Well, its just about holding off from peeing down so technically I believe this is still summer. Am just back from the first of the Asian exodi (my guess at the plural of exodus, to keep you pedants happy) – where it also honked down with monster rain, ensuring every one of the 15 oh-so-amusing-and-original Asian peeps in my workshop could gleefully tell me that I'd 'brought the rain from England with me'…Oh, ho ho ho, my little chopstick-wielding, lunch-in-a-plastic-box friends.
But I did at least manage to attach my chops to the tiptop best delicacy of Singapore – chilli crab – and eat it with the full splendour of a paper bib tied round my neck. God only knows how much I still niffed of defunct crustacea in the BA Club cabin on the way home just a few hours later that night….
Anyway – am feeling fairly smug as H has finally decided to 'get on it' in terms of getting fit/losing weight, and I managed to tear my sorry, lardy ass off the sofa to cycle with him to Battersea Park last night (no mean feat in itself) to join his fitness bunny chum (Baby Adam from Le Touquet, for any Puritans reading this, and no, not the Adam I 'tickled' on tour a few years ago, for anyone else with a very long memory!)
Found myself ludicrously on a red running track, doing shuttle sprints and puffing like a complete 40-something, middle-aged-crisis pudding, amid a sea of greyhound-like 'real' athletes, You know, the men with those awful high cut flappy shorts in terrible patterns, and teenage girls with legs up to their pre-pubescent armpits. Sigh. I HAVE BECOME THE PERSON I USED TO TAKE THE PISS OUT OF WHEN I WAS YOUNG AND (VAGUELY) FIT.
This, I believe, is what's known as 'things coming back to bite you on the arse' – or just being no longer on the hill, but well over it.. When most of your body heads south and only the arrow on the scales heads determinedly past east to a very firm westward point.
And when the lean, mean running machine of a very cool black dude in skintight gear showing off every pec and the lunchbox to the full, actually makes you go 'wow'. Audibly. With jaw hanging slack.To the point that another runner looked up and laughed at my evident middle aged housewife-ness (and I can't even quite lay claim to that dubious status!)
So – today we battled on and hoofed the bikes around Wimbledon Common. Only to be told off by some Park harridan for having the temerity to think that a huge Common might actually be for our obese population to benefit from in terms of exercise… NO, NO my friends - how foolish. It is apparently the sole reserve of Wimbledon twats and their ridiculously tiny dog-rats, or over-privileged horses. Feet, paws and hooves prevail, and nary a hyrbid bike tyre shall be seen.
We bike deviants are solely permitted to cycle down the side of the A3 and on 3 bits of the perimeter, for fear that the ginormous space might be overtaken by our lycra clad non-god/goddess-selves. Stick that up yer SW19 poncy pipe and smoke it. Now I just need to get quick enough to be able to cycle off giving them the finger.. a poor plan right now as I suspect anyone with a 3-legged dalmatian could probably catch up with me.
And the fitness fest continues tomorrow – we have snaffled a freebie day at some local gym so our taking our wares – and my sore back, already – for a spot of exercise there. THANK GOD I am flying to Vietnam on Sunday – almost seems like a bonus, as at this rate, H is going to cripple me! Shhhh, don't tell him I said that…
Your oh-so-soon-to-be-thin (maybe) chum, Sx