Festive Fitness

There are many, many things I want to put down in my blog at the moment so I anticipate a flurry of postings...I hope.
For now I'll just stick with what's at the front of my mind - most recent events. Sorry to say it's not something deeply interesting, no scandal or anything like that...rather about the state of my current fitness...

Those of you who know me in the real world will know that the last year or so has seen me return to who I was a long time ago.
Hang on.

*Tangent alert*

Aren't we always who we were, or who we are? Why does this happen? I seem to do this a lot - I'm my own person, independent, free-spirited, strong-willed and then I get involved with a man and over time the very person I was becomes the person that maybe he wanted, or not, but anyway, not 'me' anymore. Generally this coincides with me losing confidence, putting on weight and generally losing my way and losing me. The result is that I end the relationship, lose weight and find me again. I've done this all my life it seems. Perhaps now that I'm in my late thirties I just might be able to hang onto myself and not lose it again in the face of a relationship.

I always feel that I return to myself but is it 'me', the Old Me, or is it, as I suspect, a New Improved Me. I hope so because if by evolving my personality and in effect 'growing' (bit too new agey and touchy feely for me I suspect)then maybe I can be just like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day and eventually beat the constant round of self-fulfilling prophesies or maybe that's destinies....

Anyway, back to the original idea for this post....


So, my general fitness has pretty much returned to what it was some years ago. Oh god, it feels like years ago that I used to go to aerobics classes twice a week (actually, can you still go to aerobics classes? Or have they been superseded by Spinning classes or Boxercise or something else more fashionable?). I think I was doing aerobics twice a week (and clubbing all weekend) about fifteen years ago, so it was years ago. And around eleven years ago I used to cycle for miles - in fact I used to cycle over to a friend's parents' house some 6 or 7 miles away from me and then swim for a few hours (yes, that's why we went to the parents' house, POOL!). And I took part in a charity bike ride - borrowed a friend's road bike and was amazed at how fast and light it was compared to my lumpy ATB - thin tires are lovely when you're zipping down a main road.

Well, I've just come back from a very short bike ride - I've just checked it out on Google Maps and discovered I cycled the long distance of TWO whole British miles! To be fair to myself (read *excuse*) my bike does need more air in the tyres and it's a rather hilly so that's why I didn't go too far.

Okay, the real reason?

I got one mile up the road and thought I was going to be sick - I think the mint chocolates I ate before I left the house might have had something to do with it. So I turned around and came back - the return journey was no problem - all gently downhill except one short steep bit.

Now I climb maybe four times a week and have done pretty much since June, about three hours at a go. I do yoga regularly, I think nothing of taking long walks - about eight miles would be a fair sized one. So why on earth did a mile long cycle ride nearly kill me?

Why?

Because I'm unfit and I've eaten too much chocolate over the last couple of days.

Ah well, never mind, that's the festive season for you.

Now I'm going to take a shower, have a glass or two of mulled wine, some lovely baked ham, sausage rolls and maybe a slice of Christmas cake AND chocolate yule log.

To hell with diets, I'll simply get back on the bike again tomorrow and try to kill myself again.

Starting Early.....

I know, I know, I said I’d start this on January 1^st….but I also know that some of you were getting bored waiting….so here’s a belated Christmas present to you all….a bit about my Christmas day…with the in-laws…at the farm…..

Full house over in the farm house…Great Aunt Bessie, Great Uncle Stephen, Grandparents, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, their three offspring, and the four of us – Mr Chickenlady, me and our two boy chicks. Food all eaten and we have returned to the warmth of the sitting room, Great Uncle Stephen and Granddad bagging the seats closest to the open fire where they can ‘rest’ with their large brandies. Sister-in-law and I make short work of the damson brandy (tasted a little like Benylin). Mr Chickenlady and his brother go off down the cellar to find more beer…Granny and Great Aunt Bessie sit with the rest of us watching the five grandchildren attempt to build a nuclear warhead out of lego. Until that is, the eldest grandchild decides to show me his best present…. “Look Aunty, I got an air rifle!”

I do my best impressed face and attempt to make the right noises – I know very little about guns and intend to keep it that way – only once or twice have I had a go at clay pigeon shooting; the first time I stood in the snow watching Mr Chickenlady and all his mates have a go in one of the fields until I got so bored of them missing and laughing like loons (many cans of beer had preceded the shoot) that I demanded I have a go – no one believed that a woman could shoot straight…my first attempt and I hit the clay dead centre…sadly it was entirely beginner’s luck, I’m not a crack shot, but a crap shot….

Anyway, back to the nephew and his new air rifle….he starts to show me all the features – from what I can see this consists of trigger, sight and barrel. He impresses me as he breaks the gun (see I even learnt some of terminology…for those of you not in the Huntin’, Shootin’ and Fishin’ brigade, breaking the gun is when you pull down the barrel and it opens above the trigger so you can insert cartridges) and I keep saying, “Goodness, that’s impressive” and so on. Nephew then hands the gun over to me and says, “Try it, just try holding it and aiming, it’s great! And safe – there are no cartridges in it” so I do….I absent-mindedly look down the sights and don’t notice that I’m pointing it at the sleeping form of Great Uncle Simon….and before I realise what I’m doing….I’ve pulled the trigger….Has anyone told you that air rifles still make a bloody big bang even without a cartridge in it…that’s why they’re called Air rifles…compressed air that makes the cartridge fire …

Great Uncle Simon had to go to bed for the rest of the day to allow his nerves to recover and I’m not allowed anywhere near guns or twelve year old boys again.