneself are not in fact normal when you're upset and stressed. So since I couldn't make myself feel better about my situation, I decided to change it. It was an incredibly difficult choice, and yes, I do feel like a quitter, and a failure, but I also feel that it takes a big person to admit they've made a mistake. I truly believe it is the right thing for me, and I look forward to having a fresh page on which to make my next decisions.

I want to thank all my wonderful friends to whom I've spoken in the last couple of days, for being so supportive, and not letting me feel like a failure! You're all my rock and I've so lucky to have you, especially Mum, Penny, Rhys, Sally, Sophie, Lizzy, Ceri and two Kates (D and K!).

The art of moving on

What a day. Within a month of the 5-year anniversary of Kevin's death, we finally had the inquest. Many of you will know the story, but for all those who don't know; my wonderful father died suddenly and tragically in a hot air balloon accident in Turkey, on the 29th of May, 2009. He largely brought me up, and we were incredibly close. Not only to me, but he also was a dad to both of my sisters, who have different fathers, he was my mother's best friend despite not having been a couple for 23 years, and his death left many of us terribly adrift. Quite simply, he was adored.

I was coming back from a night out in Brisbane, where I was living, and our very good friend John called me to tell me he'd been contacted by The Daily Mail to ask him for information about my dad after his death. After a few moments of complete disbelief, I felt like someone and hit some critical spot at the centre of my entire being, and I had exploded out into thousands of different pieces. It's five years later, and I still don't feel that all of those pieces have re-coalesced, and losing both Kevin's dad and uncle last year, along with finally having the inquest, have really brought many of those desperately sad and hopeless feelings I thought I'd got rid of to the fore again. So really, the last few months have been a case of really trying to solder myself back together and be the person I know he would want to have left in the world.

The inquest itself was, for the most part, boring and bureaucratic. Whilst I'm frustrated at how long it's taken, I can't fault Swansea Coroners' Court - they have been awaiting information from Turkish authorities, and response from the pilots involved, and details from their interviews with the police following the accident, none of which have been forthcoming. The finding of the inquest was basically thus: his death was accidental. The basket of the balloon above collided with the actual balloon ("envelope") of the one he was in, tearing it and resulting in it dropping like a stone about 150 metres to the rocky ground below. My father was killed, one person was permanently paralysed, and a number of people, included my dad's partner Juliet, were severely injured and still suffer almost constant pain and lifestyle-limiting injuries. The accident likely occurred as the result of two balloons being too close together, because they took off very close both in distance and in time. They couldn't say which balloon "went in" to the other, because both pilots declined to attend the inquest, which is fairly discouraging. There have been criminal proceedings in Turkey, but the conclusions of these were not made available to the coroner It was postulated that the balloons were so close together so as to allow the tourists in the different balloons to take pictures of one another when at altitude. So basically: my dad probably died for keepsake pictures.Sometimes, it's not easy not to be bitter.

But he was, in so many ways, the person I want to be, and he would do his best to eschew all bitterness. So that's what I strive for as well.

So this is a special day for his memory, and as part of that I'd like to include what I wrote as his eulogy and read at his funeral:

From the moment I came in to the world, Kevin was always there for me. I doubt if there was anyone more born to be a father. He listened when I read through “Little Red Riding Hood” for the first time, and he proof-read my essay postulating the existence of Dark Matter. From introducing me to the concept of angular velocity on a roundabout in Agnes Riley Gardens one summer’s afternoon after nursery, to watching me collect my physics degree 20 years later in Bath. From picking me up when I was too drunk to walk home, to being a spectator at my cricket match the following day. Watching continuous episodes of “Firefly” with me when I was dumped on Valentine’s day, supporting me when I couldn’t find work in Australia, through nightmares, bad exam results, good exam results, the bike-crashes, the burns, the illnesses, the screaming fits, the slammed doors, the ambition and the apathy, from the mountain tops to the bottom of the sea – and I mean that literally –he never underestimated me, whilst simultaneously he never failed in being there for me.

I always wanted to do the best by him simply because he always wanted to do the best by me.

More than anyone, he has influenced who I am, my values, my fears, my hopes, passions, bugbears, delights, slightly nerdy leanings, generosity, and empathy. We shared a sense of compassion, a sense of humour and a spirit of adventure, and ultimately a logical and relaxed outlook on life.

I have been prodigiously lucky in being taken on so many of his adventures, both large and small, diving, skiing, climbing, clay-pigeon shooting, windsurfing, sailing, kayaking, the Glastonbury festivals, visiting NASA, Las Vegas, The Grand Canyon, The Red Sea, The Rockies, and the Alps, right down to the gardening and the road trips, where we would sing the entire Rocky Horror Show album, from memory. 

Kevin was ever unfailing in his enthusiasm and pride in me and himself, with his almost constant smile which I have heard referred to so many times over the last 3 weeks. 

He had an indomitable sense of humour, which was at different times acerbic, witty, or downright slapstick – He was possibly the funniest person I’ve known, and I would like to relate possibly the funniest moment in my entire life; we were in Alpe d’Huez in the French Alps on one of our many skiing holidays. We were walking to dinner, him wearing his big bright blue skiing jacket, when for whatever reason, he decided suddenly to insert his entire head into a roadside snow drift. As I laughed hysterically, trying desperately to continue breathing, I asked “Did you really just do that?” to which he responded “What, this?” and promptly repeated the manoeuvre. As I fell onto the floor, completely incapacitated, he exclaimed “Well, it could be worse, I could have done THIS!”, and proceeded to run slap-bang into a person-height snow drift, leaving a cartoon-esque imprint in it. I can’t recall much after that, except that I had to be bodily lifted off the road because there was a car approaching….

I know that everyone will have their own memories of Kevin, and I would like to urge you, if you so wish, to share them with me, either in the book that we will have at the party this afternoon, or at any point in the future, in the days and years to come.

I would like to conclude by passing on a message to everyone, that I feel my dad would be proud to have as his epitaph, namely; do not, in the course of your lives, forget that you are never too old to learn something new, and you are never, NEVER too old to go on a new adventure.

I miss you so terribly much, Da.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Beurle
http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/news/people/obituaries/kevin-beurle-1956-2009/406899.article
http://www.planetary.org/blogs/guest-blogs/1978.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/8075154.stm
http://www.yourlocalguardian.co.uk/news/local/wandsworthnews/4415278.Exclusive__Daughter_of_Turkey_balloon_crash_victim_pays_tribute_to__unique__dad/

Taking Courage....

