Time to get fit

Time to get fit. Well fit enough to carry out this job.

I’ve never been one for too much exercise. Walking to the pub and then back again with suitable lubrication in between has been as far as I was willing to take it. Watching the zombies on the treadmills and rowing machines at the local gym has always been a past-time. I’ve never understood why they do it. Why run and get nowhere? Why use a rowing machine when you could actually be having fun out on the water? And, if you choose the right river, there are usually a plethora of country pubs and fine restaurants to choose from to break up the monotony.

I’ve covered four bouts over two days with a curry and drinking session in between before, and it left me physically and mentally knackered. The task in hand will be four days of near continuous shooting, backing up files in the early hours and getting up and starting again. With the obligatory few beers peppering the action. I would put all my faith in strong black coffee and a mindless self-determination. But who am I kidding? I know that will be a recipe for a complete breakdown. Ending up as an incoherent, gibbering mess with the caffeine shakes. So getting fit seems to be the only option.

I’ve been skating with the Sheffield Steel Rollergirls on several occasions. The last time was due to an idle challenge. Jamming was harder than I thought. My skating technique, or lack of, didn’t help but it made me appreciate the fitness level needed to play the sport.

I had been told that the schedule at the competition would be tight, demanding extreme stamina from the athletes. But I also knew the same would go for myself.

My lack of fitness was brought home to me the other day whilst chatting to someone who had branded me as unfit. Unfit as in healthy, or unfit as a human being I wondered? The person in question had just come fourth in a cross country East to West challenge. Running, cycling, kayaking, swimming and god knows what else. They had finished fourth to what I would normally term as abnormal body Nazis. The winner was James Cracknell OBE, British rowing champion and double Olympic gold medalist. An average field then!
OK I’m less fit than you I thought, but I’m not that unfit.

However as the seasons change from summer to autumn and then closes in to Winter I usually go in to hibernation mode. Hibernation mode means consuming as many roast chestnuts and bottles of port as possible and then sitting back with a glass of whisky, waiting for the gout to set in. This seemed to be at odds with the task in hand.

I resolved to get myself in to the best physical state that I can. I will go out jogging. I will do some sit ups. I will… At least I thought about it.

Who am I trying to kid. I know I’ll just wing it on blind optimism and as much coffee as the body will take. It’ll give me an excuse if all the photos are blurred. It’s not me it’s the caffeine. Well, that’s my excuse.

Comments

  1. Gout: the medical condition of champions (life champions, obvs, not health champions)!

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