Thursday, 10 May 2012

The Dieting Man: A More Concise Update

Well, I posted on Tuesday night that I had lost four pounds. I was extremely pleased with this new development, but my pleasure was dampened by Wife's words: "How is that possible?!"

Hmm. Not exactly the vote of confidence that I was looking for. But, you know, she has a point.  Let me tell you a bit about what's happened since my last post:

I last blogged on Wednesday 2nd May. I said that I was going to the gym that afternoon.  Here's what went down: I psyched myself up for the gym. I jumped into the van, and headed for Silksworth Community Pool and Tennis Centre. I was planing on going down the 'Casual User' route - I wasn't prepared, at this point, to sign myself up to a £30+ a month membership, when my staying power is what it is - practically zero.

The girl at the desk was really useful, and got me to fill in some details. There was no pressure to go down the Annual Membership route, just pleasant advice that if I use the gym frequently, it would make sense to do that. But no, I was quite happy to pay my £4.60 per session fee.  But first of all, I had to pay £15 for my Life Card. It's kinda like a membership card for the gym. Coolio, I can live with that. Oh, and £15 for the Gym Induction. Ah. Okay. OH, and £8.50 for the Technogym key. This is a device that has your workout programmed into it - you get onto a machine, plug your key in, it says "Hi NAME, you're on here for 20 minutes" or whatever you need to do. When you finish your workout, you are then told what is next in your routine. Nice.  So at this point, I had spent £38.50 and not yet broken a sweat.  Then I get asked, "So, is saturday at 10am any good for your induction?" Ah. The penny drops. The induction isn't going to happen today. Well that sucks. Incidentally, Saturday is no good, nor is Sunday, nor the following Wednesday - so in the end, I get transferred to Houghton Community Sports Centre, where I get booked in for an induction at 3pm the following day. I can live with that.

So I go home and contemplate my options. Well, my lawn is utterly waterlogged, and I had just had delivered a Lawn Aerator, which I had purchased from eBay - might as well give that a go. So I unleash Dog into the garden, don some wellies, and get out in the garden. My word, gardening is hard work. By the time I had been up and down the garden three times, plunging in the aerator and removing clogs of waterlogged soil, I was drenched in sweat. Probably more labour intensive than my induction was going to be... Wife came home, we had food, blah blah blah I can't remember the details...

Thursday rolls around. I'm sorting someone's PC at 12.30, and when I finish, I head to ASDA for some new gym pants. From there, I head to the gym and have my induction. Unfortunately, it only lasts half an hour, which isn't great, but I'm introduced to all the machines, and a personal workout plan is drawn up for me. 

Basically, I'll be on the machines for 59 minutes, doing various activities:
Cycling on a machine with a back rest
on an arm exercising machine

It feels good to be in the gym exercising, and I feel that the staff are helpful and knowledgeable. I'm keen.

The rest of the day is uneventful.

Friday I play pool at Cheemas in Sunderland with my Brother-in-Law. I get slaughtered. Nevermind, it's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts, right? Yeah, that's what all the losers say. Whatever.

Saturday, we visit friends because it is there anniversary, and we drop off what they describe as a 'legend card and gifts'. Coolio, glad you liked it...  We then take Dog for a lengthy walk, as we're going out for the night.

Sunday... Sunday is a blur between reality and imagination. We have a pretty set routine for a Sunday, but that was totally knocked off course due to a number of unrelated but interfering matters. Let's not discuss.

Instead, let's move on to Monday. Monday was a Bank Holiday - I love them. So a gang of us traipse up to Druridge Bay, up on the North East coast, and enjoy a long amble along the coast. It's cold, it's windy, and I'm pushing a pushchair (not mine!) for a considerable distance. I consider that an intense workout.

The next day, Tuesday, I feel ill. I wake up thinking that I'm going to hurl, and I've got burning in my chest. It's not good, but I go to work, chugging plenty of water all day. I get home. I'm wrecked, exhausted, and still feel cak. I lie down on the sofa. The burning comes back. Wife is worried. Wife tells Mother-in-Law, who says that feeling sick and burning in chest is heart related. Mother-in-law is a paranoid worrier who consults medical dictionaries and wonders why people she knows haven't died of the condition that she diagnoses. I say don't worry about it, and carry on.

Wednesday rolls around. I plan to go to the gym after work, but we are going to the cinema on the night. It's going to be tight, too tight to fit everything in. Instead of going to the gym, I get home, and take Dog for a walk. We go to the pics and watch Avengers Assemble. It's better second time round than first time. Pure awesomeness. I love Hulk.

And now here we area. Thursday. It's lunchtime. I've just finished my Large Quarter Pounder With Cheese Meal from McDonalds. Drink? Large coke. Anything else? Yeah, go on then, throw in a Cookie Dough McFlurry.

And here I am, a full McD's meal sitting in my stomach, updating my blog. In which I proclaim to be on a diet. What a hypocrite!

Anyway, I'm going to the gym after work, and I'll see how busy it is. I may have to arrange to go at another time, but I'm going to be going at least once a week.

I am The Dieting Man.

1 comment:

Abuzar said...

Whats your weight now?

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