It's been a bit of a rollercoaster few weeks. About a fortnight ago the Sertraline began to kick in, and I had a brilliant week. I felt like I was waking up, and remembering what it was like being me. I still felt worried and fearful, but that was put on the backburner, and I actually began to feel like could carry on with my work, and salvage something from the wreckage I feel I've made of my PhD. Wonderful! And this coincided with a meeting with my supervisor, and an evening with some friends, and a wonderful weekend away... Things felt pretty marvellous, actually........ and then came the Monday, and a depressing chat with the joiner who's going to put in my windows about the complete hash job left by the previous builders. There's nothing like a man patronisingly repeating the same upsetting things over and over (I HEARD "dry rot" very clearly the FIRST time. The next 3 times were, at best, superfluous) to really kick the stuffing out of cautious optimism. That was all I needed to send me back to bed for the next 36 hours. Poor Penny - I'm pretty antisocial when I want to be, and therefore pretty crappy to live with at times. Luckily I had an allotment trip planned on the Tuesday afternoon, which forced me to get outside and be active, so happily I was back up to somewhat-reasonable friend on Wednesday. Dizzying heights indeed.

One of the most problematic and insidious things about my on-going struggle with depression is the vacuum where my motivation should be. There are so many things that I want to do, but actually getting started feels impossible. I keep trying, and feeling like I'm crashing up against an invisible wall. I basically find myself offering up distraction after distraction and ultimately whiling away all the available time for whatever task is at hand. This is worst when it comes to work, and ultimately I end up feeling useless, lazy and stupid, with a big handful of other negative impressions of myself thrown in to boot. I try to tell myself that is not who I am, I can point to a great number of examples to prove this, but ultimately that does not matter when standing at the cliff-face of my own certainty that I am, in fact, rubbish. I don't want to turn up to my next meeting and have to admit I haven't done any work, because I cannot adequately explain (to myself or anyone else) why not. How can you explain to someone expecting sound results from cutting edge, novel research that, on some days, just having got out of the house feels like a productive day?! This problem can only be solved by actually cracking on and doing the work I need to, and the only way I can do that is to keep trying, I guess.

I went back to the doctor's for a scheduled appointment  and she said that it's quite common to see an improvement followed by a dip or plateau, and that I was on quite a low dose, so she upped it to 100mg/day - I should see the benefits in another couple of weeks. Obviously I'm continuing with counselling, and this is going very well - It sounds stupid but I'm finally getting the hang of what she's trying to encourage me to do. Basically, letting myself have feelings about things and accepting them for what they are instead of trying to force them into a pragmatic and rational mould. And also letting myself listen to the positive things and not let them be drowned out by the negative. What can I say? It's a journey. I'm taking my lead from the card that my lovely friend Lieke sent me:

And the take-home message is....

I wish I could say that I've learnt some deeply profound lessons in the last month as the result of my Facebreak (tm)... but would be adopting the same simplistic view I had of the world when, in my early teens, I was convinced adulthood would be an endless adventure, thrilling, exciting and fulfilling at every turn, and not an endless barrage of should-dos, direct debits, difficult personal situations and truculent tradesmen. And I think I have a relatively fun life compared to a lot of people who work A LOT harder than me, either at their jobs or their families.

It has been a month of considerations though. I decided I would try a course of antidepressants so I'm now on 50mg/day of Sertraline, which is an SSRI - which basically means that your brain doesn't absorb seratonin quite as quickly, meaning there's more of that "happy hormone" kicking about. I had a long think about this step, and spoke to people trained in mental health, people who'd had good and not-so-good experiences, I read through my GP's British National Formulary which goes into medical-level detail about treatments for various illnesses, and obviously did my own research. I considered that I have a difficult 6 months ahead, and that I'm having weekly counselling to deal with some of the reasons I ended up where I am, and that I'm taking positive action in other ways to get better, and thought that everything that could help should probably be tried. I started about 10 days ago, and apparently they take 2-3 weeks to kick in, so, besides a pretty persistent low-level nausea which happily has gone now, I haven't noticed any changes as yet.

So the other steps I'm taking are many -

• I bought a lovely notebook in Edinburgh which I'm using as a journal/notebook of my journey back to the top.
• Working on my allotment which I now share with the lovely Kate & Vaida - I'm really excited about this as, like I've said previously, I've always wanted an allotment, and OH MY GOSH I MIGHT FINALLY BE SUCCESSFUL WITH PUMPKINS!
• I'm trying to get out for a reasonable walk (at least 30 mins) with Alfie every day, although he was being very unhelpful in this last week when he very uncharacteristically didn't want to go to the park for 3 days straight last week. He actually behaved on the lead! Very worrying, but luckily he seems to be back to his normal, straining-at-the-lead self. Whew!
• I'm trying to be more open with people, even if I think there might be some negative effects - I asked someone out a couple of weeks ago! They said no.... you would think that would be pretty rubbish but actually, after a day of feeling a bit glum, it was nice to reflect that, actually, it doesn't really make any difference to me at all - which is satisfying to remember.
• I'm reading up about mindfulness, which, so far as I've read, is a philosophy of being more present in your everyday life, and not spending quite so much time on autopilot, effectively sleepwalking through your life. One of the core tenets is taking periods of time (They want you to start off with 45 minutes a day, 6 days a week, for 8 weeks.... I have not put aside this much time yet) and simply witting quietly, listening to your breathing and simply being present, instead of thinking about things that have happened, will happen, won't happen, might happen, are happening elsewhere, and letting ones mind relax and take time off the hectic pace which we pretty much all subject ourselves to.
• I'm trying to stop telling myself what I should be doing, and instead ask: a) what I would like to do and b) what I would like to have done, because I feel like I'm constantly telling myself off for not having done things I think I should have done as a responsible adult. If anyone else did that to me, I would get the <expletive deleted> out of my life.
• Just saying "yes!" more - I've definitely spent more time with friends in real life during February, more time out, more time talking (actual talking!).... long may it continue!

I guess the biggest thing I've learnt was: I didn't miss Facebook. I never once regretted not being able to go on it, and I considered not logging in again. If I found a reasonable FB-messaging app for my phone (the curse of the Windows phone user....) I might have chosen not to go back. I have spotted myself going to check FB to see who's responded to any posts I've put up - but I find I can just ask myself: "Why, though?" and the answer is normally "dunno...".

