Sitting by the window at the Timberyard in Covent Garden, having a cheat meal of avocado toast and English Breakfast tea, and arguing with Oscar Wilde via margin notes in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.
A perfect way to spend a chilly Sunday in overcast London.
When the revolution comes, the first thing they will do is close the coffee houses.
Then they will burn them.
To me it always be “New Highbury” rather than “Emirates Stadium,” but the name is far less important than what this place represents: the home of Arsenal.
Defiantly unlike the curated star lineup that is Manchester United or Chelsea, Arsenal is a scrappy, idiosyncratic North London soccer team that develops players and combines them with overlooked talent from around the world. They are more Dodgers than Yankees, more Lakers than Warriors, more Steelers than Patriots.
And for all of those reasons, they are more lovable, especially to people who have built their success on a mixture of heritage, talent, and determination in the face of adversity.
Maybe I am projecting, but I don’t mind. These are the virtues I admire, I choose my heroes accordingly.
Arsenal won this match, as it happens, a win that bumped them up from 6th in the standings to 5th. An incredible day for me, one that served as a fitting preface to my sabbatical that starts after next week.
Taking a break from a brutal business trip to watch my boys at Arsenal take on Watford.
Go, you Kings of London!
Good morning from Costa Coffee in King’s Cross.
The imposing Victorian edifice across the street is the train station housing Platform 9-3/4 . (For you muggle/nomaj types, that’s the London terminus of the Hogwarts Express.)
The coffee in the foreground is an iced Americano. After a wholesome breakfast of oats, almond butter, and whey protein, my stomach is returning to normal.
The dirty vodka martini at the Henrietta Bar was way off plan, the Balthazar salmon and lentils slightly less so, and the asparagus was spot on. In all, I kept to my macro nutrients and calories, but fats were a bit high on the day.
I woke in the middle of the night not feeling well for the first time since starting training. Was it jet lag? Was the food off? Was it the meal? Or was it the first alcoholic beverage in two months?
I am assuming all of the above. I am resolving to be done with the booze and sticking to plan. Clearly, my metabolism is changing, I think for the better.
I miss having a kitchen…
There is no better taste in the world than the taste of smoked salmon at 30,000 feet. Talk about comfort food…
Pan-fried Tilapia. Asparagus. Cherry tomatoes. A shot of olive oil. And sparkling water with a lime twist.
340 calories, tons of protein, almost zero carbs, and I suspect my trainer would approve.
Thank you, Virgin Atlantic, for helping me start the trip on a healthy note!
So here I am, about to head out on my first trip to my beloved England in thirteen years, and I shall not be indulging in comfort food.
No meat pies.
No fish and chips.
No scones with jam.
No clotted cream.
So with me I carry the makings of the half of the meals I will eat on the trip:
- Protein powder
- Protein bars
- Protein nacho cheese chips/crisps
To which I will add, after a quick dash to Tesco Metro:
- Rice cakes
- Rolled oats
- Almond butter
The rest of my eats will concentrate heavily on grilled chicken, egg whites, and jasmine rice.
This will be an adventure, not just to add exercise and food prep to my 15-hour workdays, but to resist the food, wine, and beer.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Since my Trainer Ryan has me eating little meals six or seven times a day, MyFitnessPal wasn’t working for me anymore.
Then I discovered that I could program up to six meals, and call them what I wanted.
Thank you, Professor Tolkien, for the inspiration.