Wicksy
31 January 2006
‘Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser’ - Vince Lombardi
A new week and the same old Manual. Mondays are definitely becoming a bit of a problem although yesterdays non attendance couldn’t really be sidestepped for one reason and another. I did however manage to go Football training with Prestbury Rovers yesterday evening.
At 7.45 I paid my quid and after the timid jog, couple of star jumps and swapping jokes with the Lads type warm up that’s commonplace in Footballing circles I strutted onto the artificial playing surface and, belying my years attempted to swagger around Wegerle-like on the omniturf.
QPR Debut - Hillsborough 16/12/89
Unfortunately my bout of fanny dancing was rudely interrupted by a lightning quick kid 15 years my Junior keen to impress the Manager and Coach who looked on. He launched himself from about 6 foot away and slid across the turf with no concern for his own wellbeing let alone mine collecting ball and player simultaneously as he shovelled us out for a throw in. I lied and said ‘good challenge bud’ as he eagerly jumped to his feet and whizzed off back to his Dynamic Midfield role. I retired to sweeper and played out my time collecting the ball from our keeper and delivering simple passes – I really enjoyed myself.
Today was back to the grindstone, with a Lunchtime run. I didn’t fancy it at all. Running into the Megane was one problem, getting overtaken by the anonymous and uninvited Wheelchair Competitor was another thing altogether.
I overtook him after about ½ mile of the run as he was using the pavement. I slipstreamed him for a while then grabbed my overtaking opportunity as we dodged through the traffic both crossing the main road. He was held up waiting for a suitable gap while I managed to squeeze between a Micra and an Astra. As the run proceeded I sneakily looked around to see his frame in the distance, his arms pumping away at the pedals on his recumbent cycle – I realise it’s not a competition but I was beating him and that’s all that mattered to me at the time.
Unfortuntely the Wheelchair Warrior must have sensed me playing this childish game of one upmanship and he put in an injection of pace, 5 minutes later something caught my eye to the left of me. I looked over to the road to see him going like the clappers, arms pumping like pistons as he took advantage of the smooth surface and his machine whizzed past and whirred away until it was a tiny dot in the distance. I muttered ‘Bastard’ under my breath and continued on my way dejected, discouraged and disconsolate with my second place status.
I hasten to add that it wouldn’t have mattered if this bloke was an able bodied contestant, I still would have wanted to beat him in my imaginary competition.
Nick Berry once sang ‘Every Loser Wins’ – That is patently a load of Bollocks!
Wheelchair Man celebrates Victory
11lbs off Roy Jones
29 January 2006
Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to the Weigh in sanctioned by Mens Health Magazine. Those who’ve subscribed to the Pay Per View option for this Broadcast should turn your webcams on now and type in the required password (overloaded). Once again we would like to warn our viewers that the webcast is classified by the British Board of Film Classification as XXL as it may contain images that could cause distress. In addition to this, those who suffer from epilepsy should be wary as the bathroom light does flicker irreularly due to a loose connection.
As you can see our contender has just got out of bed and is wearing a white robe inscribed with the words ‘Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was HOT like me?’ in blue sequined letters. He’s had a shave to reduce body mass and has requested that his second (Len) polish the scales to reduce the chances of mechanical error although due to the time of day operator error could be a major factor.
One last excretion of excess fluids (spit, wee, snot) and we should be under way.
Our contender has disrobed and on he hops and the reading is 186 lbs - 13stone 4 lbs. The IBF won’t be happy, they had him pencilled in to fight Roy Jones Junior in an eliminator bout for the IBF Light Heavyweight Title on the 2nd of February. He’ll have to spend some quality time in the Steam Room to shed the last 11lbs to make the 175lb weight limit.
Jones Jnr, ‘Bring it on Fat Boi’
So, a loss of 15lb over the 28 days - not too bad although I’m still classified as a Cruiserweight. Day 28 of The Manual says ‘walk’ so I duly obliged by walking around Morrisons and picking out a nice bottle of red. At home I celebrated by dunking the last of the Chocolate Fingers in a cup of Black Coffee and by having a glass of the aforementioned wine.