I did miss the people, though. I value the relationships I've forged with people very very strongly. But, on that note.... I've also decided to make conscious decisions about who I want in my life, and consider the net effect of individual relationships, and those that come out in the red - considering why I think I need those people. Happily, the vast majority of people I know are heavily in the black - which is just one of the many ways in which I'm actually a <expletive deleted> lucky sod. So to every single person who's messaged me, hugged me, called me, texted me, sent me handmade monkeys (Thanks Sarah :-D), or just let me know that they are there if I need them: thank you so much from the very bottom of my heart. You have buoyed me up when I really needed it, and you really do make life worth living. Go and tell yourselves that you are wonderful!!

Into double figures and the cold sweats have ceased......

It's been a week and a half and not checking Facebook is actually feeling normal by now. I did, on autopilot, open a tab for BBC News, and type "f", hit the down arrow and smashed that Enter key before I knew what I was doing - happily I obviously logged out so I just got the Log In page - but I found it funny that I'm so conditioned I can end up on the page without actually making a conscious decision to do so. See what I mean? Compulsive! But I have to say, FB is trying to convince me it's not just one-sided:

Hurting poor FB's feelings aside, there are a couple of things I feel have changed a little...

Stupid as it may sound, it's quite nice to be reminded that things I do are no less enjoyable because I don't post them on FB for everyone to see. I don't know if anyone else does this but I suspect some people do, but I've been struck by the amount of times I've thought about the best way I could phrase a status to sum up the utter fun-ness of something I am in the process of doing - thus most likely detracting from the actual fun-ness I want to share (boast) about experiencing... I have eye-rolled at myself a good number of times over the last eleven days.

Of all the things I might have posted about, here are the ones I actually remember (and hence maybe the best ones?!):

Jenny Jones did amazingly well, but I can't stop thinking about poor Alain Baxter who got our ACTUAL first medal on snow in 2002, but got it taken away because he used a Vick's Inhaler he bought in the US.

I didn't think I would like anyone less than Owen Patterson but Eric Pickles is making a damned fine run for it!

I'm re-watching Firefly and would like to state the point that it was probably the best series ever cancelled.

I got home from a night out at 9 am and consequently, happily, was NOT up for the Ireland-Wales game... I guess what had happened when I got a text from my mum saying, simply; "Oops!"

My GP was well impressed at my Vitamin D levels - and I'm not anaemic! WOOOP!

I hate builders so so so much - This one I'm actually going to go one better on and post a full account tomorrow about Prescient Builders who've possibly messed up so bad that they may have compromised the structural integrity of my house.

I also have definitely been less likely to distract myself before getting out and doing something, but this effect has been somewhat reduced by the fact that I've become a bit addicted to a bloody game on my Lumia called "Kingdoms and Lords" which is basically a bit like what I assume Farmville and all those other irritating, FB-notification-spawning games to be like. It is fiendishly addictive but tremendously irritating as it's obsessively trying to make me recruit my friends to it (pyramid selling, anyone?) and also, gameplay is severely limited if you're not willing to pony up actual cash for diamonds, You can get them without paying for them, but at such a ridiculously slow rate that they're almost pointless. Yet I am still addicted. Touché, Gameloft.

Right-o. The sun is shining - I'm taking the hound out for a wander, after I've supplemented the banana which is all I've eaten so far. And to the cinema later, which is something I've not done in ages - hooray for real-life socialising!

Until  tomorrow - and a post which will consist of irate ranting. Can. Not. Wait.

Day Three of the Great oh-Fourteen February Facebook Freeze

So - how is it going?

Well. Day one was rubbish. I had a very difficult day in which I was told I had done things that I have not and would never and spent the day feeling frustrated and under attack. I kept thinking in FB status updates - some pretty passive-aggressive ones that I would never actually post. But also, I found I really wanted to log on just to see notifications and be reassured that there are all you hundreds of people out there that know me and wouldn't level ridiculous accusations at me. I was really interested that already I can start to see the more profound role that FB has taken in my life - it genuinely did feel like craving. It didn't help that I just didn't get out, although that was partly that the rugby was on and it was raining - a totally legitimate excuse for a sofa day! Although I briefly considered writing my thoughts on post-its and sticking them up on an actual wall. My immediate reaction to this was "you bloody idiot!". My secondary was "couldn't that be considered an art project?!"

Ultimately, I took the much more constructive step and spoke to one of my besties, Andrew, for about an hour and a half, in which he happily ranted, but rationally, on my behalf which was about the best balm I could have had. He also told me that I need to stop thinking that I can make anyone understand anything by explaining things logically. I think of all of my fundamental beliefs this might be the hardest to rid myself of.

Sunday I pre-empted any navel-gazing by packing my day as full as I possibly could - starting with a "Bokwa" class at 10.45 (this is basically a dance class in which you get taught moves that apparently equate to tracing letters out on the floor, but in a way devised by an incurably energetic spacehopper who has probably never seen actual letters and numbers, and whose knowledge is largely description-based, developed after consumption of one of those huge cafetieres of full-strength coffee. Also, the instructor knew less moves than most participants in the class, and hence her hour got hijacked for a considerable period. There were 3 of us who were actually learners so I wasn't the only Year 7 kid watching the cool sixth-formers practise their totally rad dance moves, running a dangerously high rick of accidentally smashing into a wall whilst trying to do a "four"....). This was followed to a visit to the lovely allotment which I have been lucky enough to get in on, and the community garden, from which I made off with a bunch of lovely kale (it was going to waste!!). Haven't even done any work and the plot's already yielding bounty! Then a couple of hours down the beach with Aimee & Rico and, of course, Alfie. Rico is so lovely and he makes me feel so happy when he's so full up of excitement that some of it has to come out as barks. Warms the very cockles of my heart!! N.b.: Aims is not so keen on this behaviour because she is a responsible dog owner, and so very sensibly discourages it.

Then came my first counselling session which was interesting. I hate explaining negative things to people. I feel like I'm giving them a ridiculous litany of woe. I keep trying to crowbar in positive things or saying "it's not so bad as I'm making out!" which is a bit ridiculous, if I think about it. I guess that means I've already got something to work on....

