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 granddad 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.