According to “experts at Leeds University”, the formula for the perfect bacon sandwich is:
N = C + {fb (cm) . fb (tc)} + fb (Ts) + fc . ta
where
N = force in Newtons required to break the cooked bacon,
fb = function of the bacon type,
fc = function of the condiment/filling effect,
Ts = serving temperature,
tc = cooking time,
ta = time or duration of application of condiment/filling,
cm = cooking method,
C=Newtons required to break uncooked bacon.
It partly (I presume) explains why I enjoyed my breakfast so much this morning. The other bit of the explanation is that I let out the nutritional leash another couple of inches today, and was overwhelmed by a sense of relief after a week of finely tuned, minimalistic eating experiences. I was like a ravenous dog who’d been thrown a slab of raw meat.
That might not be quite fair. I’ve eaten well in the last week, almost following Hal Higdon’s instruction to “eat a wide variety of lightly processed foods”. The “almost” is down to me not actually taping a reminder to the fridge door as he suggests. That seemed like a step too far along the starey-eyed road for comfort.
One of the good things about ‘eating properly’ is that you begin to appreciate food. I’ll disown the ravenous dog image now that it’s served its brief purpose. I’ve not been hungry at all. Or less so than usual. When I eat crap, I want to eat more crap. When I don’t eat crap, I don’t miss it.
The result is a loss of seven pounds or so, and a shinier coat — though the latter may be explained by the Easter Special at the local dry cleaner. More important is the renewed sense of purpose. I’ve been gathering ideas, plans and targets but I’m keeping quiet about them at the moment. Too many false dawns. Which reminds me…
I had a quite bizarre experience recently when I woke up at two o’clock in the morning and heard a voice coming through my radio, talking about me, and telling me about my tentative running plans for the next twelve months.
?
If you conclude from this that I’ve gone quite nuts, that’s OK. It would be a reasonable end to a train of thought. But no, if I’m struggling with my mental state at the moment, it’s trying to cope with feeling extra sane — something brought about by the chomping of a wide variety of raw and lightly processed foods, and washed down with no alcohol whatsoever.
But it’s true: I woke up and heard someone’s voice coming through the radio, blithely stating what my running plans are for later this year, and next spring. I’ll explain soon enough, but I need to be sure that the plans are stapled onto my head, as it were, and not just a flight of fancy.
It’s been a great few days. An extended Easter weekend with no vexatious commitments is a very, very fine phenomenon. And my football team won twice, almost guaranteeing survival in their division for this season. Phew.
That and a bacon sandwich.
What could be better?
