I've done well with sticking to my punishment and really have eaten nothing but Dorset Cereal (150g for breakfast, 115g for lunch and 75g for dinner) and drunk only water. There have been no sneaky crumbs or wee tipples of squash when no one is looking.
What I hadn't predicted at the beginning of the week was the effect this would have on my body. I'm bloated and lethargic but still focused on my main goal, training. So this evening once I was home from work I put my kit on and set off on a three mile run to be followed by a ten mile cycle. Certainly nothing I am not capable of. However, after only one mile I was not feeling well, not well at all!
My mouth had quickly dried out and become sticky, the first sign of dehydration. Everything went down hill from there. By the time I hit one-and-a-half-miles my chest was getting tight and my breath restricted. Then at two miles my right calf began to cramp, oh Jove's did it cramp good!!! The gods of cramp had taken one look at my poor calf and sent their mightiest warriors to stab at it with their Blades of Glory!!!
Suffice to say it was a miserable, painful, run. Well that's not entirely true.
Despite the early discomfort, minor dizzy spells and demon cramp I managed a fair time of 26min 42sec. Also, and most importantly, I managed to grit my teeth and keep running without stopping.
This mental power over the body can prove essential when a fight is not going your way. You've taken some nasty blows, you're a point down with thirty seconds to go and all you want to do is crawl into a ball and cry for mum. However, Mum isn't there and if you crawl into a ball that bloke ain't going to stop hitting or kicking you! All you can do is force yourself to keep pushing, to keep looking for that one opening, that gap that will end it all:
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