Progress continues

Back to back to back gym days and it’s only Tuesday. [crowd gasps]
I’m getting the car serviced tomorrow, so I won’t make it four in a row, but hey, the thought was there. I’ll come home and walk the dog instead. Something a bit more gentle with a side-order of snorfing.

Finally, the excesses of the festive season are falling away, and my knee is beginning to recover from the (still bewilderingly) rock hard sand on Struisbaai beach. I’m starting to put a bit of stress and strain on it – a short run here or a quick row there – and I can still walk.

So that’s good.

That said, I’m still giving myself another few weeks before I even consider approaching the health insurance fitness assessment. Let’s at least give me a chance of passing the test and being allowed to live for another year.

Onward and upward.

The battle continues…

The battle between the allied forces of my diet and my exercise, and my love of beer continues to rage on around my midriff. On the plus side, I’ve been exercising pretty regularly: just about every day to some degree.
Sadly, the high temperatures and my lack of will power has led to some erosion of the benefits of that exercise, in that I have enjoyed some (or more) beers next to the pool, with dinner or – in one particular case – next to the pool with dinner over the last week or so.

It could be worse. I could be drinking and not exercising. Or, if you choose to look at it another way, exercising and not drinking. And so while I’m not necessarily getting all that I could be from my runs or gym visits, I’m happy enough. Everything in moderation. Including, it would seem, progress on my fitness.

But there is progress. A few centimetres here, a couple of kilos there. I’m getting there (slowly). And the great news is that the bits that were the most hurty before Christmas are not the bits that are (temporarily) hurting after my exertions.

This morning’s 5km was my fastest of the year: indeed, looking back, (surprisingly) my fastest since 1st September last year. Evidently, things are on the mend.

Even if I won’t be able to stand up once I finish writing this post.

Ja. I’m a bit stuck. Could someone get me a beer, please?

Hello? Anyone?

Back to it

I hurt my back at the end of November and – because I’m old now – it’s taken a long time to get right. As a measure of just how long, I don’t think it’s quite there yet. But nearly.

Still, with that as a reason, and my Dad’s visit as a handy excuse, I’ve managed to avoid most forms of strenuous exercise for almost 8 weeks now. Add to that all the calamari, beer and burgers I’ve been enjoying during his stay, and well… there’s some work to do.

I have a couple of inches to lose and a couple of kilos that they can take with them.

This morning (with my Dad still only over Algeria), I went for a slow, hot run. The speed was simply because I couldn’t go any faster, the heat was because it was a hot day.

It didn’t break any records, save for perhaps being the most overdue run in recent history. The back seems to have held up and there have been no immediate after-effects save for quite a lot of tiredness.

Watch this space for more updates as the weight comes off and the fitness increases. Or not, if I decide not to exercise or not to blog about it.

Health matters

Yes, it does. And last week was a rather unhealthy week for me. I’m still paying the penalty. After eating too much, drinking too much, not getting enough sleep, and doing not really quite enough vigorous exercise, I feel fairly ropey. My body – often described as a temple* – isn’t looking or feeling great.

This weekend was a good example. Saturday started with a lovely 7km walk on the mountain with friends (light not great for ‘togging, but still):

…but that’s pretty much where the good stuff (health-wise, at least) ended.

I lazed in front of the miserable football all afternoon, before heading out for cheese and wine and wine and wine in the evening. Great fun, but quite winey, with hindsight. We staggered in after 1am [audience: woooah!] and then were up early again for a birthday party in town.

Sunday afternoon came and went, with absolutely no impetus to move, let alone exercise. On the plus side, there was no desire to drink either.


Anyway, this week is going to be different. Healthier food, alcohol free, and plenty of exercise, as I get myself back on track. No, it’s not a “detox”: my body was doing quite nicely (rather too well, some might argue) at keeping me detoxed.

No, this is going to be a week of moderation: of earlier nights and a reasonable amount of exercise. I’ve already smashed some gym, boet, and I’m feeling ready to go.


Right after this nap.



* originally admired for its beauty, but then ransacked and razed by marauding forces in the early medieval period. 

Death by run

I was going to have a nice, gentle, controlled session at the gym this morning, but then I was asked to sort out an ailing cellphone and suddenly there wasn’t really time to get there before the parking (always an issue on Friday) would have been totally filled.

Still, lovely morning, so why not take advantage of the spring sunshine and go for a little 5km jog around the block(s)?

Well, having done a little 5km jog around the block(s), I now have a number of reasons. And the spring sunshine is one of them.

When I left home, it was 14°C. When I got back, it was 27°C.

I wasn’t gone that long. It just got very warm, very quickly.

I have no issue with running in the heat, as long as I know that I’m going to be running in the heat. (There are limits.)
I was not expecting this heat. This heat did not help.

Next up, football on Tuesday night. The most energetic game I have played in a long, long while. And while I had a lovely time, and we won a tight, frantic, occasionally bad-tempered game, sweet mother of beagles, I’ve been hurting since then. Upon awakening this morning, I thought I’d moved on and recovered, but within 500m of starting my run, it became clear that I was mistaken. Things were still quite broken. A sensible individual would have sensibly admitted defeat and returned home, sensibly.

I kept going.

And then there was Forest Drive, 650m of road during which you gain (or lose, I suppose, but not in this case) over 100m of altitude. A challenge on any day. It seemed longer, steeper, higher today. That’s probably because I donated blood on Wednesday morning. Usually, I’m back up to speed within 24 hours. That clearly hasn’t happened this time. There was a dramatic shortage of oxygen, not helped by the increasing heat (see above).

A sensible individual would have… ah, never mind.

I finished a hideous five point something with a 6:28 average. Dreadful, and I feel no better for it.

I will take these things into consideration next time, not least delaying repairing cellphones until after I have safely – and gently – gymed.

I’m physically damaged and I need to go to bed.