After a lot of deliberation I’ve decided to repeat The Manual again starting tomorrow with day one although as it builds up slowly and I’m up to speed as of now the exercises I do will be slightly different in that I’ll attempt more sets than The Manual requires during the first couple of weeks.
Crunchie Aftershock
27 January 2006
Another 4 miles today and it really did feel like it. After approximately 3/4 mile I develeoped what I thought was the beginnings of a stitch which was pretty unusual as I rarely suffer them when running. Throughout the run the pain across my abdomen never really desisted although it never really developed into a full blown ’stab you in the tummy’ pain. I soldiered on with the nagging ache which transformed my plodding style into a Chris Waddle mope, shoulders slouched, head bowed and whilst I was missing the mercurial left peg I did have the Northern grimace down to a tee.
After the run with the ache still not subsiding I realised what I was experiencing - it was ‘Crunchie Aftershock’. Not some sickening Choccy Bar/Alcholoic Nightmare Combination but the effects of getting too cocky down the Gym last night and attempting far too many sit-ups.
I knew I shouldn’t have done it. It was my own fault for choosing a mat that was an obvious target for another punter to sit right next to. It was the Urinal Test all over again but with Gym Mats and I’d failed miserably.
Another Gym member led next to me and I tried to transform myself into SuperSitupSixPackMan and rattled off my required set of exercises followed by another set and then another in a vain attempt at proving my Gym Prowess.
My punishment (for behaving like all the other posing tosspots whom I usually secretly sneer at whilst attending the Gym) was todays run and I suppose (once again) I deserved it. If I’d have driven passed me today having seen me behave like a complete tosser yesterday evening I’d have wound the window down beeped the horn and given the universal (and timeless classic) ‘W*NKER’ hand gesture combined with a knowing snigger!
Bloody Karma - ‘My Name is Earl’ has got a lot to answer for.
Steam Room Suicide
26 January 2006
I broke a cardinal rule of Steam Room Roulette tonight at the Gym. Sven ‘the nose dripper’ Jenson would’ve turned in his grave. Although Karma paid me back ten fold for my stupidity.
I was happily relaxing in the Steam Room enjoying an adrenelin high, I’d broken the sit up pain barrier just 10 minutes earlier after completing 12 sets of 25 ‘crunchies’ and then it happened…
Two blokes walked in and one preceeded to start coughing, hacking and spluttering as he breathed in and the hot steam reached his lungs. At first it was pretty funny as (pre-hack) his Gym Buddy exclaimed…
“F*ck me Ga’ You’re gonna have to give up the Camel’s” (At first I didn’t know if he was talking about his sexual preference or his smoking habits).
Unfortunately after 20 seconds of choking Ga was still the worse for wear and he was forced to leave the confines of the Steam Room to breathe in the chlorine infested air of the swimming pool outside.
“First time down the Gym.” were the words that Ga’s mate used to excuse his choking pal – I nodded in acceptance of the fact, Sven Jenson’s commandments at the forefront of my mind.
Ga returned, tail (or rather swimming shorts) between his legs and he apologised with a grimace, it was then that Sven’s words disappeared and I found myself blurting out…
“You could have tarmac’d the A40 with the amount that you coughed up then”
As soon as I the ‘…en’ left my mouth I regretted it, wishing I could take it back immediately.
Ga and his partner let out a soft snigger but I realised they didn’t get it. They looked away from me and although the room was completetly full of steam I knew they were sneering. I knew they were thinking
‘What a complete tosser. That was a terrible joke to make. Insensitive and uncalled for. If this were a Pub setting you’d be have a glass of Scrumpy over you by now son. Who does he think he is? He’s not one of us.’
The Reason?
I’d used the wrong Road. What was I thinking? The A40 is a road that links Cheltenham to London, there would be no reason whatsoever to use the A40 in an anecdote if I were a true Gloucester Boy. It was a terrible mistake to make, akin to going to a lesbian dinner party carving up the chicken and saying that you like a nice piece of breast. I was mortified. In short I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
I should’ve made my pleading excuses there and then…
‘Lads, LADS, Don’t you see, I am one of you! Gloucester born and bred, Raised on Drippers and Concorde Café Breakfast’s. As insular as a hermit. As common as the caretaker of the bogs in Eastgate Market. The only reason I used the A40 is ‘cos I travel up it incessantly to watch my football team. Cut me open, go on, do it. I swear I’ll bleed Cherry and White.’
