Night Off

So, I am not at the gym and I won’t beat myself up about it.

Tonight I am not going out socialising. Ever since Gym Buddy Day a free evening would have meant a trip to the gym but, this evening, I am sat ripping music so that my computer’s jukebox contains a few more of the CDs that I am running out of space to house. It’s a rare, spare, evening but I couldn’t face the thought of the gym tonight. It would have been the third consecutive day I would have gone and I have, so far, been fairly religious about my ‘ever other day’ rule. I tend to find evenings at home with leisure as my only goal are the worst in terms of eating; which is why I am sat ripping music. I have given myself a purpose for tonight. Usually on evenings such as this I would go to the gym but restrict myself with a few lengths of the pool – I have always felt that swimming doesn’t contravene the ‘ever other day’ rule as I find it the hardest of exercises because I don’t do it properly. Therefore, it doesn’t count as exercise. Sure, I stay above water and motor up and down but I have no technique and I always feel that when I am out of breath in the pool it’s because I haven’t been breathing correctly. Anyway, there are two pool-based classes back-to-back on Tuesdays which means those of us who just want to swim are restricted to a small portion of the water and that makes it too hard. So, I am sat here listening to The Hidden Cameras and enjoying every minute of it.

No Steroids Near Me

Don’t stop me now we are doing so well.

Since February I have maintained regular gym training sessions and have found myself pleasantly surprised by my own enthusiasm for pounding a treadmill or rowing nowhere several times a week. I always return from the gym energetic and enthusiastic but I am starting to note a worrying trend in myself in attempting to rationalise avoidance. So far I have not stopped myself going but my head keeps thinking that I could just miss this one and have a rest. It would be good to rest. I think this is a worrying trend so, my gym buddy, time to put those motivational techniques to the test.

I do have to say that if, like yesterday, Thursday turns out to be a designated gym day then it’s not too bad as the cute aquarobics instructor is marching up and down the pool side encouraging a bunch of ladies to float better (or something). You get a nice view from the third exercise cycle from the entrance.

I am fairly certain that my gym is not full of gay men. Firstly, there is far too much sport on the television screens (although I did watch football match earlier this week – Hull v Bradford if your interested. Bradford won). Secondly, there are no signs of the steroid problem amongst gay men identified by the NHS – although there are a worrying number of overweight middle-aged men wearing those head/sweat bands that used to be popular with tennis players. It’s not a good look – even in a gym.

Gym Buddy – We Must Not Stop Now

Six month’s on and I reached my goal

At the start of February I decided you were to become my gym buddy. I didn’t drink alcohol in January 2004. The fact that I managed to survive a month against all the pressures from outside meant I knew I had the will power to attack my growing girth. On Monday February 9th 2004 we (you and me) commenced healthy eating (but not a fad diet) and, importantly, an exercise routine.

I do not think that I had exercised in any kind of serious way since I was about 15 when I was forced to take physical education classes (in my final years at school snooker and crown green bowling counted as gym class). Over the years I had been gradually buying larger and larger clothes but it had not alarmed me. I knew I was not fit, I knew I was getting fat but even chest pains in 1997 (when the doctor said ‘lose weight’) didn’t make me give up eating in the excessive quantities that I did.

So, on February 9th 2004 I exercised. And then I weighed myself for the first time in a half a decade. I knew I would be heavy and, to be honest, was not shocked by what the scales said to me. What frightened me was the realisation that if I continued at this rate of gaining weight I would be heaver than 20 stone in less than ten years. It was a little bit of a wake-up call.

On February 10th I ached but on February 11th I hauled myself back to the gym. The exercise was surprisingly easy. I followed my own programme which stuck to ‘fat burn’ routines on the various pieces of equipment (bike, treadmill, rowing machine) and gradually worked up to keep my heart at a good rate of burning fat and that left me out of breath. I did not want to push so hard that I would be put off or, worse, pass out. At times it has been hard to motivate myself to go but not too hard and I have been disciplined enough to ensure that even the occasional lapses were overcome. I promised myself I would not feel guilty about missed days or missed calorie targets – and I haven’t.

During the process I read a lot about other people’s experiences. Lance Arthur’s Fat Headed, from around the time I started this, was probably the most important. It’s all about mental attitude a little bit of will power/self control.

Fortunately for me I have always been a reasonably healthy eater. I do not binge on burgers, chips or masses of fried food. I just ate too much of everything. When I compare the quantity of pasta I used to eat in a single portion against a measured, calorie-counted healthy-eating quantity, I am embarrassed by the sheer greed.

