The battle between the allied forces of my diet and my exercise, and my love of beer continues to rage on around my midriff. On the plus side, I’ve been exercising pretty regularly: just about every day to some degree.
Sadly, the high temperatures and my lack of will power has led to some erosion of the benefits of that exercise, in that I have enjoyed some (or more) beers next to the pool, with dinner or – in one particular case – next to the pool with dinner over the last week or so.
It could be worse. I could be drinking and not exercising. Or, if you choose to look at it another way, exercising and not drinking. And so while I’m not necessarily getting all that I could be from my runs or gym visits, I’m happy enough. Everything in moderation. Including, it would seem, progress on my fitness.
But there is progress. A few centimetres here, a couple of kilos there. I’m getting there (slowly). And the great news is that the bits that were the most hurty before Christmas are not the bits that are (temporarily) hurting after my exertions.
This morning’s 5km was my fastest of the year: indeed, looking back, (surprisingly) my fastest since 1st September last year. Evidently, things are on the mend.
Even if I won’t be able to stand up once I finish writing this post.
Ja. I’m a bit stuck. Could someone get me a beer, please?