One week, one half marathon, no sugar

I’ve made it a week without any sugar!

 

I literally had children waving bananas and fistfuls of Jelly Babies in my face on Sunday during the Eastbourne Half Marathon and still I remained true to my promise to shun all sugar for Lent. In all honesty I probably should have just had a Jelly Baby because at mile eleven I surpassed exhaustion and slipped into a state of numb, mildly hallucinogenic delirium that wasn’t helped by the presence of a bloke in a Peppa Pig costume keeping up a persistent pace a few steps behind me.

At the finish line I was greeted by boxes and boxes of free chocolate bars, which again – in a totally unprecedented move, I ignored. (Chocolate + free = absolute frenzy).

Instead I waited. I ignored the little light flashing in my brain saying ‘quickly, eat something sweet before you pass out you poor delicate thing’ and instead fuelled up on my mum’s homemade chicken and veg casserole followed by a cup of tea, and it was perfect.

By giving up sugar I have finally managed to get a grip on the sense of anxiety I get when I’m hungry. I now realise I don’t need an immediate strong hit of something sweet  – I’m perfectly capable of waiting for something more nourishing and I’ll still feel just as satisfied afterwards.

I now see just how much of a habit eating has become in my life. I think sugar messed up my appetite. I’ve always maintained that I have a ‘different stomach’ for puddings. Obviously not literally – just in the sense that I can be completely full up from my dinner but still want a pudding. Equally I could keep munching my way through a chocolate bar long after I’d stopped enjoying it. It’s addictive – that rush of endorphins you get with the sweetness.

So far I have lost about 4lbs and nearly an inch from my waist and tummy. I feel energetic – I’ve still been going to all my exercise classes, I’m sleeping OK. Every now and then I fancy some chocolate but I just bury that thought. I know I can’t have any so I won’t. Anyway, I’ve only got five weeks to go now until Easter – and I’ve already got my sights set on the massive Lindor egg in CoOp. I’m just biding my time, egg. You wait.

Published by Zoe

28 years old, trained journalist, professional writer and aspiring novelist. I'm based in the beautiful English town of Eastbourne, I have two guinea pigs who live in my spare room, and I love food. Not cooking it, just eating it. I also like beer and staring out to sea.

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