Bit it was too late, I’d lost them. The Nose Dripper looked down pityingly on me from Heaven’s Sweat Box and I gave up my Steam Room Champion Crown to Ga and his mate – Yesterday they deserved it.
If only I’d used the A38 everything would’ve been OK.
The Boring Entry
25 January 2006
Back to the grind of the Gym – I make it sound like a chore but now I’ve encompassed into my daily routine I find that the apathy that I once felt in attending is more or less a thing of the past. Hopefully I can continue with the habitual attendance once The Manual has finished with its’ daily fitness instructions.
My thoughts have been turning to what happens after Sunday when the last day has been and gone and what I should do next month. The Manual and this Diary have both been constant sources of motivation and without them I’m uncertain as to whether I’ll contine with my progress – I’m sure I’ve lost some weight although how much will only be revealed when I finally get on the scales on Sunday.
The Diary isn’t a problem, I can continue writing it as it isn’t that much of a chore. However without the pressure of The Manual constantly egging me on I’m uncertain as to whether I have the discipline to continue with my progress. I’ve decided on a couple of options…
1. Continue with another 28 days of adherence to The Manual, repeating what I’ve already done
2. Find another time based plan and adhere to it in a similar way to The Manual
The latter is obviously more appealing purely for the variety that new instructions will bring although finding something that will suit my requirements is proving rather difficult.
During my Marathon training, along with a friend who wrote a dedicated programme for me I used Hal Higdon’s training plans and found them to be an enjoyable way to assist my training regime so they are a possible option. I would prefer something slightly more diverse than a devoted running programme though so will continue to search until I find something that is more appealing.
Number 34
24 January 2006
Two days of no entries means that I’ve either spent my time guiltily ignoring The Manual or alternatively I’ve found a life and I’m beginning to live it as opposed to write about my lack of one on an internet site.
Surprisingly I’m going for secret option ‘3’ in this instance. Sunday was spent adhering to The Manual’s every whim ‘Give your body a rest and drink plenty of water’. Staying up late and watching the NFL Championship games wasn’t on The Manual’s list however as it called for an early night ready for the final week’s push.
I generally accept that American Football is an acquired taste however there’s something about the speed, skill and athleticism of the participants that has always appealed to me. Ever since I began veiwing during the early 80’s on Channel Four when a bearded Nicky Horne (now a presenter on Jazz FM) was presenting the show I’ve been hooked. Everything from the glitz and glamour of the Soundtrack to the programme (Bonnie Tyler and Frankie Goes to Hollywood), the size and astonishing manoeuvrability of the players, the uncomfortable Horne hosting a sport he obviously knew little about and dedicated Channel 4 logo drew me in to this weird and wonderful sport.
Consecutive visits to Wembley to watch Mike Ditka’s Chicago Bears play My Mum’s favourite Dallas Cowboys and the then Los Angeles Rams play the Denver Bronco’s only served to heighten my appetite for the game - My hero Walter Payton who played for the Bears and was a large factor in their successful Championship winning Season in 1985 was an athlete who possessed poise, grace, skill, guille and speed in equal measures and remains a true legend of the game despite his untimely death from cancer in 1999.
Monday was spent working unfortunately and I just didn’t get the opportunity to complete the required run. In a change to the usual routine chores I was chasing scabied sheep around the Forest of Dean and whilst being exercise to a certain extent it didn’t really give me the fulfilment that Friday’s 4 mile run did (in any way, shape or form I hasten to add!) .
Using up one’s rest day at the beginning of the week is as I’ve found not a good idea so The Manual’s last week proves to be another marathon slog as opposed to a celebratory conclusion. In saying that the run today was superb albeit a bit chilly. The 4 miles were eaten up carniverously by my legs and although grass verges, alleyways and side roads beckoned me with their shortcuts back to the office I wasn’t tempted once. Although why I chose a route that goes passed a Chippy remains one of life’s unanswerable questions!
Almost Perfect
21 January 2006
Up at 7am to get to the Butchers for the Sunday joint of Beef and then straight down the Gym.