Anyway, I felt pretty wrecked afterwards but luckily for me I have this malleable tangled ball of fur and sand to cuddle:

One step beyond....

I knew I'd get some response but I didn't expect quite so many - on top of comments I have had almost 40 people contact my through email/text/messages/whatsapp, all overwhelmingly positive and supportive so thank you SO MUCH! Lots of really good suggestions but mostly, people telling me that they share a lot my experiences. I knew that depression was quite widespread but there's a difference between knowing it and so many, very different, people telling me: "I know where you are and it gets better". Of the personal recommendations of things that worked for people, counselling was definitely up there, but then other things like CBT, mindfulness, taking up an activity to occupy your hands, like knitting or origami, painting rooms, getting outside, screaming if you need to, amusing animal videos....

Also this interesting piece about the why constant access to the internet can ultimately end up making things more difficult.

I have already actively made some choices: I'm attending my first counselling session on Sunday evening, and I've found myself a friend in search of an allotment buddy! I've been thinking about allotments for a while but I know I would find it too hard to run a whole one on my own - but this is a marvellous opportunity and I'm so excited about it! Even just the act of writing my last post means that it makes it infinitely easier to ask for help when I feel I need it, because I don't need to bring up & explain the awkward subject of why I need help in the first place.

Thank you so much in proving to me once again the amazing friends I have and the wonderful people I've been fortunate enough to surround myself with over the years. I'm going to print out all your messages and emails and read through them when I need to. And I might.... I think I joined FB in 2005, so this will be my longest time without it in over 8 years, which is a pretty terrifying fact in itself!

Don't do anything too fun while I'm away, will you.....?

Facebook Free February

Right.

(Deep breath).

I am depressed.

I don't mean; "I'm very sad" or "Sherlock has ended" or "Tesco were out of Sauvignon Blanc". I mean, I'm currently in a place where I stare at the world and all I see is things I cannot do. Most of these things are things that, logically speaking, I can do. Like working a 9-5 day, or cleaning my house, or sorting out wayward builders, or walking Alfie, or deciding on the direction of my research, formulating a plan, and following that plan, or going out with my friends. Or getting rid of the piles of stuff in my house which were my dad's that I've been carting around for almost 5 years with no idea what to do with (this last point my mum has very kindly helped me out with by attacking it with an undaunted vigour, and just left me the simple stuff, like Freecycling the Freecycle stuff, eBaying the eBay stuff, and dumping the rubbish - I still have not been able to finish this). Every now and then when I think of all these things, I start to feel tight-chested and sick and there is a roaring in my ears. Sometimes when I'm walking down the road, I feel like something dreadful is about to happen to me, and I will not have the energy to fight. For a fortnight I couldn't sleep until the early hours, and even after ten hours sleep, sometimes I would wake up and be too exhausted to make myself some breakfast. I feel stupid and like I have no concentration span - that might be a surprise to a lot of people, but I spend most of my time feeling like a thick idiot and I just don't feel that I can retain the useful information that I need. I have to go through my friends person by person and prove to myself that they actually like me and aren't just putting up with me. Also; I have a note from the doctor.

Yes; I do know how lucky I am. I don't think I deserve better - in fact, I often think my family deserves a better person than me. I have so much to look forward to and so much to be grateful for, and dramatic as it might sound; those fact have saved my life. And I feel ashamed for not being able to buck up my ideas and get on with the business of life, as everyone else seems to be able to do. Up until the point my GP responded to my first sentence, I was sure she was going to tell me to get out and stop wasting her time. But I am here and I have tried and it has not worked; so I need to do something different.

Inasmuch as it can be broken down: obviously the main reason is that I still miss my dad terribly. Every single day I want to speak to him. In 2013, both my dad's father and uncle died, leaving so little of my family left. Kevin died five years ago in May, and only now is his inquest going to be held - but I still don't know when. For the last 3 months it's been "within the next few weeks". I thought it was going to be fine but as we edge closer but still haven't had it, I think about it all the time. There is just the basic reason that I have a family history of depression. The stress of owning a house by myself and having lots of decisions that are ultimately my own has not helped. I can't even make simple decisions without mulling them over and weighing up the pros and cons. There are lots of other things that I won't go into here. I imagine not doing enough exercise is playing a big role; but I've learnt that there's a big difference between knowing why something is happening and being able to stop it from happening.

Everything came to a head last week when I had breakfast with a friend of my mum's and listed all the things that I was stressed about in my normal pragmatic way. Then I spoke to my colleague whose father died suddenly recently, and all the horror and gaping chasm of reality I felt when Kevin died came looming up in front of me again. It's not the first time I've cried in the Combustion Lab but it is the first time I've had a witness. Then I spoke to my secondary supervisor and was barely in my seat before he was hurriedly getting me a box of tissues. We both came the the conclusion that I am not actually able to handle this myself, and need medical help. This sounds horrific, but actually, after at least a year of struggling this feels like a blessed relief.

There are a lot of things I'm going to do; predominantly organising some counselling, stop telling the people that care that things are "fine", shoehorn exercise back into my routine, prove to myself that I'm not totally inept, eating better, do things that make me happy.

Another thing I'm doing is; I'm giving up Facebook for a month. The shortest month of the year, but still. There are two big reasons for this: Time, and "brainspace".

1. Time: Even if I was able to measure it, I would be ashamed to admit the amount of time I waste on Facebook. Not just when I'm sitting in front of the TV, or on a train, or otherwise occupied, but times when I should be working, or when I could go out, or have house tasks to get on with. It's not just on FB, it's all the flipping links I click on whilst on there, which leads to the issue of attention; or as I'm just brashly going to call it, with no courtesy to neurology, brainspace...

2. Brainspace: I'm genuinely interested on how people's lives are going, and read tonnes of blogs etc. that people post, get involved in discussions that I know something about - but I never stop to ask myself how all the things I read are useful to me. Sure, they are interesting, but reading a blog about why Macklemore & Ryan Lewis didn't deserve the Grammy but Kendrick Lamar did, or why Miley Cyrus twerking is so bad, or so good, and what Sinead O'Connor thinks about the matter, or the various sides of the 20-year-old allegations of abuse against Woody Allen or BLOODY CLIMATE CHANGE DENIERS USING THE SAME DISPROVED ARGUMENTS OVER AND OVER... ahem. But........ how does that improve my life?! It just gives me more bloody decisions to make! It's just too much information and that stresses me out. I feel like I want to know everything (except maybe anything about Hollyoaks/TOWIE/Posh version of TOWIE/Welsh version of TOWIE/Geordie version of TOWIE/American versions of TOWIE and Embarrassing Bodies....), and it's hard to accept that I can't. My mum made a very interesting point earlier: that taking on more information is a very effective way of ignoring the things you need to work on if you're depressed.

