Category Archives: Exercise

A free-wheeling but badly balanced tale of exercise, weight loss and loss of dignity.

All Downhill.

I’d been parked up slothfully on the couch
Hands comfortably folded on my spreading pouch
When my wife’s gaze went from the athletes on the telly
And settled reprovingly on my burgeoning belly.

So, I lay down my bottle of Bud and bowl of Lays
Vowing I would put behind me my couch potato days,
Out back in the garage lay my old bike, forgotten and dusty,
Abandoned, muddy, bespattered, cruddy and crusty.

Years ago I had enjoyed pedaling hell for leather
Braving life, limb and hypothermia whatever the weather,
Then I’d found myself out of luck, control and flying off course,
Now, after a decade of decadence, I was remountin’ the horse.

For hours I cleaned, checked, fussed and fettled,
Then back into the saddle I comfortably resettled,
The tyres gave a hiss of disapproval and began to deflate;
Time to pump the perishing tyres and lose some weight.

My old lycra shorts also fit a bit tighter
Than when I’d been fit and tons lighter,
But it takes a lot of guts to tighten and cinch
Pants that can fit, butt at a pinch.

Off I wobbled towards my happy trails,
Hoping to stay on the path, not go off the rails,
From atop the mount the way narrowly wound;
It’s impact on me would be most profound.

I looked down that slippery slope,
Offered up a prayer and the earnest hope
That the older wiser me had learnt from my mistakes-
Then simply prayer when I found I lacked brakes.

I found myself taking a high flying jump,
I scarcely missed landing on a sturdy stump,
How fortuitous my newfound Lord heard my heartfelt call
And had a handy bush of thorns to break my fall.

But it was not a happy landing,
I was left incapable of standing,
For a big boy’s mountain bike needs a stout brace,
And that brace struck me in my happy place.

Now I’m on my comfy sofa, laid back,
Hand uncomfortably cupping an ice pack,
Till I can stand and recover from the bars low blow,
No more a ‘mountain biking will this guy go.

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Weight and job loss plan, Part Two. Stepping up or stepping out, job prospect wise?

Fit By Christmas.

From late December on Santa has time to kill,
To kick back, crack open some cold ones, sit and chill,
To chomp Chitos, uncinch his belt, let his guts spill.

So Santa presented himself with a treadmill-
For a man who won’t be seen to be over the hill
He’s making hard work of staying precisely still.

Santa stepped up to his work with a will,
A smile wreathing his jolly old face until…
Santa’s replacement has big boots to fill.