Richard Wright

Last year, I embarked on both getting fit, and getting very unfit.  The fitness bit lasted until around about June, and was going quite well.  Alas, it hit the brick wall of packing up, getting married, and emigrating to India, followed by prolonged stress while we worked out whether Eva’s schooling was going to let us stay here.  During this period, I embarked on becoming very unfit indeed.

It was, I’m delighted to tell you, a resounding success.  My grandad is fitter than me, and, not to be too crass about it, he’s been dead longer than I’ve been a grown-up.

However, with Eva in school since Monday, and settling in pretty well all things considered, all that stress has vanished.  Suddenly, I feel quite comfortable here, and ready to get on with the new normality.  This involves getting back on the fitness train.

Having had a couple of practise work-outs this week, running about a bit and doing some light upper body stuff, I can confirm that I’m right back to where I started last year.  Possibly further back, if that’s possible.  Truthfully, I may not even be on the train.  I may in fact be on the fitness donkey, and it’s slow, bumpy, and bloody painful.

I feel like a walking* bruise.

Still, at least I remember from last time that this is a good thing, and means things have started.  It’s even a satisfying sort of pain, while also being incredibly inconvenient in almost all circumstances.  Roll on next month, when I should be working out how far I can ‘push it’, rather than worrying whether I’m going to incapacitate myself even ‘leaning against it’.

* Or possibly a hobbling one.

Okay, tick tock, my last month living in the United Kingdom has begun. My life is a series of countdowns right now. Countdown to the day I finish my current day job (five days, seventeen hours, thirty-five minutes), countdown to the wedding (fifteen days, thirteen hours, four minutes), countdown to getting on that plane (twenty-nine days, thirteen hours, eighteen minutes). It’s exhausting, keeping up.

Mind you, there were a lot more countdowns a month or so ago. They’re vanishing fast.

Today we posted the wedding banns (well, Kirsty did, through insane traffic, on her way to work), which is basically giving the official confirmation to the registrars of the date, time, witnesses, etc. Cutting it a bit fine, to be honest, as tomorrow’s the last day we could legally have done so if we wanted to keep the 17th as the date, but that is how we roll, in da lingo of da yoof. We’re also sorting out the final guest list, as the final yeas and nays come in. Some inevitable disappointments, though all with good reason. I’ll miss my brother and his mob the most, I think, but such is life. Plenty of fine people are still attending though, and I’m starting to really look forward to it.

That said, last night I woke every couple of hours, all night. I think it was anxiety. That almost never happens to me. Natural enough, I suppose. I keep being told that moving house, getting married, and changing your job are the three most stressful things you can put yourself through, and Kirsty and I have timed it all for the same week. Hey ho.

All the more important that I pick up some exercise again, now that Kirsty’s back and our routine is getting back to nearly normal. A four mile run tonight, so that should see me sleep some. Hopefully.

I leave you with the shocking news headline UK teenage girls “worst drunks”, which strikes me as entirely incorrect. Surely, on the available evidence, they’re actually the best drunks?

I can’t tell you how good it is to be running properly again, on roads and tracks, off bloody treadmills. Treadmills aren’t running at all (since when does the ground do half of the work for you?), and while I did do some exercise while I was away, it was nowhere the near the level I was doing at home. After a week feeling run down, I’ve perked up a bit, and it’s back to the old regime (though I’ve put myself back a couple of weeks to account for any backsliding). Soon be caught up with where I was, and it’s a real pleasure getting back to it.

What else? We’ve had estate agents round, finally, and were happy to discover that we may have undervalued the house a little while planning the sale. Not by much, but anything is a bonus. It will be going on the market soon, so the real test is whether it sells. Anybody looking for a starter home in Glasgow? With oak floors? And an en suite? Let me know.

Also, I booked the first round of vaccinations. Begone, needle fear! If my six year old girl can do it, then so can I!

Okay, four weeks into the army training programme, and the second fitness test is done. The pitiful results of my pre-training one can be found here, but I’ll compare and contrast below.

Press-up max test: As many press ups as you can in two minutes exactly. I struggled to thirty-six, which puts me squarely into the ‘average’ category for a thirty-four year old. Four weeks ago, I dreamed of being average, with a pitiful sixteen. In terms of progress, you can’t argue with that.

Sit-up max test: As above, with sit-ups. I hit forty-eight, a slight improvement on last time’s forty-one. This boosts me out of ‘average’, into ‘good’. Can’t say that makes me unhappy either.