Also, counter-intuitively, I think FB has made me feel more lonely, as is very well described in this video by Shimi Cohen.

So that's it. For February. We'll see how it goes, but I have to be honest, I'm pretty scared. I think I'm going to miss out on tonnes of information, at least some of which will be valuable to me. Most of my social life is organised through FB so it'll be interesting trying to make sure I actually know what's going on. And all those cute pictures of animals, goddamnit!

Gulp.

InEqual Rites

I haven't posted in ages, partly because I've been pretty busy with work & life, and partly because I just haven't been running as much recently. But I recently was sent a link to the new cover for a book that is really precious to me - Terry Pratchett's third book in the Discworld series - Equal Rites. There are a number of reasons I feel strongly about this book; firstly, my Dad gave it to me when I was around 7 or so. As those who know me personally will know, I was tremendously close to my dad before he died in 2009. He was an amazing feminist and believed that girls should not be limited in what they do, so it was with great excitement that he gave me this book, about a small girl - Esk - accidentally becoming a sourcerer, in a world of magic populated almost exclusively by men. She is ostracised by this world, and brought up by a witch: Granny Weatherwax, in possibly (?) the first appearance by this most enduring of Discworld characters. Secondly, my copy is signed by Pratchett himself, and in it his has inscribed "To Angharad, Rite On!". I cannot overstate what a massive Pratchett fan I was and always will be, and so you can imagine the positive effect that this had on me. I have tried, quietly and stubbornly, throughout my life, not to get sucked in to the idea that as a girl and them woman, I must do this, look like this, talk about that, react in such-and-such a way. I have a physics degree, and I'm doing an engineering PhD. I don't believe I should have to wear a full face of make-up every time I leave the house. I am rarely intimidated by men just because they are men. I don't buy into the lessons sold us by society that women should be seen and not heard, that they are the ones who take care of the children and do the cooking. To be frank, most of it is utter bullcr*p, and not conducive to equality.

I hold these views, and so strongly, because my parents brought me up this way, and gave me strong female role models to live up to. Esk is one of these. So you can imagine my dismay at seeing the new artwork for the book, and discovering that Esk and Granny W - the two female main characters in a book called Equal Rites - have been removed from the cover. I tweeted the publishers, Transworld Books (@TransworldBooks), and their parent company Random House (@RandomHouseUK) to ask for clarification, but got no response. So today I emailed Transworld with the email below. If you feel anything about this at all, even if you are not a Discworld fan, or a massive Discworld fan who doesn't consider themselves a feminist, I would love it if you could get in contact with them as well, at least to let them know that such a cynical step has not gone unnoticed. Thanks for reading - and if you have never read this book, I highly recommend it!

**UPDATE!**
Following discussions on Facebook, it has been pointed out to me that they are still there, just on the back cover, underneath the blurb. Picture kindly put together here. My feeling is similar, but slightly less gall-inducingly stunned. I'd be interested to hear of other books where the two characters that are the main focus of the book appear on the back cover, rather than the front, whilst secondary characters take up the front cover. I can't even remember their names! I shall reread my much-loved copy asap.

"Dear Sir/Madam, 

I am contacting your about the new artwork for the third book in Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. As you may know, this book is about a small girl (Esk) who unwittingly becomes a sourcerer, is ostracised from the magic community on account of her sex, and is brought up and trained by a witch (Granny Weatherwax - one of Discworld's most enduring characters). This was the first Discworld novel I ever read, when my father gave it to me when I was aged around 7, and is still my absolute favourite. My copy is, in fact, signed by Sir Pratchett himself, with the inscription "Rite On!". This book is so special to me, as it was inspirational in my path in life. I have pursued goals which are not traditional for women, including a physics degree and an engineering PhD. This was made partly possible by the strong female roles I've been exposed to throughout my life, including Esk. 

So it is with concern that I note that both Esk and Granny Weatherwax - the two main characters - have apparently been removed from the new cover of Equal Rites. There is a ridiculous disparity in the visible presence of men & women in much of the media that we are exposed to; news panels, comedy shows, newspaper photography, movies, TV shows, and, as I can see no other reason for the removal of these characters than to appeal to your intended (if not actual) male demographic to the exclusion of potential female readers, this seems like a terribly cynical step further down the slope of representing women in a narrow range of roles - mostly limited to; wife, mother or partially clothed.

I would be interested to hear your motivations for this removal, if they are different than the above. I have asked for clarification on Twitter, which has thusfar been ignored, so I eagerly await your response by email.

Sincerely,

Angharad Beurle-Williams"

Edinburgh

So no talk of running this post, but just a relating of my (second) yearly Edinburgh Fringe trip. I had good intentions and took along my running gear - however I found that I'd neglected to pack my trainers, probably one of the more vital parts of kit, and I wasn't running anywhere dap-less. So I came to the necessary conclusion that lots of walking was good enough to suffice. Snort.

Just over 3 days of heady Edinburgh glory - starting each day with a spring in my step, optimism in my heart and skipping down to Grassmarket.... ending each day trudging up the hill towards Haymarket, weighed down by flyers and trying to figure out how I felt about serious things like suicide and lyrical poets.

The thing that I (along with almost everyone else) love about the Fringe is the complete departure from the normal things I would choose to go and see. Sure, the comedy brings me in, but it's all the theatre and dancing and that that I stay for. Along with the good company. And the comedy.

The only downside of the trip was the travel through Cardiff "International" Airport, which was yet again another exercise in frustration and misery. More about that in the next post, no doubt!

This year I saw a broader and more numerous selection of shows than last year, but I can definitely do better with more advance planning. Edinburgh 2013 will be EVEN MORE jam-packed and emotionally confused than 2012. The selection of shows I saw this year were:

The Booking Dance Festival Split Bill - consisting of the Hammerstep Dance Company performing some pretty impressive tap/Irish dancing/street dance fusion complete with beatboxing, and The Dallas Black Dance Theatre, with a piece inspired by a poem about painting black angels (as opposed to white ones), and a really beautiful ballet portraying some important moments of the wonderful Nina Simone's life, set to her music, and brilliantly narrated (I assume from her autobiography). This was just stupendous and gave me a glimpse of what an amazing life she led - I walked away thinking that I'd better that autobiography to my to-read pile before I forget about it.