There’s something churchlike about the Gym that early in the Morning, a serene calmness falls over the place. The machines silently stand like instruments in an orchestra awaiting a lycra clad musician to bring them to life. There are a few whirrs and clicks as some of the equipment grumbles about the early start but the mad hussle and bussle of an after work visit during the Gym’s peak time is totally absent.
Consequently I was able to go through The Manual’s instructions with no bother whatsoever today - No searching for a postage stamp sized area to get changed. No waiting in line to replenish my water bottle. No keeping an eye on the next bit off equipment hoping it’ll be free when you’re done on the one that you should be concentrating on. No wiping someone’s perspiration of the equipment ‘cos they’re too bloody lazy and uncouth to do it themselves. It was bliss.
Despite the ache in the top of my legs after yesterday’s run I relaxed and completed The Manuals demands and was able to add a couple more sets to the one’s instructed as I felt pretty good. The ‘perfect workout’ was complete after I fell asleep in an empty Steam Room for 20 minutes.
I left the Gym today feeling relaxed, unruffled and at peace with the world. Then Spurs cost me the best part of 250 quid by buggering up my 7 bet accumulator.
Nuts!
Trust Elvis
20 January 2006
Finally! After missing Monday through apathy I’m back in step with The Manual’s Instruction as of today. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were spent in various states of distress at the Gym whilst today was the Road Run which I had decided to complete during my lunch hour at work.
I’d been psyching myself up for the run since Tuesday and had decided on doing the short route that I used during my Marathon training. I was pretty nervous about going out on the pavement again as I hadn’t gone road running for quite a while. I feared that although I’m pretty sure I’ve come a long way since the start of The Manual I’m still miles from being the least bit ‘fit’ and would consequently not be able to complete the distance.
You see, it’s easy to run a treadmill at the Gym. If you feel out of breath - slow the machine’s speed down. If you’re thirsty take a drink from your water bottle which is conveniently placed in the holder in front of you. Sweating? No problem wipe yourself off with the towel draped over the bar next to you. Feeling totally spent? Hit the stop button and dismount. Simple.
In the Gym you can hide your failure to complete a workout on the treadmill by jumping off and attempting a less strenuuos exercise, safe in the knowledge that no-one will realise that you only did 13 minutes of a 25 minute stint.
There is absoloutely no stopping when you’re out on the road, you’re obliged to pound the tarmac until you reach your desired destination. Stopping on the A38 in the cold light of a chilly, dreary day with nothing but a pair of Nike’s, Shorts, Long Sleeve T-Shirt and a QPR Bobble Hat to keep the chill out is not an option. People will immediately appear, driving by in the warmth of their cars giving you ‘those’ looks…
‘Too Fat’
‘Unfit’
‘Bitten off more than you can chew son?’
‘Amateur’
Stop and stretch your groin or hamstring out implying that you’ve picked up an injury and you’ll get a different sent of looks…
‘Should have warmed up properly’
‘Don’t give us that ‘oooh my leg hurts’ crap, we know you’re feigning injury cos you’re knackered’
‘Cramp - unfit’
‘Amateur’
I once drove the route and it worked out to an exact 4 miles so it wasn’t really a daunting distance. Added to that there is a shortcut that can be taken at just about 2 1/2 miles that alters the 4 miles into an even more manageable 3. With this shortcut at the forefront of my mind I trudged out at lunchtime, iPod clipped to my shorts, Bobble Hat on and began the easy downhill stretch of Denmark Road leaving the Office behind in a plume of frosty breath.
My Road Running style is akin to Colin Reitz the Great Britain Steeplechaser of the late 70’s and early 80’s, in that my gait is slow and methodical, I plod along head down looking like a scolded dog.
Reitz - Steeplechaser and former Fitness Coach at Leyton Orient
Unfortunately I don’t possess any of Reitz’s Steeplechase skills which could have helped today. Early on in the run I had to negotiate a piece of trellis that had been discarded across the pavement. It was unfortunate that it was too big to leap over, nor could I escape onto the road due to the oncoming traffic. I therefore found myself tiptoeing through the wooden squares in an Ebonette style, if ‘Double Dutch’ by Malcolm McLaren had been on the iPod playlist I’d have been in my element.
