One’s body is one’s temple
Look at this, three days of blogging in a row. Something is clearly wrong here…
Fair warning – this is a post that has precious little to do with writing, at least directly, and is largely introspective. Don’t like it, don’t read it.
So, I’m overweight. There’s a hell of a thing to put at the top of a post, but there it is. I am technically somewhere in the low/middle of the overweight band on that ‘height to weight’ chart, but in more practical terms I have what might be termed a spare tire, paunch, or small beer belly (and yes, the humorous connotations of me having a beer belly have shockingly been pointed out before). Otherwise, I like to think I’m relatively okay, though I carry more squidge on my face than I’d like.
I’m pretty sure that lurking somewhere under the flab is a fit, healthy, and maybe even leanly muscled guy. I mean, I’m 25, there’s no reason why there shouldn’t be.
I’ve never been hugely active – I’m something of a dilettante when it comes to sports and regular exercise – but it was definitely heading off to university that saw the end of my youthful ability to metabolise portions that would feed a frigate’s crew, and signalled the slow expansion of my waistline. The availability of (pretty poor) cooked breakfasts every morning while I was in halls coupled with the volume of ale – any local ale is my poison of choice, those who are keeping notes – I poured down my throat were bound to make itself felt.
So, finally, I am endeavouring to turn this around.
I’ve tried work-out kicks before, mainly joining the work gym, but it never really took (especially when it meant adding 90 minutes on to the end of my work day, delaying getting home to my girlfriend and writing duties). So, for now, I’m targeting the diet.
I actually eat pretty healthily, on the whole – there is a lot of fish and suchlike on the plate, although maybe the takeaway companies of Canterbury see my front door a bit too often – but the portions are the killer. So, with the aid of the (free) MyFitnessPal Calorie Counter app, I’ve started monitoring what I stick into this abused temple of mine. The results, so far, have been quite heartening. At present I’m building up a baseline so I can modify my behaviour accordingly, and its going pretty well. The process of recording things is pretty simple – the app is very good, I would definitely recommend it to anyone else who wants to watch what they eat – although I did feel a little bit anal last night, carefully tapping in the number of flapjack squares I’d gobbled down in the course of an evening.
I’m also giving serious thought to shelling out for a rowing machine for home in a few months. I don’t want to join a gym again for the reasons stated above, but I think 30 mins on a rowing machine (my exercise of choice if there isn’t a swimming pool around) a day should help burn off the occasional snack binge and make me feel much better.
I realise that this post isn’t really going anywhere, so I guess I should wrap up. Apologies for those not interested in this sort of thing, but it does say up top you don’t have to read it. What this has to do with writing is somewhat tangential, although Chuck Wendig is regularly banging on about the importance of keeping one’s writing tools (ie, one’s brain and one’s body) unclogged with crap, and his word is law as far as I’m concerned. As writers, it’s very easy to slip into bad habits, and I would like to try and make some good ones while I’m still in my prime so I don’t pay for it in years to come.
I promise that tomorrow (or whenever next I blog) will be more on-topic. For now, hope you are enjoying the new site and the new service. See y’all soon.