Fit
My neck still hurts and I feel generally unfit today. This probably isn’t my body playing an elaborate illusion on me, I most likely am genuinely unfit. It’s not like I’ve got high expectations of how fit I need to be. Jog for the bus fit. Carry the shopping home fit. Clean up after the cat fit. That’s about all I need. I don’t plan to scale any buildings any time soon, so what’s the point in achieving the physical condition required to do so.
But, I think I have dropped beneath the level of fitness even I am comfortable with. I think it happened an hour ago when I had to hold down CTRL and scroll at the same time, and unexpectedly let out a wheeze. That’s not a good sign. So, I have a new year’s resolution coming at me from leftfield. Get fit. Or to be exact, get a little bit fitter. Not by much, just enough so that I can browse the internet without letting out noises.
So, exercise options. Join a gym. Fuck that. Just, no. I hate gyms. I hate the people in gyms. I hate the funny words people give the machines that make you sweat in gyms. It’s a non-starter. The only way I want to spend time watching men in lycra sweat is if they are frantically zig-zagging down a back-street, trying to get out of my cross-hairs.
I could join a football team. Genuinely an option. I had quite a pedigree as a Sunday league footballer back in the day when I could hold down a left-back berth and my breakfast. But I fear that would mean having to join a gym and get fit first.
People say that doing exercise makes you feel great afterwards. Like a drug, endorphins or something. And I tell you what they are spot on. I went for a jog a year and a half ago and I am still on a bit of a high. Phew-wee that is still making me feel good after all these months. I might just have a Snickers as a little, belated reward.
