Shieldmaiden of Gondor

Self image is a funny thing.

I started a program to get exercise and lose weight in the middle of March. Patti found it on one of the Lord of the Rings websites, TORN: a walking challenge for Shieldmaidens of Rohan to walk to Rivendell - it's called the Rivendell Challenge. There are several boards discussing it. I latched onto the one at Weightwatchers.com .

Now it's 458 miles from Bag End to Elrond's Elvish palace at Rivendell - or is that a Halfelven palace? The goal is to do it before The Return of the King comes out in December. As it happens, at that date Patti and Marcelle and I plan to be at a big Tolkien Gathering in Toronto, The Gathering of the Fellowship, so it's the perfect thing to aim for in terms of weight-loss and fitness.

Yesterday I reached the 200 mile mark on my walk to Rivendell. At this rate, I'll be there well before December, and I think I might see if I can go all the way to Gondor, where some of my favourite characters dwell.

Pause for a few happy thoughts of said characters. I like the image - the fantasy - of being a shieldmaiden of Rohan. Shieldmaiden of Telcontar - yeah, there's the ticket.

Anyway: self-image. For a couple of years now, due to illness and other problems, I'd been putting on weight, and it was time to stop and reverse the process. Until yesterday, whenever I accidentally looked in a mirror, I'd flinch and think: fat person. Not a good thing.

Yesterday I caught sight of myself and didn't think 'fat person'. So what happened? I can't have lost a lot of weight overnight, nice thought though it is. I must have looked on Sunday pretty much the same as I looked on Saturday. What changed in my perceptions?

I had once heard that it takes six weeks for any change to be visible in a regular exercise program. (I would amend that to add: 'except for the aches and pains'.) The books I was reading this time said six months. Six months! Okay, I'm at ten weeks now. And fourteen to go.

I actually haven't lost much weight. Six pounds, last I weighed myself. But I'm down two sizes of jeans, and the books I've been reading warn about this: the frustration and disappointment when you've been exercising hard and watching what you eat, and the scales don't budge. It'll happen, say the books. Something about fat to muscle conversion. Huh. In a way, it doesn't matter. I don't care what my weight is, I just want to look and feel better than I did.

Yoga helps. My new yoga class in wonderful. The only trick: finding the time to practise yoga. I can squeeze walking time in by walking when I would normally take the bus somewhere. If my destination is central (like going to work) it actually takes the same time, or less, to walk, when you factor in time spent standing at bus stops. And cheaper - I rationalized my purchase of The Marvel Encyclopedia: X-Men yesterday by telling myself it was the money I would otherwise spend on a bus pass for May. Right. I should be saving up for new hiking boots.

I want to have the strength and stamina to walk anywhere I want to go. I've always been a walker; explored the west end of the city as a teenager on foot, now I'm working on the central and mid-south of the city.

Today was a perfect day for walking: sunny, warm but not too warm. Lilacs are just starting to bloom. The Tulip Festival is in full colourful force along the canal. I wanted to walk along the south side of the river, where there are lovely walking paths: the trick is to get there, as there aren't many bridges over either the canal or the river. I went from the Pretoria Bridge to the Hurdman Bridge, where, I was delighted to see, there is pedestrian access. After that, it was like a little holiday in the country: leaves just coming into bloom, giving the world that fresh-green virginal look. Birds singing everywhere - I wish I could identify birds by their song, but alas, I only speak budgie.

While walking, I'd hoped for inspiration for my next Smallville slash story, but the brain was content to remain perfectly uninspired. Just enjoying the view and refusing to think.

Four miles, maybe five, before breakfast. Hot damn. And an infusion of outdoor springtime beauty. I am proud, I am mighty, nothing in the 'verse can stop me.