I then when to meet my lovely host Sally to go to Caesarean Section - Essays on Suicide which was very absorbing - some amazing singing - I call it singing but it was more like emoting through vocalisation - quite primaeval at some points. It was really amazing, but I have to say, I wasn't really sure what was going on a lot of the time. There were three cast members actually moving around (as opposed to singing, playing instruments and percussing the whole affair) and I was constantly confused as to which one was trying to commit suicide and in which context the other two related to them. I think this is largely due to the I'm basically used to a very straightforward narrative, like in films, and am not particularly adept at following stories when there isn't that same kind of linear progression. I did massively enjoy it, however!

Following that, after a watching a triptych of ultra-slow-motion film clips of (mostly naked) people doing various things, which was really hypnotising, we gatecrashed a lovely wine reception where most of the people were really friendly, the wine was deeeeeeeeeeelicious and the view if Edinburgh was spectacular. Then we walked home and got proper chips on the way. Nom.

Sunday morning and my first port of call was Tony Law's Maximum Nonsense. As per, @mrtonylaw didn't fail to impress. The show culminated in a lovely song sung by various elephants, as we, the adoring, flag-waving crowd, were surrounded by spinning elephants fashioned out of neon-coloured plasticine. I can't say too much about Mr Tony Law. I envy his "twin 3-yr-old obnoxious troll" children that they get to grow up with a dad that probably, probably, might be as good as mine. If he tours, I might just go and see this show again. Brilliant.

Sunday evening, after a lovely Japanese meal at Bonsai I went to see Jayde Adams is Master of None which was a delightfully bonkers show which deserved a much bigger audience than it got on that night. Jayde used to manage my local quirky cocktail bar before heading off to London to make her name as a comedian. She was always really funny when I spoke to her so I thought I'd check out what she was like on stage. I was a little trepidatious but she was brilliant. The show was a discombobulated train ride through balloon modelling, malicious childhood nativity re-enactment, and videos - I think my favourite bit may have been the manically-fast interpretation of a massive bunch of music videos. She runs a comedy night in Shoreditch called The Painted Grin - should be pretty hila-ma-larious if her show is anything to go by.

Monday morning (ish) saw me head to a hip-hop hip-hop imagining of Shakespeare's Othello which was wonderfully interpreted through the use of lyrical poetry (I am using this as a fancy way to say: rap). All the highs and emotional bits and the miserable inevitability of a Shakespeare play, but pretty different than the last time I went through it (a bunch of bored/embarrassed 15 year olds reading it out in a South London comprehensive).

I tried to see the Oxford Imps improvisation show but unfortunately I didn't realise that Othello was 75 minutes long and they wouldn't let me in because I was late. I was a bit miffed - I could understand if it was a big intense play, but - improvisation? Hmmm.

After than was Nick Helm's This Means War, to which I went with a hastily arranged date (with the lovely Lloyd) since apparently this is a show you cannot go to alone. It was bloody hilarious, especially considering I was there are a 5 minute clip from Russell Howard's TV show. Which I have re-watched too many times to admit to here. My favourite bit of THIS show was when he had a break down in the middle of the floor and started crying to the audience member that he had pulled up and made to peel potatoes. AAAahahahahaha crying! It's funny!

Also that evening I spent a bit of time watching "graduates" from a comedy school - they had about 10 minutes each and there were some very funny people in there, so eyes out for them in the future, so I can yell obnoxiously "I SAW THEM WHEN THEY WERE REALLY NEW AND YOUNG AND TERRIBLY NERVOUS!". I had to leave halfway through, sadly, as I had to get over to The Caves on Grassmarket to watch the brilliantly dry Henning Wehn - in his own words, the most successful comedian, because either he makes people laugh, or he confirms a national stereotype. I like him because he asked my which Olympic events I went to and then blamed me for the ticket shortage, then everyone laughed at me which totes makes me populair.

The next morning was my last day, so I headed to the box office and picked up a bit of a lucky dip of tickets - I went to see Ride of the Bluebottles which was a really enjoyable and mostly funny play about a terrible band, Peter Panic which was a mildly dystopian and warped imagining of what would happen if Peter Pan came back and Wendy was an adult and married to the Prime Minister in a version of the UK that was being ripped apart by rioting. I can say that this was the weirdest thing I went along to watch, and I think most of the audience felt the same. There was a lot of confusion to be heard walking out of that theatre. But my favourite show of the last day was Sad Faces Remember It Differently, which was possibly my favourite show of the lot. Effing brilliant - a great premise, four very gifted comic actors, brilliant scripting wit the cracked like the lovechild of brittle toffee and lightning. Fantastic, and hopefully they will be back on Radio 4 Extra sometime soon - I CAN'T WAIT!

Garmin Forerunner 410

As I have mentioned in a previous post, I decided to get myself a lovely GPS running watch in order to make recording my running easier (My love of spreadsheets knows no bounds), and hopefully be an important motivator in getting me out and running when I really didn't feel like it.

I managed to find a really good deal on the Garmin Forerunner 410, which had some great reviews, the majority of which seemed to be most excited about the fact that the bezel on the 410 was much better than that on the 405CX. Since this is my first running watch, I really don't have anything to compare it to, but sure enough, the bezel works very well. No complaints about the bezel here!

Displays:
The main display is easily customisable - I like to have the basic three: distance, time and heart rate. There are apparently 30 different metrics you can choose to display, but I really only rely on these 3. They can be jigged around too - at the moment I have the time as the largest in the main display, but I may change this as I find it pretty distracting. I keep trying to work out my pace whilst running. This is all the more pointless, as this is a built-in function -Virtual Partner - that allows you to check your run against an imaginary friend running at a pre-set pace, who smugly informs you of how far in distance and time you are behind them. This is a great motivator for putting in that little bit extra at the end of the run to improve your overall run pace.

