Cricket in Valentines Park (Day 4)

Today my weight stayed constant at 69.8kg for a third day on the trot. However my Body Fat went down to 18.1% my Body Water was 56.3% and my Body Muscle went up to 42.6%. Could this rise in muscle percentage have been due to the high protein, low fat cottage cheese I consumed just before going to bed? Possibly. Maybe it was the almonds. 

Despite the slight improvement I decided to make some changes. High fat cheddar was now banned. There is some mozzarella in the fridge which I am going to sprinkle on roast vegetables later this week. But once I’ve finished that pack, I will no longer be consuming high saturated fat dairy products. My dairy product consumption will be limited to skimmed milk, low fat cottage cheese, low fat fromage frais and low fat natural yogurt. I will restrict starchy carbohydrates to before and after workouts to fuel and refuel my body. I will avoid carbohydrates and fruit in the evenings as my need for the quick access energy will diminish as the day comes to a close. My training regime will also see some changes. I am considering the very real possibility that by doing a two hour workout on an empty stomach I may well be going into starvation mode and melting away the little muscle I have whilst keeping the fat. So this morning I decided to limit my empty stomach workout to just walking around the park twice. My new personal record is 1 hour 1 minute and 58 seconds. 

I came home to a double lime and honey hot drink and a protein shake. For breakfast I ate virtually fat free fromage frais mixed with a handful of blueberries, blackberries, green grapes, muesli, mixed nuts and a teaspoon of honey. It was a breakfast fit for a king. It beat any off-the-shelf cereal I have ever eaten hands down! 

By not doing an excessive workout in the morning I also found that my energy levels were not as low as in previous mornings. I was able to sit at my computer and start work on this blog. 

A couple of hours after my first workout I prepared for my next training session by eating two multi-seed toasts with peanut butter and a banana. I wanted to make sure I had enough energy in me so that I would not go into starvation mode during the workout. While I was eating, I got a text from an old Woodbridge High School friend of mine asking me to join him and a group of lads at Valentines Park for some cricket. Yes of course, how could I forget? Earlier in the week I had opted into the idea when his brother contacted me on Facebook trying to arrange a session for Sunday. 

A taped ball, not quite as manly as a cricket ball, but a step up from a tennis ball

A taped ball, not quite as manly as a cricket ball, but a step up from a tennis ball

At the park I was greeted by Ihetsham, his brother Waqas and a mixture of young and old guys who I think were mostly Sham’s relatives. In the end there were twelve of us in total and we played a couple six-a-side games. I had fun. I might have played embarrassingly bad and single-handedly lost us one of the games, but, I did have fun. And that’s the most important thing. The first over I balled, I started off ok, but as the game progressed I found it difficult to control the ball. Or should I say hand. My hand refused to obey my orders. Fingers: “Let it go.” “Let the ball go.” My fingers just refused to let the ball go in time. So I’d end up balling a crazy bouncer that was ridiculously wide. I tried again. “Let it go.” “Let it go.” Hand says: “Let me think about it.” This time the ball travelled really fast. But not in front of me towards the wicket and the batsman. No, no, no, no, no! Not even that. No, not even a crazy wide. This time the ball went flying behind me 180 degrees completely the wrong way. It’s as if my right arm, hand and fingers mutinied against me and decided they wanted to play with the other batsman stood behind me and aim towards the wicket at the other end of the pitch. It’s a conspiracy I tell you! 

Then it was my turn to bat. Perhaps I would perform better at this? No. First innings out for a duck, balled out on my second or third ball by my old classmate Ihetsham Ashraf. My second innings I was out for a golden duck (facing the first ball). My third innings I did a lot better. I got thirteen runs not out. The baller I was facing was a young man. I think he was 8 or 10 years old. Did I feel bad for hitting him for a four on his first ball? Hell no. I was enjoying every moment. I needed this. I hadn’t played cricket in almost a decade and I needed to get comfortable in the crease. I needed to ease my way back into cricket. I needed to boost my confidence because all performance is 95% confidence after all (scientifically objective statistic courtesy of yours truly). I needed to remember what it was like feeling the bat hit the ball and watch it whizz off into the air. I needed to feel my heart beating as I ran across the crease. It felt good. 

Even when it came to balling it wasn’t all bad. I balled my old classmate Ihetsham out twice during the course of the afternoon. The first time he knocked me about for a few twos and maybe a four here and there, but then I balled him out middle stump. I can do this. I can put down the mutiny of my right arm, hand and fingers. I can make them obey. I can make them cooperate. I can make them excel as a team and perform. The second game I got to ball an over, I think I balled Ihetsham out first ball. It was a beautiful ball. As I let the ball go I pushed down on the ball with my middle finger and thus twisted the ball slightly to the right. It landed in front of him inline with the off stump and it swung in. It swung in! He went for a shot; it flew past his bat and knocked the leg stump out of the ground! I was getting good at this. My confidence was up. 

But then it seemed those treacherous imbeciles were conspiring against their master again. The rest of the over lasted about two and half overs. Mostly wides and no bowls, a lot of fours and sixes. That over lost our team the game despite its promising start. 

Regardless of my treacherous performance, those two hours were a lot of fun. If I got the chance to play again I definitely would. Practice makes perfect. 

After the game I headed over to the outdoor gym and continued with my resistance training. It was hot and there were lots of people around especially kids pissing about with the gym equipment. This was very off-putting. After doing my first set of dips I considered quitting and going home. Then I remembered the quote: “Turning up is 80% of the battle”. Simply by being there and getting on with it even if it wasn’t to the best of my abilities it would contribute towards my goals. My performance was a mixture of some sets being better than previous days and some worse than previous days. But I’m glad I did it anyhow. 

When I got home I had another double lime with honey hot drink, protein shake and a mango. I then ate a black-eyed beans curry my wife made with brown rice. A little later in the evening I went to my parent’s house for a visit. There I ate pink lentils that my mum made that evening and urad dal that my dad made the day before. Both were seriously delicious.

When I got home, as I didn’t have any cottage cheese left in the house I had about 10 teaspoons of fromage frais hoping it would do the trick and then went to bed.

 
August 9th, 2010
40 Day Detox Diary
  • http://www.kruse.co.uk seo reviews

    Researching the background behind the Pakistani Cricket team no-ball apparent scandal bought it home to me just how enormous the cricketing industry is, uniforms, bats, balls, clothing etc. Billions of pounds are at stake here. Surely the players themselves (without whom none of this enterprise could happen) need to be far better paid than they seem to be in order to remove any temptation on their part to scupper this huge enterprise by, against all the rules of fair play on the pitch, bolstering their relative pittance of a wage by illegal betting and so gaining a small extra crust for themselves. How about more largesse to the players in the first instance? Pay them well in the first place and you won’t develop these problems.

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