How am I going to stay skinny in this country?! This is a question that’s been on my mind since I arrived and realised I couldn’t finish my first meal off the plane (a chicken salad). It hasn’t helped that I have developed a bad habit of having pudding after every evening meal – mainly pie shaped. I’ve had apple, peach, pumpkin, pecan, cream, and, most recently, turtle pie! All with either cream or ice cream. And I wonder why my jeans are noticeably tighter. Time for action.

John, who has an irritatingly smug ability to maintain a bean-pole like physique in the face of all these extra calories, has been for a run a handful of times since we arrived. He comes back all bouncy and telling me how great he feels. I scowl from my bed and go back to drinking my coffee with vanilla creamer (I know!).

I’m normally someone who works out 4 times a week, a regular gym-goer, with the odd run thrown in when I can’t make the gym – running’s not my favourite activity as I find it really dull and prefer weights and classes. But needs must, so the other morning I got out of bed (with bad grace) when John started bouncing around in his shorts and t shirt, put on my heart-rate monitor and dragged myself outside.

What I hadn’t banked on is that all roads at our current location (see previous posts) lead down and therefore ultimately back up. John’s preferred route is to run down and back up each of the three roads leading out of Steve and Deb’s driveway. At the top of a mountain, there’s not really another option. Unfortunately for me, finishing work a couple of weeks before we left, with farewell meals, drinks and several Cornish pasties, put paid to my normal gym routine earlier than anticipated, so this mountainous run was the first proper workout I’d done in about 6 weeks. My heart rate was exploding and I only managed 25 minutes before I had to collapse, exhausted, on the drive way, while John bounded off for another segment.

This morning was round two, and I bettered my calorie burn and pace, though it was still very hard work on the uphill sections. In my mind, all I can hear is the old adage “You can’t out train a bad diet”, and how true this is. If anyone has any tips for making healthy choices in the midst of America’s tempting treats, please do post them below. In the meantime, I intend to keep  up the running, as I know from experience I tend to make better food choices when I’m working out regularly.  I’m hoping that when the next pie looms, I will remember the hills  – and the size of my jeans!