GPS Accuracy
The product description revels in how quickly it finds GPS signals, but actually I've had some problems with this. I have to stand outside my door for a minute or so before my position is pinpointed to within 10 or 15 metres. For a few runs, I didn't bother waiting - unfortunately this resulted in fairly considerable inaccuracies in run distance. Before I got the watch, I was running the same routes over and and over, and I had mapped them out of the brilliant Map My Run, using satellite imagery - when uploading,the route onto a map, parts sometimes bears little relation to what I think I've run, and the start point is a fair distance from my house. This resulted in the same runs coming out at 100+metres shorter - maybe not a considerable difference, but the marginal gains in my pace are easily wiped out by such errors, and I rely on marginal gains to keep me motivated!

Another possible reason for errors is the auto-pause function. This is really useful when you stop at roads (or to clean up after your dog), but there is a short interlude between you starting up again and the timer starting up - I'm not sure how the software deals with these gaps in the route, so this might be where some errors creep in.

Waterproofing
The watch isn't waterproof, but it is shower-proof. It proved its mettle in this regard a few weeks ago, when, having no other option, I headed out in the pouring rain (on the morning of my birthday barbecue, after being assured that Paula Radcliffe doesn't say "Oh, it's raining. Sod that!"). I was soaked to the skin before I ever started running, and the watch was absolutely fine - so I can definitely vouch for this claim!

Calorie Calcualtion
Also included is calorie calculation - this is done one of three ways: the most basic is a simple weight/distance/elevation/speed calculation. The second one - the option that I use - utilises the heart rate monitor, using your heart-rate for a slightly more complicated (and presumably more accurate) calculation. If you're really keen, you can go to one of a specific few centres where they calculate your VOx and metabolism, according to whichever set of criteria they deem the best, and your watch then uses this information along with your heart rate to give you an ostensibly more accurate again figure. I'm not really interested in calories (once I start running regularly, I tend to find I don't eat much more & over compensate) so I use the middle option, since I'm interested in my heart rate anyway.

Wireless Data Transfer & Software
Data transfer is the easiest thing in the world - after going through the fuss of finding the necessary driver and linking them up the first time, all subsequent watch-computer-internet communication happens without any intervention on behalf of the user. Users need to sign up to Garmin's online service, which allows each route to be uploaded to an online database which will give you all the information you require. So far, I have not been able to find any way to store the results except online, which is a bit annoying. I did download the recommended software for Garmin, but it quickly became apparent that to get anything useful from it, I'd actually have to buy a copy. I may do this if, at some point in the future I feel I need analysis more extensive that that offered by Garmin & MMR.

Effect on my running
I'd definitely say that having the watch has improved my running - perhaps not quite as much as I had expected, but there have been times when I may not have run 40 minutes required by my schedule, as my apathy would not have overcome figuring out a route on MMR, and making sure to run it - with the watch, I just slap it on and head out. Yesterday was the first time this didn't work to plan, as I'd neglected to charge it, and so just had to follow a pre-determined route and roughly keep track of my time.

Conclusions
All in all, I'm pretty pleased with the Forerunner 410 - slightly lacking in accuracy, perhaps, but it looks lovely, works well most of the time, and is small enough that it's easy to forget it's there once it's on. It makes keeping track of progress really easy, and offers tonnes of added extras if you're really into your data analysis. I'm looking forward to using the navigation function and possibly starting to use other metrics, as well as trialling use on my bike as well. Excellent!

Motivation

So; my first milestone is less than a week away. On Saturday morning, I will run the Cardiff Race for Life 10 km. It's not my main goal, but it is an important stepping-stone objective towards completing the half-marathon for which all this training is aimed, in October.

My training was going very well - I started running 4 times a week, including a longer run at weekends, and still managing to do other exertion-related activities, such as a 25 mile bike ride to the beach, and (almost) weekly circuits classes. However, I have found the strength of my motivation to be fairly undulating. I want to say; "like a rollercoaster"; but that implies sudden changes, speed, and much more fun..!

Early on, as I was began to pay attention to my training plan, it was very difficult to persuade myself that I a) could and b) wanted to run four times a week. After a couple weeks of persuasion from both me, and those around me, I managed to do a couple of weeks of the full amount of training that I had set myself. I thought I'd cracked it, and I was very pleased with myself.

Sadly, it was not to continue.

A number of factors have concerted to create obstacles (both actual and perceived) - some family issues, busy weekends, muscle fatigue, rubbish weather, slight illness and a less-than-ideally regimented diet (this is an ongoing concern and one that I will blog about in the future - once I figure it out!) have left me feeling a little washed out and, critically, not motivated enough to get out there and hit the road as much as I need to. I am telling myself right now that I can make all the excuses that I want: the fact is that I won't be able to do this run in the time that I wanted to. That's a bit disappointing - but failure can be more important than success in many situations, and I need to take that annoyance at myself and channel it into positive internal motivation, as I begin training for the biggie.

The positive summation of the last few weeks is: I've consistently been running longer distances at regular intervals (I've only missed one weekend run so far), my average speed is going up slightly, and coupled with the previous fact, this is even better than it seems. I have managed to overcome the internal naysayer on many runs (that niggling voice that says "you'd better just turn back now, otherwise you're going to be CRAWLING home!") . I'm already noticing the weight loss, and how the first couple of km at least feel much easier than they used to. I've really enjoyed being outside on a few of the runs, despite one run in a massive downpour, for which I was soaked to the skin for the entire 11km, and another where I inadvertently ended up splashing through very muddy puddles. So far I have managed to avoid any kind of injury - whilst parts of me niggle during runs, they are never the same parts on consecutive runs. And I've got the hang of my running watch, pretty much - which will be another post that hopefully writes itself!

A tale of good intentions

Good intentions were so nearly borne out last week! Runs timetabled looked like this:

Mon: 4.8km easy
Tues: 30 min pace
Thurs: 30 min easy
Sat: 8km

Actual runs looked like: Monday, TICK! Tuesday, TICK! Thursday, uuuurgh, TICK! Saturday, WOOPWOOP, mah sister is in TOWN and we are going to celebrate the jubilee by drinking and eating patriotically-coloured M&Ms!! So the good intentions struggled, and compromised on Sunday. However, the persistent summer rain on Sunday put paid to all that nonsense, and the 8km was bumped to Monday (actually was 7.5) & followed up with a 5km run Weds. This was a bit disappointing - whilst I kept to a reasonable steady pace for both runs, and manage to prolong the time I ran before walking to about 23 minutes, I did this at the expense of average speed. It seems counter-intuitive that I would end up going slower if I keep running, but I suppose this is just a fluctuation that should be sorted out as my training continues and I manage increase both pace and my jog-to-walk ratio.

