How do sloths stay fit? Asking for a friend...
As the mercury rises to record levels on the region’s thermometers, the reading on my weighing scales would probably do the same.
I say probably because I’ve steered clear of them for a while but don’t imagine my current diet and exercise levels are doing much to slash the pounds.
The excuses are, as always, legion (house-hunting, packing, shifting possessions to a friend’s house, seeing chums, and more packing) but don’t really amount to a hill of refried beans squashed into a lovely melted cheese-splattered quesadilla.
Obviously this week has brought another excuse, the absurdly high tarmac-melting, energy-sapping temperatures.
Freedom Leisure’s gyms are air-conditioned haven on a hot day, although summoning up the required vim and vigour to get there isn’t currently that easy, especially when I’m managing to break sweat putting out the recycling, which last time I looked wasn’t an event featured in the World’s Strongest Man Competition.
But when you think about it the heat is a fairly lame excuse, Usain Bolt has managed to do alright growing up on an island country with an average daily temperature of 80-90 °F, rather than the odd climate-change driven heatwave.
I haven’t been completely sedentary, the property search continues and with it and a fair amount of stomping around Brighton, Hove and outer regions, and the endless amounts of packing and lugging stuff around has been especially unpleasant this week, but hopefully it’s been of some rudimentary cardiovascular use (I know I’m clutching at straws a bit, more so when you consider I leave the heavier boxes full of vinyl to my lovely friends to carry).
But right now I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been packing, cleaning, or refusing to throw away old clothes because I cling to the ridiculous notion that I’ll miraculously fit it into them again.
It’s not quite as tragic as it sounds because I have had intermittent spells of being fitter and less lardy, and it’s always ruddy marvellous to be able to wear the old clobber again. Besides some ghastly old outfits are worth keeping for posterity. One day I can envisage my “Love, Peace and People - Ravers of the World Unite” Mark Wigan-designed long-sleeved t-shirt in a museum demonstrating the dubious fashion choices of the late ‘80s.
Elsewhere, my date with destiny and follow-up session with Freedom Leisure fitness supremo Ryan was metaphorically rained off, but hopefully it’ll materialise in the next week or so, when the unfathomably high temperatures give way to more recognisable erratic British Summertime weather.
To find out more about Freedom Leisure’s the gym visit www.freedom-leisure.co.uk