Leap to beat the clicks that keep on coming
I tried to keep my pace steady and remembered that The Manual states ‘You should be able to carry out a conversation whilst completing your Road Run’. Well, if someone was able to converse with me in the language of spit, gasp and snot then I can safely say that a conversation wouldn’t had been a problem.
As I reached the shortcut Elvis Presley’s ‘Suspicious Minds’ was playing. To be honest, I was pretty tired, my legs ached so much more than if I’d been in the warmth and relative comfort of the Gym, bounding along effortlessly on the treadmill, watching Sky Sports, listening to my music and taking generous gulps from my water bottle. The 3 days of Gym visits prior to today were beginning to take their toll on me and I was tempted to take that turn, the easy way out that had tempted me so many times before. But, Elvis told me to trust him and to push on…
‘We can’t go on together with suspicious minds, And we can’t build our dreams on suspicious minds.’
So I did just that. I adopted my Reitz style, got my head down and dug in ignoring the turning that I’ve taken too many times to mention and carried on up the Road. A warm satisfying glow started in the pit of my stomach and grew throughout my whole body protecting me from the chill wind as 1/2 mile later I turned onto the A40 and began the last mile bound for home. Then I stepped in some Dog Doo and upon my breathless return had to surgically remove it from the grooves of my trainers with an old Bic Biro.
Gym’ll Fix It
19 January 2006
‘He does his dirt all by his lonely, forget his homies…’ Guru featuring Les Nubians - ‘Who’s There’
To the best of my knowledge none of my close friends use a gym regularly, they don’t talk about breaking the pain barrier whilst pinching their finger in a locker; the fear experienced when you look down whilst on the treadmill and watch your laces unravel and attempt to wrap themselves around the quickly spinning conveyer belt sucking you under to near certain death; breathing in when taking the long walk around the pool to the Steam Room; missing your mouth with a deft squirt of your water bottle or worse still not doing the top up properly and having the contents spill over your front as you take a long swig.
Unless that is they’re ashamed of their Gym Attendance treating it as an addiction, an itch they can’t scratch - afraid to admit to the hold that the Bright Lights, Uptempo Euro Pop and Sparkling Equipment has upon them…
Benjamin - ‘My name is Benjamin and I’m a Gymaholic, it’s been 18 days since my last workout’
clapclapclapclap
‘And how do you feel about that Benjamin? How are you coping?’
B – ‘Well, I still wake up in the morning desperate for a hit. Sometimes when I’m wearing just my socks I’m tempted to drop down on all fours and fire off a couple of Jody Shechter style squat thrusts on the kitchen lino before breakfast’
‘It’s only to be expected after your 10 year fitness regime Ben. What gets you through the day now?’
B – ‘I obviously use the Reebok prescription patches that I’m entitled to and I try to eat a doughnut a day, last week I even had a sugar in my herbal tea…’
clapclapclapclapclap
B – ‘…I watch a lot of TV and have even invested in a remote control. I try not to run anywhere anymore and the last time I walked to the chippy I definately felt out of breath…’
clapclapclapclapclap
‘Well done Benjers. Although you should really be taking a car to travel distances of over 50 yards now, by walking you’re negating the effect that fatty food has on your body and that just won’t do’
B – ‘I’ve chucked my New Balance Running Shoe’s away, my Nike cross trainer’s are now my Nike doss trainers, and my Adidas Poolside Flip Flops are now my Adidas Poolside Bar Flip Flops for when me and Shaz get the Grand Cayman Holiday vouchers through.’
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‘It’s a long and winding Road Benjy, it appears you’ve taking your first steps to a better life. Any side effects?’
B - ‘Um… yes, it’s rather embarrassing though’
‘We’re all friends here Benji Wenji, a problem shared is a problem halved’
B – ‘It’s not a side effect really, more of a nervous twitch sort of thing’
‘We’re all very sorry to hear that Benny. How does this unfortunate ailment manifest itself?’