The main issue yesterday seemed to be the outside sides of my thighs, which hopefully is just overuse and not Iliotibial band syndrome (It's hard not to be a hypochondriac when looking at medical information online). The thing which caught my attention is the propensity of flat-footed runners to experience this - I am very flat-footed and over-pronate (my foot rolls inwards). When it's muddy, I somehow always end up with a great splash of mud on my ankles or trousers from kicking it up with my wonky feet. I did buy nice fancy trainers from Run & Become which seem to have helped a bit, but I was a little worried at this new pain - however, whilst I could feel a concentrated ache running up both thighs for most of the day afterwards, it seems to have faded almost entirely now.

Happily, today is a rest day (and my birthday :-D) so I will take a walk and do a little yoga, eat plenty of cake and have a little cava and I reckon that should sort things out. I'm off to London for the weekend, and my training plan demands a 9.5 km run and a 30 minute "pace" run - no idea when I'm going to fit them in with the rain and the travelling. I've a few 5-ish km runs recorded with MapMyRun around where my sister lives, but what would REALLY help me out would be a GPS running watch - for which I am planning to pony up the money. I am undecided so far but Garmin seem to get consistently good reviews. I've been looking at either the 305 and the 405CX, but that'll quite possibly change before I manage to click that "Buy" button.... will report on developments as they arise....

Tend your own gardens

I like to refer to myself as a pragmatic Green. The reason that I use the modifier is because I like to base my world view on reliable sources, and do not feel the need to exhibit the hysterical and knee-jerk behaviour recently exhibited by "activists" who took part in Take the Flour Back’s recent "decontamination picnic" demonstration against Rothamsted Research - the oldest agricultural research facility in the world. The anger and frustration that I feel when reading their justification of intended vandalism is made all the more bitter by being mixed with sadness from the dawning realisation that potentially, with allies like these, the struggle to reduce the magnitude of anthropogenic climate change is an even more insurmountable task than I had previously realised – which is saying something.

How, I ask, in all earnestness, can you cite the (crushingly overwhelming weight) of scientific support for the biggest problem ever to confront the human race, whilst simultaneously denying the weight of research in other areas, such as nuclear fission and GM crops? Personally, I didn't have much of an opinion one way or the other about GM crops - there are many questions which are as yet unanswered, which is the strongest argument for ENCOURAGING research rather than destroying it. However, in my frustration I have ended up reading quite a bit and as I have gathered knowledge this area, it's become less of a mysterious, occluded and vaguely threatening enigma (with overtones of comic-book-style mutations) and I've moved steadily in the pro-GM direction.

There are scientific and emotive arguments on both sides, and it is important to consider these - but not endlessly. Once concerns have been addressed, a spectator without bias should theoretically change their view. However, when the most scientific summation of protesters' concerns (here) is speedily and roundly rubbished (in the comments section, especially Matthew Cooper) will this change a made-up mind? Doubtful. My previously unmade-up mind has been made by sound (i.e. I haven't seen them convincingly refuted) arguments for the research (or, at least against destroying it which is really the case in point here) that litter the web, from a rebuttal by the head of the project in The Telegraph, views in The Spectator, and those of similarly frustrated Greens, and elsewhere; for those who have not seen them, here is a short summary:

Contamination: The statistics are quoted and explained elsewhere, but as far as I can make out, whilst this is possible, it is so unlikely as to be almost negligible, as wheat is around 99% self-pollinated. Nevertheless, relevant precautions are taken, and thus around each field there is a minimum of a 33 m barrier, including a wheat “pollen barrier” between this and any other cereal crops or couch grass (the only known wild plant able to cross-pollinate with wheat).

Immoral bioscience corporations: this is the only anti-GM argument which I put any weight in, and it is an important question: Will the results of the trial be used protectively by large corporations interested only in their own profit margins; the answer is a simple “No”:

“Our work is publically funded, we have pledged that our results will not be patented and will not be owned by any private company – if our wheat proves to be beneficial we want it to be available to farmers around the world at minimum cost.”

This is the beauty of governmental funding for research, which has been such a strength of the UK.

Health effects:

“There's uncertainty about the health effect of this - there's been no adequate long-term health safety testing”

So there’s a lack of research in this area, is what you’re saying? And the answer to this is to destroy research in progress?! Health effects of GM crops are routinely trotted out to make an argument. If you think you are at risk from DNA within the plants, let me ask you this: Have you ever found DNA from your food affect you in any way? Symptoms such as sprouting feathers after eating a lot of poultry, or becoming rounder and redder in August when the tomato plants are fruiting and you eat several kilos a day? Maybe there are more complex questions here that are not being clearly asked – but spouting off about health effects without being specific is just propagating misinformation which serves nobody’s best interests.

I was brought up by a scientist and a green, who was one of the most unselfish and caring people I've met, believing in the better world which will come through advancement of knowledge. Despite this idea that science is inherently "male" (fundamentally so, rather than in the abysmal ratio of female to male scientists), I would argue that this is absolute rubbish - "science" is a much wider concept than is regularly appreciated, and is the only way to reliably pass on knowledge from one person/group of people/generation to another. A scientific mind is one that will build an opinion on the world around a firm foundation of demonstrable facts. If some of your facts later turn out to be false, part of your foundation begins to weaken, and you are required to rebuild it. There are too many things in the world for one person to reliably develop scientific opinions about; this is what research is for; checking the strength of these foundations, and proposing ways to rebuild if necessary. If I saw any kind of anti-GM arguments supported by a weight of research without the need for cherry-picking or blurring with misinformation and ill-defined fears, I would allow it to have an effect on my opinion - because of that "pragmatic" modifier that I use above. Far from fulfilling this gap, the group has refused to engage in honest and open debate with the scientists: I can only assume that this is borne out of an active unwillingness to confront the facts, and the normal people explaining those facts, that might force a re-address of one’s worldview. To this I would say: if you are afraid, and so you either fail to listen to the arguments of the other side, or do listen but do not allow them any traction on your opinion, you are apt to end up with a half-crumbled sandcastle of a view, which is not conducive to solving the much larger, Earth-shattering problems with which we are confronted.

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