The Fat Bloke Diaries

 

THE FAT BLOKE MONTHLY

January 2010

It was the coldest of times; it was the snowiest of times. It was the age of childish foolishness, it was the age of stay-at-home wisdom, it was the epoch of snowballing fun, it was the epoch of icy terror, it was the season of darkness, it was the season of extreme slipperiness. It was, in short, the winter of my discontent.

And I was supposed to restart my running training in it.

Let me immediately ‘manage your expectations’ on this one. I don’t know how it was where you live but in my part of South Yorkshire it’s been the worst winter in over 30 years (or best, depending on your mental age). We had about 60 centimetres of snow – that’s over two foot in old money, and those feet that it came over were mine.

I was never going to go running in that although, to my slight credit, I did get out for some long and difficult walks in it with my Beloved. Thawing out at home with a hot chocolate, a whisky and a loved one is a rare pleasure. It’s one of the best things about winter, especially when the snow is like that old joke about King Wenceslas’ favourite pizza (deep pan, crisp and even). It was white and fluffy. Beautiful. And snow fell on snow.

But then came a slight thaw. The snow melted (a little). Night fell. The melted snow refroze. And that’s when the trouble started.

I don’t do balance. Maybe it’s a result of those ear operations when I was a kid, I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve been known to fall over just when standing still (although to be fair their’s usually been some lovely liquid involved). I’m the kind of guy who would make Todd Carty and Bobby Davro favourites for the Dancing On Ice final. Dancing? I can’t even walk on ice. So getting to the top of the Hill of Doom – a very steep incline that must be climbed for me to get to my office – was always going to be tricky. People of normal balancing abilities struggled. You can guess what happened to me. I made it part of the way up the hill and then simply got stuck. I stood in the middle of the road with nowhere safe to put a foot. Fortunately there was nobody stupid enough to try driving down it, that danger wasn’t present, but the danger of me being stranded there until the Big Thaw was very real. Wherever I tried to move, my feet just couldn’t get purchase. Even in my hiking boots they simply slid over the surface.

I’d like to say that I was like I swan, all motion at the bottom but calm and serene higher up my body, but I can’t lie – and you’d never believe me anyway. The truth is I was flapping and swaying just to keep still. It wasn’t pretty, but at least I maintained some kind of balance, as long as I stayed where I was. And then even that option was taken away from me, as I slowly began to slide down the hill.

There was nothing for it; I had to make a move. I sprinted for a nearby fence, in the hopes that if I could reach that, then I could assess the situation from a position of relative security. I went for it and, like Frank Sinatra in Von Ryan’s Express, I so very nearly made it. But not quite.

I did the full ‘Scooby-Doo dance’, the one where Scooby’s legs move so fast that they become a loosely-sketched blur while he stays rooted to the spot. Eventually gravity stopped laughing and remembered that it was supposed to pull me down, which it did. Hard.

The cuts and grazes have healed now, but the lumps and bruises on my hip are still there, huge but fading, after two full weeks. At their worst they were the colour of Joseph’s coat. I’m told that Barnsley General Hospital had its busiest Casualty room ever on that day. I count myself lucky not to have added to their number. Maybe I would have if I’d been able to get there.

I’m just glad that I had chosen not to go running.

But even with the floor outside being extremely run-unfriendly I knew that I had to start exercising again soon after allowing myself an excessive Christmas. It was time to get back in the saddle so I did just that. I dusted off my gigantic metal steed, the exercise bike that sits in my dining room. I pedalled. 10km, 20km….. 30km. In the past I’ve managed that distance in one increasingly uncomfortable sitting. After taking time off to lose the small amount of aerobic fitness that I once had ,it took all of the Christmas to New Year period combined to travel the same distance. But at least I was exercising. The puddle under the seat proved it.

Christmas had actually brought a new addition to my fatbuster arsenal. My Beloved’s sister had bought us the latest update for the Wii Fit. More workouts and more games to get me warm and sweaty without realising that I ‘ doing some good. My favourite by some distance is the Fly Like a Chicken game. Basically it involves flapping your ‘wings’ frantically and trying to land a virtual chicken (who looks uncannily like me with feathers – hopefully yours will look different) onto virtual islands in a virtual sea. I must have lost at least half a real stone rolling around with laughter at this one. It would probably have been for the best if I’d closed the curtains before ‘taking off’ though. Heaven only knows what my neighbours must have thought as they passed my house, but I’m glad that I remembered to close them before I started the running-on-the-spot exercises. I might have looked stupid, but it was a heck of a lot safer than running outside in the arctic conditions and finishing my evening in traction.

Eventually though the snow dispersed, leaving the harsh chill winds that are much more expected at this time of year. This weather is a perfect excuse for not running, one which I used frequently. I’m not running today. It’s too
a) cold
b) wet
c) dark
d) all of the above.

Towards the end of the month my Beloved got thoroughly sick of hearing this. So one night, before I could trot out my usual stable of false justifications for staying in with a book and a bottle she handed me a bag. A present. A lovely gift. A lightweight, waterproof, reflective running jacket.

Thanks love.

Now I had no excuse

I’ve never heard my legs scream before. Some might say it was the howling wind in the bare trees, but I know different. My quads were still whimpering two days later, but large helpings of chocolate and beer silenced them.

I can’t say that it was easy of fun, but I love the fact that I came home and told her I’d only run two miles.

Did you pick up on that? ‘Only’ two miles.

It’s not all that long ago I’d have said that distance was beyond me. Now I’ve managed it as the first run of the year, a baseline on which to improve.

January has also seen me take my Beloved on a trip to two European capitals. We travelled down to London to see the incredible Cirque du Soleil. The Beloved leaned over to me during one particularly intricate feat of balance and contortion (the Cirque acrobats were doing this, not us) and she whispered, ‘Their Wii Fit yoga must be a lot more difficult than ours’.

While we were Down South we also took advantage of the excellent Eurostar service for a day trip to Paris. Sadly, my Beloved declined my invitation to join the ‘Mile Low Club’, but we did get a serious workout when we arrived in France…

Sheffield – the city where I was born and raised – is famous locally for being built on seven hills. We like to believe that the Romans nicked the idea from us. So I’ve always thought that my leg muscles have been pretty good, what with the constant upping and downing. But hills are one thing, steps are quite another. Even London’s underground system (sponsored by Stairmaster) has nothing on our brief trip to Paris. The stairs at the train station, the Metro stations and, mostly, the full day climbing up and down the countless steps of the Louvre museum (where we amazingly managed to completely miss the Mona Lisa) took its toll. We were both sore of leg when we finally hit our beds

And I suspect, as winter finally begins to loosen its icy grip and the roads become safe for longer runs once again, that’s going to be a condition that I’ll have to get used to.

© 2010 Shaun Finnie
 

 

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