Wednesday Weigh-In - 23 April

So today was meant to be the rebooting of the diet. After two and a half weeks away from the office, the time had come to re-engage with spinach and ditch the junk. Problem was, I didn't make it into work today, and so the opportunity for change was not taken. More about that later.

Yesterday was supposed to be a day all about me. With my wife back to work, the eldest back at school and the little one off to nursery, I had that most rare of days where I was meant to footloose and fancy free. No work, just a day to myself. I was hoping to get out for a gentle run to see how my knee is healing. I'd planned for a spot of lunch with my mum after getting my hair cut. Plans were afoot to dust the cobwebs off my guitar and annoy the neighbours with some Drop-D noise. But typically there was a series of spanners in the works that rather put paid to the once in a blue moon Graham day.

Firstly, the little one developed gunky eyes over Easter. His nursery have pretty strict rules in place, and when it comes to gunky eyes, he needed to have started a course of eyedrops to be allowed in. Too young for the walk in centre, it meant Tuesday morning I had to take him to the GPs for an emergency appointment, with a view to getting him into nursery later in the morning. Still time for me to have my day. Or so I thought. After dropping the eldest at the school gates, little one and I made our way to the car to get to the surgery. He was strapped in, I collapsed his pushchair but when bending down to pick it up to put in the boot of the car, something clicked in my lower back and suddenly I was in pain. And barely able to stand up straight.

Despite the discomfort, I got myself into the car, drove to the GP and the little guy had his appointment. He then went to nursery, complete with drops. I went home and tried to deal with my latest injury. So much for running! I still made it to the barbershop, though came to regret it as the hairdresser was in an oober-talkative mood and so I found myself hunched in a lot of pain while she yapped about her dog that she recently had to be put down. Relief came in the form of lunch at my mother's house, though I later questioned the wisdom of egg and beans on toast. Windypops + lower back pain did not = fun.

For the rest of the afternoon I rested up. When the time came to get the boys, I popped a couple of ibuprofen tablets and soldiered on with the usual evening chores of dinner, bath and bedtime. Little one didn't want to go to sleep and when he finally did, I was unable to get up off the bed to transfer him to the cot. After several more failed attempts and my back in pieces, he finally nodded off.

When it was time to go to bed, I was really hoping for a nice stress free night time, so that I could grab some decent sleep. The little man requires catheterisation before I can turn in, and given his efforts to stay awake earlier in the evening, I fancied my chances of getting him changed without waking. If I hadn't already worked out that it was really not my day, I was greeted with this scene when I hobbled up to his bedroom

Yes daddy, I'm going to sleep on my tummy to deny access

Inevitably he woke, and needed settling. Fortunately after that it was a pretty straightforward night and I had perhaps my best sleep in the last month. But when the phone alarm rang out this morning telling me to get out of bed, I couldn't. So much pain. After eventually getting to my feet, I nearly cried when I couldn't reach my trousers on the floor. Everything took three times as long. I came to the decision fairly quickly that I wasn't going to work. Over the last 6 months I've refused sick days when I've been at death's door, stumbling around on one leg and been so run down that I was resembling roadkill. The seemingly mundane activity of lifting a folded pushchair did for me what sleep deprivation and snottyness had failed, and I settled for a day of discomfort with a blanket and the snooker, rather than soldier on through return drives and hours sat at a PC. Definitely the right choice, even if it meant another day of food indiscipline.

Somehow or other I did manage to get onto the scales this morning. The things I do for my loyal readers eh? I didn't really care what they said, as I was yelping after bending down to place them on the floor. But if there was something to make me smile, it was was I saw on that little digital display. Apparently the last three weeks have done nothing to the numbers, and I've remained the same as the April 2 reading. The Easter break may have left me with what I hope is a temporary mobility impairment, but it apparently did not damage to my waistline. Result.

Really? 

My immediate plans then are to get back onto my feet, both metaphorically and literally. All being well I can get to work tomorrow and think about a lunchtime of salad. Any plans to run are very much suspended. Probably just as well I missed out on the ballot for the London Marathon yesterday morning, courtesy of two gunky little eyes, which inadvertently led to my spinal issues. With exercise off the agenda indefinitely, it is down to me to conjure the mental will to redress the recent weight gain.