1.5 mile run test: Run it as fast as you can. Eleven minutes and forty-five seconds, compared to last month’s thirteen twenty-seven. Bumps me from poor to average. Given that I’ve run for quite a while now, on and off, I should be doing better with this. I think the problem is that I normally pace myself, because I want to see how long and far I can run. Going a short distance very fast is different, and a real struggle (to a degree of feeling faint and sick when I stop, that distance running just doesn’t do to me). Mustn’t over think it though, as there’s improvement, and I broke the eight minute mile. Clearly though, I need to build some speed training into my week if I’m going to get any better.

Sit and Reach test: Sit with your feet against the wall, legs straight, and slide your fingers along the floor next to your leg to find the furthest point you can reach and hold for three seconds. Last month I stalled at eleven inches. Today I got to nine and a half. I’m bendier. Erm. Hooray.

Body Mass Index: Last month, 27. This month, having dropped eight pounds (just over three and a half kilos, apparently), 26.03. Still overweight, but pointed in the right direction.

Waist to Hip ratio: Your waist divided by your hips. Allegedly more accurate than BMI, because it isn’t fooled by muscle weighing more than fat. I’ve about an inch and a half from my waist, and a half inch from my hips. I come in at 0.94, down from 0.97 last time. The line to get the right side of is 0.9, so again, all heading the right way.

Results speak for themselves, so consider me committed to the next twelve weeks. It’s hard work, which you’d expect from something advertised as put together by the British Army, but for the most part I’m enjoying it. And hey, I’m officially no longer ‘poor’ at anything. The army says so. If you have a problem with that, take it up with them.

There is sunshine. Summer must be here. About bloody time, too. In about five months, when I live in India, I’ll probably be longing for a bit of honest chill in the air. Hey, I’m English. I complain about stuff. It’s our way.

Speaking of India, things are slowly getting organised, at least in terms of the mechanics of getting there. Most reassuring so far, is my daughter getting a place at one of the private international schools there. A week or so ago she had to sit an online assessment, and to be honest, it was a bit of a struggle. Their curriculum is quite a bit ahead of the Scottish one, and as she was being tested to their standard, she was facing quite a few things that she’s never encountered in class before. I suspect the school encounters this quite a bit though, and an offer came through a couple of days later, along with a checklist of things they’d like us to cover with her over the summer to bring her up to speed. None of it is rocket science. She’s a bright kid, and should pick it up fine. I have to confess to feeling a bit let down by the national curriculum here though. I presume it all balances out in later years, but that’s not much help right now.

Of course, with the wedding and the emigration, my to do list remains longer than my arm. Possibly even longer than yours. This week, I have to stop procrastinating, and arrange vaccinations. So many needles, all pointing at me. Part of my brain, the needlephobe bit, shirks away from arranging a series of appointments during which I will be professionally and repeatedly stabbed. On the other hand, a quick flick through what I need to be vaccinated against includes Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Japanese Encephalitis, Polio, Rabies, Typhoid, and Yellow Fever (on top of the routine tetanus, diptheria, and flu), none of which sound reassuring, so I suppose I should suck it up.

Fun for all the family.

Hmmm… what else has been going on? I went to see Star Trek, and had a terrific time with it. Not as thematically challenging as the best of the classic series, but a fine summer adventure, with some well played character relationships. As you’ve read everywhere, Zachary Quinto is a particularly fine Spock, but all of the actors nail enough of the essence of who they are supposed to be that they can move on and make it their own thing. I look forward to more, if the same team keep hold of it.

Oh, you might also remember that I was trying to improve my fitness (erm, from a baseline of ‘none’) using the British Army training programme. While I don’t know how well it’s going, I’m certainly sticking to it. I’ve had to make a couple of modifications, for scheduling purposes. The programme would like me to do a strength workout and a short run on Monday and Friday, with another run on Wednesday, and rest days in between. That doesn’t work for me, as it leaves me too little time to get on with other things on the Monday and Friday evenings. Instead, I do a longer run on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (each of which is more than the programme asks for), and the strength workouts (so far a mixture of press-ups, sit-ups, dips, and dorsal raises) on Tuesday and Thursday.

On that schedule, I’ve so far covered everything I’m supposed to. It’s been four weeks, and the next-day feeling of having been beaten up after the strength workouts is becoming way too familiar. This Sunday I redo the fitness test I started with, to map my progress, if any. Should either be motivating, or the nail in the coffin of the enterprise. I will let you know.

Right, off to write letters, make phone calls, and entertain daughter (who is unexpectedly off today – I can never keep up with school holidays). I’ll leave you with a reminder that the soon to be out of print Short Trips: Transmissions and the currently Stoker Award shortlisted Beneath the Surface, are both on sale at the moment. Check them out, while it lasts.