Let’s get physical

 Can you believe it’s been almost two years since the doom plague struck? So much for the ‘Roaring Twenties’ we all promised ourselves - it’s been more like the ‘Snoring Twenties’ with the amount of napping I’ve done over the last twenty-four months. It’s almost like I was trying to hibernate through the apocalypse.

That said, I think I’m going to end up as one of those smug, annoying people who, when this whole pandemic-thing is finally over, emerge from their cocoon of agoraphobia and self isolating even when they didn’t actually need to self isolate as a slightly better version of themselves.

And no, don’t think I’m one of *those* people who wrote sixteen novels, founded a charity and started a family during lockdown - I’m not that productive, though I did write a novel - rather, I actually started focusing on getting a bit fitter. Or hench, as I believe the kids say.

I’ll be honest, I spent the first three months of the first lockdown on the sofa with my feet up reading books (which is why my reading lists over the last two years have been insane), but then I got to the point where I looked at myself in the mirror one day and I didn’t approve of the extra chin or the spare tyre (it wasn’t quite that bad, dear reader; this is more of an artistic flourish to set the tone). Let’s not forget I was a chubby kid, and the spectre of that rotund little blonde boy from the 1980s haunts me to this day. So I set about doing something about it.

Obviously being a Bikram yoga teacher my first recourse was, well, yoga. And during the balmy summer months I thoroughly enjoyed a bit of back garden yoga in the sunshine. Plus, in tiny yoga shorts I ended up with a pretty delicious tan. In August of 2020, almost exactly eleven years since I did my first thirty day yoga challenge, I started another one. Thirty days of hot yoga - well, lukewarm yoga, given I couldn’t get the underfloor heating in the living room up to forty degrees. It was a lot of fun, and a little more challenging given I was teaching myself and the inclination is always to zip through the postures I don’t like. But I didn’t, and I did it. Gold star to me and a pat on the bum.

The thing with hot yoga in a not-hot environment is that I found I was focusing on, and building, strength more than flexibility, so at the end of my thirty day challenge I thought fuck it, let’s just try to get buff. I dug out the weights I’d bought when I moved into the first Sparky Towers back in 2006. Back then the intention was to do a weights session every evening and get, well, buff, but the reality was that I used them infrequently and basically left them unloved in the bottom of the wardrobe. But no more! Now they were back in action as I furiously pumped, if not iron, well, certainly tin.

But then I realised I needed to do more, driven slightly by all the fitness stuff on my Apple Watch, which was gently encouraging me to ‘close my rings’ (move, exercise and stand). The move ring was pretty easy to close as I could manually set it at a pretty low number and feel smug when I achieved it; stand was easy too as, y’know, I can stand. But exercise was proving a little trickier.

So I bought a rowing machine.

Back in the dim-distant past when I used to go to a gym, the rowing machine was about the only cardio thing I actually a) liked, and b) saw any benefit from. So I did a little research (basically found the cheapest one) and treated myself. 

I’ll be honest, the first few months I barely used it. It was like a once-a-week-thing. I’d sit on it, get some music blasting, and row for what seemed like an eternity only to find I’d managed a pitiful kilometre and my Apple Watch would say something like ‘well done Tim, you’re so close to closing your exercise ring’ when in fact the only thing I was close to was passing out. But then in January 2021 I went hell for leather. Suddenly I was rowing six kilometres each session, sometimes more. I added long walking workouts to my regime and the weights sessions started feeling … easier? I was building arms like tennis balls in a sports sock and abs like Jesus. 

Then the rowing machine control panel broke. That was annoying, but I got a replacement and somehow using my basic understanding of how to read instructions, managed to install it myself without losing a finger. 

Despite barely rowing in December due to work and the sheer mountain of sugary goodness Sparky Ma threw at me over Christmas, I ended the year feeling fitter and healthier than I have done in a long time. And my Apple Watch stats are bonkers compared to what they were just a little over a year ago.

Look at all those closed rings.

I’ve started 2022 with a renewed focus on fitness. Unfortunately, just eight minutes into a row yesterday morning there was a comical ‘boing’ sound and the rowing machine handles went slack. A swift email to the manufacturer revealed that the ‘coil’ has gone, probably as a result of wear and tear, but possibly because I’m now A MACHINE and my vigorous health regime is to blame. Funny, I thought a coil was something else, but apparently not. Anyway, I’ve got one coming and I’ve got to take the bloody thing apart to install it myself in the next few days. There will be swearing.  

Slack bitch.

