Writing remains dead. Teaching eats everything; I spend most of my spare time creating resources, marking, or just plain dealing with the steepness of the learning curve that comes from being out of a game for twenty-five years. There’s a writing group in town: Luscious and I went to it a few times, but haven’t been in something like 9 months. We’re talking about going back, just to get in touch with the joy of words. Watch this space. Or, if you care about the outcome, maybe don’t…
Weight loss has tapered off in a major way. See above for the reasons why. I’m still under 100kgs, which is a good thing, and trying to fit workouts into the gaps. Call it maintenance rather than loss, perhaps. I have still lost centimetres, which is positive, and my chest has gained half a centimetre of muscle where there was once only fat. It’s a long haul. I’m still hauling.
The Lego remains in the cupboard. Time, community, opportunity to display are all lacking. But Luscious and I have just swapped offices because reasons, and mine now has a Great Big Giant Table ™, so possiblymaybeperhaps I’ll have a chance to get it all out and noodle around with some pieces just for fun. We’ll see.
Life decisions have been decisioned. We like it here. There are opportunities for us. We’ll be staying for at least another three years.
Have I missed anything?
Late in 2017, while making resolutions for our upcoming sojourn in the Pilbara, I was struck by the desire to set a specific goal around my ongoing failure to lose weight. At the same time, Luscious and I stumbled across a documentary about the 2015 CrossFit Games. Apart from developing instant envycrushes on Mat Fraser (and in a subsequent doco, Rich Froning) and three athletes we thought of as ‘The Dottirs’ (Annie Thorisdottir, Sara Sigmundsdottir and Katrin Davidsdottir), we were also introduced to a particularly hellish-looking piece of business known as ‘Murph’.
Murph is a competitive routine named after a US Navy Lieutenant and crossfit enthusiast, Michael Murphy, who was killed in Afghanistan in 2005. It consists of the following elements:
- 1 mile (approx. 1500 metre) run
- 100 pull-ups
- 200 push-ups
- 300 squats
- Another 1 mile run
Continue reading “THE FAT MAN MURPH: HOW IS *THIS* MY NEW YEAR’S TRADITION?”
Being fat is a humbling experience, particularly when I was once used to a level of physical fitness that allowed me to pretty much do as I please. Here’s this week’s example:
Luscious and I are taking some time away, soon. You might remember, a few years ago, that we managed a writing weekend away we dubbed Battcon. There was drinking, there was a soupcon of tourism, there were wineries, there was writing, there was hanging out in Margaret River having fun, there was more writing. I wrote a bunch of silly blog posts about the whole thing, that you can re-read here. I also wrote an 8000-word short story in 2 days.
Well, the opportunity to repeat the fun has arisen. Continue reading “TOO FAT FOR CAMELS”
My payout came through yesterday. Very nice. And what with the School sharing a carpark with the Karratha Leisureplex, and what with me dropping Luscious and the kids off every morning, having a swim every morning looks like the perfect way to get the day started with some exercise. So, Luscious walked me to the counter this morning, and thank you City of Rockingham, I bought an annual swim membership.
Five days a week, forty weeks of the year, I’ve got no excuse not to kiss Luscious and the kids good day, walk thirty steps in the opposite direction to them, and hit the lanes.
So, first session in the 25m long, 1.2m deep, pool today: walked 20 lengths, swam 4, walked another 10, and swam 2, before my shoulder and my knee let me know I’d done enough. It’s not a huge amount , but it’s a start. And it’s one I can build on, every day.
Baby steps. Or in this case, baby splashes.
Length of pool when there with the family on Sunday: 25 metres.
Length of pool this morning, after they removed the thing I thought was a permanent feature and didn’t realise was a temporary wall cutting the pool in two: 50 metres.
Distance I can swim before needing to take a break to gasp and flop about like a dying fish: 25 metres.
Lengths I can swim before I am overcome by dizziness, lack of breath, and all-round symptoms of dying: 5.
God, when did I become so pathetic?
3 minutes skipping
3 minutes high-rep standing bag
3 minutes stepping– box jumps, left foot lead, right foot lead
3 minutes sit ups
3 minutes push ups
3 minutes bicep curls
3 minutes tricep overheads
3 minutes skipping
- Reads a magazine article wherein a bloke does 100 push-ups a day to improve his physique, build core resistance, and lose stomach fat.
- Thinks, “Hey! I need all those things. I can’t do 100, but I can do five. If I do five lots of five a day, that’s 25. I can get used to that, and build from there. Magic!”
- Works out that starting at 6am, three hours apart, can fit five sets in and finish at 6pm.
Today. First attempt.
- 6am: I can do five push ups!
- 9am: I can do fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive push uuuuuuupppppsssss…..
- 12pm: I can do fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiucking hell!
If I just lie here counting carpet threads, I’ll be right where I need to be come 3pm……