Edwin McGreal
A few weeks ago I decided I’d give the 2013 version of Westport’s Biggest Loser a go. For the smart alecs among you, no, it is not a personality deficit competition. Twelve of us are competing against each other to see who can lose the most weight over Lent, all in aid of Western Care.
The decision to compete was made for me. I hinted to one of the organisers, Kevin Kelly, that I might be interested and before I knew it, I was signed up. I’m not sure Kelly has moved as quickly since.
It will be a bit of fun, for a good cause and Lord knows I could do with shedding a few pounds.
Temptation surrounds me though. Where I now live on Castlebar Street I have a sweet shop and a kebab house underneath me, a Chinese across the road, am one minute of a walk from about ten pubs. All fine establishments but none designed to aid weight loss plans. On the other hand I’m three minutes walk from the gym but had been struggling to make that a well-worn route.
One Sunday morning I was hit by the reality of the stupidity of the types of justifications I had been using to ‘indulge’.
Out on the town the previous night for a skip of pints, I should have left it just at that. But with the craving taking hold at 2am, a creative mind will always find a way to justify a large curry-cheese chips and a kebab. I said I’d leave the pub early - yes, my justification considered 2am early - and instead of having one more pint, I could go for the fodder. A quid pro quo if you like.
Despite my insistence, the pint was bought for me and I felt it would be a shame to waste it and, hey, at least I tried. The kebab house still received my custom, without any guilt, my justification having worked its magic.
I’ve been relatively well behaved around Westport since the competition started. Trouble is that the competition spans two holidays I’m going on. Yes, yes, life of Reilly etc.
A week in Lanzarote will conclude just two days before the final weigh-in. I could call it a week’s warm weather training camp but the only thing likely to be balanced about my diet in the Canaries is a burger in one hand and a pint in the other.
I guess I’ll have to live on water and fruit for the four weeks in between so. Pity I’ve to walk past about 30 different types of temptation on the way to the nearest fruit and veg shop.
