I'm about to get on an airplane tomorrow. I'm sitting in my hotel, in the bar, in London. I've been in the UK for just over a week, and in London since Monday. I've worked four days at my company's office in Soho, I've drunk with noders in Hackney Downs, I've been all over central London, I've smoked Cuban cigars in Hyde Park, and I've (OXFORD MOTHERFUCKIN' COMMA) bought suits in Fulham under the guidance of the inestimable Clockmaker. Oh, and I went to SURREAL CARNIVAL EXPERIMENT, Friday's live Underworld show. Yes, that's the main reason I came to London. Yes, I came here two years ago to see them. Yes, I saw them last year in New York City.

None of these things, which are each cool enough to make me jealous of my own life, are the most surprising and grin-inducing to me. What really blows my mind about this trip is how different it was from last time I was here, almost exactly two years ago.

Since then, even since last Underworld show in NYC, I've undergone bariatric surgery and had ten months to recover afterwards. I've documented some small part of that process elsewhere on the site. But how different my life is hadn't really sunk in until this week, and it can be expressed in one number.


Since arriving in London on Monday afternoon earlier in the week (it's Saturday evening as I write this) I have walked, according to my devices, 51.4 miles. Twelve of those miles today.

I mean.

A year ago, it would have taken me probably two months to rack up 50 miles of walking. I'm pretty sure about these numbers, because I still have my tracker data. When I was here last time, I walked 1.5 miles home from a pub and felt pretty good about myself, as well as in a lot of pain in my feet, knees and hips.

Now? I'm in some pain, yes, but it's all muscle pain. Stretching makes it better. My feet hurt, sure. But not in a crazy way. Mostly muscles, again. No blisters (I have good walking shoes, recommended by JessicaJ).

I feel like this week means I really am truly 'better'. What's even more amazing - despite walking those miles this week, my eating hasn't varied much. I went up to 1400 calories a day for two days, but the other three I was between 1100 and 1200, like I've always been. I didn't start binging carbs. I didn't eat to overfull, not once. I snacked on a bunch of nuts at work, and was worried about it until I realized how much energy I was burning walking. Even then, I was only 150-200 cal/day higher than normal. Estimating how much energy I burned walking, I'm actually eating *less* than I was in NYC in terms of unburnt calories.

When I finished 10.5 of my 12 miles today, I had dinner. 5 ounces of crispy duck and a cup of hot and sour soup. Both super tasty. I skipped the pancakes. Protein and fat. That's what is good for me now, in that order. I'd had a yoghurt earlier in the day which had 20g of carbs in it, and that was pretty much my carb allowance - that and a couple of prunes at breakfast. Oh, and I had a single square of 90% Dark Lindt chocolate, that was 60 calories and 6g carbs. But now I think about that - that itself is amazing.

I had a single square. The rest of the bar is sitting on my desk in my room upstairs. I didn't even think about having a second one. I didn't want it. Also in my room are 24 Cadbury Flake bars, 5 Curly-Wurly bars and two bags of Mini Eggs. They are for my sister-in-law, who is pregnant and sent me a sternly-worded demand for Cadbury upon learning I was in England. I haven't raided those either. Haven't wanted to. And it's not just fear of her hormone-fuelled wrath.

Fuck me, I'm learning to eat when I'm (actually) hungry, and stop when I'm not.

Medical science, people. Even though what it proposes may sound scary as hell ("Don't worry, sir, we're just going to remove 90% of your stomach, but everything will be fine") sometimes? It works. And how.

Oh yeah. Clock and I went to the science museum. I stood in front of a goofy computer exhibit on facial recognition, and it (after asking me to take off my glasses) guessed that I was a 44 year old male. Not bad.

It also said I was "100% happy."

Allowing for (massive) margin of error, that's still pretty fucking amazing if you read my daylogs on this site going back a decade and a half.

Custo out.