Having been a very fit 20 year old in the Special Boat Squadron, a Rugby player, a Rower, a dedicated Ocean Racer, a Rock Climber and a serious Dinghy sailor; then to a fairly fit 40 year old outdoor pursuit instructor at an Outward Bound School, naturally in my dotage when my fit had turned to fat – I had a dream. . . . . .
My local council having spent my council tax on a new swimming pool with a rather nice fitness centre and seeking to tempt the grey voters, came up with a large subsidy for wrinkleys and crinkleys annual membership. I had a dream. . . . . . .
I told myself; I am going to once again be that lean, green, fighting machine that I once was. . . . . For six months my 45 year old brain dragged my fat septuagenarian body to the gym. I had a dream . . . . . .
I built up to a circuit of 10 minutes cycling, 10 minutes treadmill, 10 minutes cross trainer and 10 minutes on the rowing machine. I had a dream . . . . .
I had a quiet sit down in the changing room before showering and dressing. Then as I walked down the stairs the receptionist asked “Are you all right Sir?” in a concerned voice. My dreams have been shattered. My unsympathetic wife, when I arrived home and related the tale muttered “Silly Old Fool!” Do you think that she could have been referring to the receptionist?
Well I thumped my heart to get it going again and thought that I would show my wife a lesson. I call her Pollyanna because she will never criticise anyone (except me of course) and I persevered and continued with my dream . . . . . . Until two years ago; by which time I had the body of an overweight sexagenarian (well I thought so) and felt that I should join a more hard-core fitness centre for serious workouts.
Hard-core has nothing to do with explicit sex but the other definition of uncompromising and committed. It also unfortunately means very expensive. Weight loss is also very, very expensive when none of one’s clothes fit any more and a whole new wardrobe has to be purchased.
That has really taught Pollyanna a lesson for daring to criticise her fat, unfit and very elderly husband. I am now totally hooked on my gym; I get up at 6.30am to work out for at least two hours every weekday. I continue to spend our children’s inheritance on clothing that fits me.
This morning when I awoke under a very heavy duvet and had to brush the snow off the car I’m sure that I heard Pollyanna mutter “you must be mad” – or it may have been “there’s no fool like an old fool! I suppose she may have a point but . . . . . . I still have a dream . . . . . Hope it’s not a nightmare!!!