Over the months many things kept me motivated. The laughter when my old trousers would no longer stay up; the move of my Body Mass Index from obese to healthy; the pleasure of buying new (and better fitting clothes) and the comments of people I meet (except for the one customer who told me he’d been scared to say anything because he thought I was ill). I’ve found new ways to enjoy less food and I flabbergasted myself by enjoying the light exercise I do. I have days when I consume more than others. I just know that the occasional bad day is not going to set me back.

I must say that it hasn’t really been hard. Sure, there have been harder days and difficult moments with temptations along the way but I just set my mind to it and the rest came as the results came.

Yesterday was six months to the day since I started this regime. I feel and look healthier and have a whole new wardrobe. I am no adonis with a beefed-up body. I could not say ‘swimmers build’ if I was in the mood to write a personal ad nor would you pass me in the street and notice me. But I am a fitter and leaner me. In some ways I am happier in myself – both for the changes that have occurred and for the feeling that I managed to do it. I lost four stone and so many inches from my waist I won’t even say. I have reached the target I set myself in a much faster time. I am a little spooked that it is six months to the very day!

I do know that this is a way of life now and not something I can – ever – deviate from. I must watch what I eat but it’s becoming instinctive rather than planned. I will continue to exercise and have set myself some goals to ensure I will enjoy it going forward.

As Lance said:

My advice, for those of you unhappy with your current physical situation and hoping for a miracle cure that’ll make you look like the A&F boys or the Conde Nast girls is stop looking for a miracle cure. It doesn’t exist. Eat better food, eat less of it, and get your ass in motion. Move your body in whatever you enjoy. Jog, bike, lift weights, kung fu, yoga, dance, kickbox, soccer, volleyball, swim, whatever, but go out and do it. Ask for help, encourage encouragement, change your life, be happier. [source]

I would like to thank you, my gym buddy, for the help and encouragement throughout the last six months. I think we should go out for a celebratory slap-up meal.

20 Minutes On A TreadMill

My aches tell me I went to the gym last night.

So, it began. Yesterday evening I (by which I mean we) went to the gym for the first time in six months. It wasn’t the awful experience I had been expecting but I have no idea what will happen next. I even managed to recall how to operate some of those awful treadmill machines. Although I went to the gym last year, I only went to the pool, and the machines have been updated since then; they look like space craft control consoles. I kept expecting to hear Kirk behind me shouting about warp factors. While walking/running/cycling in the air-conditioned luxury of a gym I watched one of the many television screens provided for my entertainment. Except, nothing was entertaining. Not even a slightly soaked Westlife in their new video (Obvious, released 23rd February) on Chart Show TV could keep me interested for longer than two minutes. I must have channel-hopped more than I do at home.

Naturally, I ache. I have taken this as a sign that I might have started doing something good to my body rather than believing I have damaged myself in some way. Now I must work on the intake of all those lovely foods which I like to consume – man (or should that be I?) was not born to live on salad leaves alone.

While on the subject of appearance, take the BBC’s smile test and see how you do. In my big-headed way I scored 18 out of 20 which I feel is quite good. And then add your thoughts to the British teeth question at BoiFromTroy!

UPDATE: You know how, when you were at school, there was always somebody bigger, smarter and generally better than you no matter how hard you tried? Well, if you read the comments, you’ll see Jase had 19 out of 20. I must try harder! The question is, did he fail on a fake or a genuine?

Gym Buddy

You might not know it, but you are now my gum buddy and it is your responsibility to get me to exercise. I’ll blame you if we don’t go.

In a fit of self deprecation, I mentioned in my last entry that you don’t care what I say here. So you won’t care if I turn you into an invisible friend (but unlike the version I had as a five-year old who was the excuse for opening the car door while traveling at speed) you, my imaginary friend, have a purpose. You see, you are going to be my gym buddy.

Ha, I hear you cry, you can’t find the time to go to the gym. Your busy social life precludes you from even contemplating exercise. Well, my trusty invisible friend, that is but a weak excuse and I am going to take you with me. I will not tolerate that lazy and unhealthy attitude. You see you are gaining the pounds (don’t tell me you only deal in kilos) and I am going to be the one to make you go and exercise and lose the flab. I won’t listen when you say you’re going to the pub (you should have joined me in giving up drink) and I won’t tolerate you going to sit in the sauna rather than working out. I won’t stand for your nervousness when entering the gym and I won’t listen when you say ‘but everyone’s looking at me’.

No, my invisible friend, we are commencing a journey and it’s for your own good.

And we start next Monday.

UPDATE: The alternative to you becoming my gum buddy was posting a picture of my ever-growing stomach on the site as a motivation. But then I thought I might be visiting you in hospital as you recovered from the shock so you can’t get out of it that way.