In the meantime, I’m left wondering what I can do to keep my momentum going. Weights, obviously. Walking, for sure. Oh, and then a lovely yoga teacher friend asked me last night if I’d ever practiced my own class. Don’t be silly, I replied, I hate the sound of my own voice (surprising, eh?); but she insisted, saying I teach a good one, and sent me a link to a recording of an online class I taught. So, weirdly, I might have a bash at teaching myself.

And then this morning I got an email from Apple offering me a free month of Apple Fitness+. It’s almost like they knew… Anyway, I’ve always fancied trying one of their on-demand dance classes, so maybe now’s the time to turn up the music and throw it down to some phat beats.

 The things I do for cheekbones, arms and abs…

Bringing specsy back

Four years ago - so definitely somewhere in the wilderness years of this blog where all you got was annual book updates - I started getting stingy eyes and headaches. I was spending lots of time at my computer working (not writing my blog, obviously) and I came to the realisation that I should probably have my eyes tested. 

The upshot of it was that I ended up getting Sparky’s First Pair of Glasses. Well, strictly speaking it was Sparky’s First Two Pairs of Glasses, because it was on a buy one pair get another free deal. The glasses I got were black framed, kinda like Ray-Bans sorta thing, and no you’re not getting a picture of me wearing them. That’s what Instagram is for. Weirdly, my prescription was so slight that the optician, or optometrist or whatever they call themselves these days (eye wizard?!), said if my right eye was out the same minuscule amount as my left they would’ve just turned me around, patted me on the bum and gently scooted me out the door without even bothering to give me glasses. Or maybe they would’ve given me frames without any lenses?

“Do I need to wear them all the time?” I asked excitedly, anticipating an uptick in both my sexiness and assumed intelligence levels.

“No!” Shrieked the eye wizard. “Just when you’re using your computer.”

Anyway, two years ago, just after Christmas and before the doom plague ruined all our lives, I started getting stingy eyes again. By now living in Cardiff, I went to another eye wizard here and got my eyes tested again (once more being subjected to the insufferable puff of air in the eyeballs from that infernal device that does who knows what) only to be told that I didn’t actually need any new glasses and the stinging in my eyes was probably just, y’know, Cardiff weather.

“But I wanted new frames,” I whined.

“You can have some new frames,” said the eye wizard, this time with a gentle Welsh lilt to their voice, “but they’ll cost you.”

Glancing briefly at the frames I liked and wincing at the price sticker (turns out I could see that no problem) I decided I didn’t need new frames, turned myself around, patted myself on the bum and scooted out the door.

Let’s fast forward to the present day and my latest visit to the eye wizard today. Strutting in the door all cocky like, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need new glasses this time around. Seven puffs of air from the infernal device (I blinked once in anticipation, dammit) and a faultless reading of the eye test chart later, I’m told that actually, yes, I do need new ones. That was a surprise. But, cost aside, one I’m not altogether unhappy about. I like my current glasses, but I’m also a fickle follower of fashion and I want this season’s sharpest new look. 

The eye wizard subsequently led me downstairs to Melissa, who would help me find the perfect new frames for my cheeky little face. Sadly for Melissa, she was kinda redundant, because I’d already looked online and found the ones I liked; all she had to do was locate them on the rack.

So the ones I’m going for are slightly rounded frames. To be honest, I considered something similar four years ago as my free second pair, but the moment I put them on the woman helping me choose them looked at me, tilted her head and said “awww, you look like Harry Potter.” Reader, I HURLED them back onto the rack.

Four years later, Melissa did not say I looked like Harry Potter. All Melissa contributed came when I asked her what the difference was between the pair I’d already chosen and another pair that was similar.

“One has a blue bit on the arms, and the other has a red bit.” Thank you Melissa.

So, £175 lighter, this time next week I’ll have new glasses. As an aside, my car (affectionately known as The Bug - yes, I bought a new motor during blog downtime back in 2017) was in for an MOT today. It sailed through, which just goes to show that I’m falling apart quicker than a car with 37,000 miles on the clock.

Anyway, just before leaving, I asked the inevitable, with a hopeful tone in my voice:

“Do I have to wear these all the time?”

“No,” said the eye wizard. “Just when you’re working at the computer. Or looking at your phone for extended periods” - dammit she knows me too well - “Oh, and when you’re reading. To be honest, you’re prescription is a bit stronger than you’re used to so I’d actually suggest you don’t try standing up or walking while you’re wearing them as you won’t be used to it.”

So there we have it: a week today I’ll look significantly sexier and more intelligent while working or reading, but the facade will drop spectacularly if I try to move.

Story of my life, huh?