I recently had the occasion to stand on the scales. This led to two rather unpleasant revelations:
1) I’m a fat bastard
2) I need to start doing something about it *right now*.
Seeing the scales *nearly* touch 80Kg wasn’t nice. Especially as your humble correspondent is only 5′ 8″ when he stands up straight, the round-shouldered slob. Gentlemen should not have boobs, either.
So, with only the faintest air of desperation, I bought an exercise bike.
Today it arrived. (Thank you Amazon).
– it was assembled with meticulous care according to the instructions. (Except the bit that was wrong)
– it was stood up and sat on to adjust the saddle height
– it was used. Only –slightly– painfully. Here she is in all her glory:
Doesn’t my mother’s garden look nice?
So back to the point.
This post will be the first in a (hopefully not too-frequent) series journaling my rise from pathetic wimp to velodrome demi-god. Or something like that anyway.
In reality I’ll settle for:
– the loss of (most of) the fat gut
– the ability to see my feet while standing up (nearly) straight
– the ability to walk up hills without collapsing into a undignified wheezing heap (At least not before I get to the top, anyway)
So, today’s little session was recorded as such:
5 mins at setting 1 (A baby could peddle it)
15 mins at setting 5 (You’re *still* pathetic)
Speed (approx) 23 Kph
Distance covered: 7.4Km
Calories burned (Yeah, right!): 112
Pulse (This is probably wildly inaccurate): 125-ish
[I did try setting 8 (Cycling uphill through tar with the wind in your face), but needless to say thought better of it almost straight away!]
So in conclusion, not only am I a fat bastard, I’m a grossly unfit one, too.
This is not going to attract the ladies. Not that I’m going to anyway, but at least I can try. Badly, as usual. Ho Hum. Progress will be recorded and used in evidence.
You’re not going to get photos of the gut, though. That’s just TOO gross.