B – ‘Star Jumps – I can’t walk 20 yards down the bloody Road without jumping up and flayling my arms and legs outwards at 45 degree angles’
‘Don’t worry Benj, that’s nothing – Michael over there couldn’t walk down the High Street without doing the ‘Morecambe and Wise’ for 2 years after he quit’
B – ‘Don’t worry, DON’T FRIGGIN’ WORRY!!! It’s costing me a bloody fortune. I’ve kicked a display of Glass Crystal over in John Lewis, chucked my pint over a bouncer in the pub and threw my pickled egg ‘n crisps all over his mate with the other hand. I even put my head clean through the skylight in a bus on the way here. I’m saving 50 quid a month by not going down the Gym but these sessions cost a fiver a time, the crystal exhibit cost £378, the dry cleaning bill for the bouncers suit’s cost £30 not to mention the dentist bill after they took my teeth out and Christ knows how much the bus will cost but representatives of Stagecoach are talking 4 figures. I’m skint, fat and miserable and it’s all because I was accosted by some lardy bloke in the street who made me sign up for these courses on the pretext that I would get a Timeshare Holiday in the Cayman Islands. My Shaz has always wanted to go there.’
‘Remember our motto Benjamin - Cancelling the Gym, Isn’t a Sin’
B – ‘You can stick your “Gym? We’ll Fix it” courses up your arse, I’m off to bench press my own bodyweight in Power Bars y’ Tosser’
Wee Papa Rules
18 January 2006
For those Ladies who often wonder about male urinal etiquette I can confirm that it is exactly the same as gym equipment etiquette. I’ll attempt a quick precis in todays entry as I’d like to think that these pages are educational and informative as well as insightful, witty and influential (In additon to that, the Pulitzer prize for BLOG writing whilst being a well documented topic of internet discussion at present is surely only a few years from being a bona fide award). So, here goes…
If there are three urinals adjacent to one another (pictured below is an example of the triple urinal at the Vatican) then Male P*ss Protocol says that you should use either of the end trough’s to give the next visitor the chance to use the opposite far end, consequently putting as much distance as possible between both p*ssing party’s.
Portsmouth Fans love weeing on St. Mary’s
The rules dramatically change when there are 2 urinals as shown here…
Tandem Urinals
If you’re first in then it obviously makes no difference which you choose, however the dilemma for a latecomer is what to do when one is being used.
The Solution?
Well, ON NO ACCOUNT should you ever to go tandem when there are a brace of urinals. If one is being used then bite the bullet and use the toilet. Even if the smell is too much to bare (or you get a polluted one – known as a ‘floater’), it’s better to save face than have to ride shotgun to the left or right of what could be a serial sprayer. It’s often the source of the old rabbit in the headlights expression for blokes when, on entering the Double Urinal Toilet one urinal is being used by a swaying bloke, singing ‘The Irish Rover’ to himself while his hands lay dangling by his side and the one toilet in the place has the ‘Engaged’ sign up. Personally I’d walk out and bide my time but if desperation takes over your only option is turning the taps on and using the sink. A word of warning if you do choose the latter option - Be careful not to have the water flow going at full pelt as the danger of spout splash back is a terrible proposition. Spending several agonising minutes with your crotch under the hand dryer isn’t going to do anything for your self esteem nor for the material of your Farah’s.
Exactly the same goes for Gym equipment, on no account should you take up more space than required – if you go for the middle exercise bike of the 3 then sooner or later you’re gonna be the filling in a Sweaty Lard Lad Sandwich - not even an iPod with the volume turned up to full whack will drown out the puffs and pants of the Body Odour Brothers either side of you. It’s all about maintaining your own personal space by using whatever’s necessary as a buffer zone which in turn will help you suffer in peace (which can also be said for urinal use if you’re getting a burning sensation whilst going) when using the machines.
Other things to remember at the gym that are equally applicable in a urinal situation…
1. Eyes forward at all time
2. No talking
3. No elbow contact
4. No dripping over other users
5. No eye contact
6. Wipe equipment down after use
7. Keep noise (deep breaths, moans or groans) to a minimum
The ingestion of liquids are allowed however remember only certain drinks are sanctioned. Commit these rhymes to memory and you should have no worries…
At The Gym
Wanna be Bionic?
Knock back water
Or something isotonic
At the urinal
Having a P*ss?
Bottles of Lager
Won’t make you miss
Think you’ve mastered the fine art of urinal etiquette? Try THE URINAL TEST if you feel you’re up to the challenge. I guarantee that even a professional toilet goer will get at least one scenario wrong - George Michael scored 5 out of 6.