Fitness Disciple

I'm a fan of those motivational one-liners that are frequently seen online because they're short and snappy, say precisely what they mean and stick in your head, a good example being: Stop admiring other people's bodies and make other people admire yours.

I've spent an entire lifetime admiring attractive bodies but I take the point, if you're flicking through images of fitties thinking how amazing they look and wishing that you too had a body like theirs then it will simply never happen.

It's good that you applaud the results you see in others, commending the self-discipline, determination and work ethic involved but sitting there in silent admiration gets you nowhere, you have to make the difference yourself as nobody else is going to do it for you.

On the other hand, it is well within your grasp and if your mind is set then you quickly become resolved to achieving your personal ambition and suddenly you find yourself saying, I can do this! I will do this! 

Those pictures have then proved themselves wonderful motivational tools which have inspired you to push through to find a better, stronger you; having a naturally beautiful body is one thing but working damn hard to create such perfection is truly inspirational.

You owe it to yourself to become a fitness disciple right now and the next time that you're browsing fitties, just remember that the girls in those pictures weren't born such goddesses, they made it so.

An Aquatic Beauty

It never fails to amaze just how much of a fool a man can make of himself when his eyes are on a pretty girl and is eager to impress: the greater his efforts to capture her attention, the more disastrous the results usually become.

Take the particular young lady that I spotted at the local swimming pool one day; the mere sight of her as she came out of the changing rooms looking simply perfect in an exquisite and extremely flattering swimsuit quite literally took my breath away.

She was absolutely stunning, there's no other way to describe how she looked and not only did she possess a body to die for but I soon found that it was also a body to drown for, her sudden appearance causing me to inhale a gallon or two of chlorinated water through my nose as I flailed about like an over-excited seal pup.

This vision of aquatic beauty dived in and swam swift and graceful as a mermaid, such a natural was she in the water, utterly oblivious to my personal struggle to remain nonchalantly afloat while she effortlessly sped from one end of the pool to the other leaving me floundering like a stricken old dinghy.

Each calamitous moment that passed lessened the already fading chances that I might eventually impress her until, at length, she sprang lithe and glistening from the water without so much as a backward glance in my direction, disappearing from my sight but lingering long, long afterwards in my thoughts.

The Beast On The Beach

This summer will be the first in years that i don't have to suck-in my belly on the beach whenever a gaggle of pretty bikini babes walks by which is very reassuring even though I don't actually visit the seaside purely to provide additional ornamentation for the assembled bathers.

I certainly don't anticipate any members of the female persuasion sinking into a swoon upon seeing me emerge from the sea but at least I can be satisfied that I've given them something perfectly presentable to focus their attention on from behind the safety of their shades.

Having worked hard to shed my former beer-barrel belly, I might not have successfully transformed it into a six-pack just yet but I am definitely on the right track and am patiently endeavouring to add the odd rippling muscle to my current physique as well.

You may rest assured that normal beach protocol will still be observed and that I will be looking at them far more than they will be looking at me but having said that, an appreciative glance in my direction every once in a while would be very welcome and accepted on my part in good grace.  

Control of the sun-tan lotion will remain firmly in my hands, however, so if anybody is going to do any slow, sensuous oiling then it'll be me...but perhaps when I've finally reached Diet Coke Man status then I might let those lucky ladies have their turn at last.

Trotting Along

This week I went for a refreshing run through a scenic country park which is very local to me and also very beautiful, the ideal place to stretch my legs and push myself a little with uneven terrain, hills and slopes.

The strange thing about outdoor running, the thing that makes me love it so much, is that I can push myself to the limits physically and yet completely relax mentally amidst the peaceful, idyllic surroundings.

Pounding the pavements is very rewarding too but brisk open-air exercise in natural areas of outstanding merit, surrounded by endless trees -and hardly any people- lends of a sense of harmony and deep satisfaction to the days exertions.

On reflection, my one small regret is that I tend to conclude my run when I feel fatigued and merely leave it at that whereas I really ought to take a breather, a short spell of walking to recuperate, before taking off again and covering a bit more ground before returning home.

Running for me is aimed at endurance over speed, the distance travelled being far more meaningful than the time taken to achieve it and although I'm still only a beginner with a lot to learn, my ambition is to one day be able to just run and run; I might not be very fleet-of-foot but I'm nothing if not steady.
      

Mistress Muscles

In an ideal world my very own personal trainer would be a merciless amazon of a woman who took no prisoners and tolerated no nonsense. She would be lean, mean, tight and toned, out-of-your-league kind of beautiful and relentlessly efficient like a well-oiled machine.

She would stretch every sinew, extract every drop of sweat, push my laboring body to breaking point and then impassively insist on more.

Actually, now that I come to think of it, I do rather like the idea of a rather assertive fox in a skin-tight leotard making endless demands of me and never settling for anything less than wholehearted, unconditional satisfaction...who on earth wouldn't?

The stronger and more muscled I became the better I would be able to serve her and the more vigorously I might meet her unforgiving needs, my frosty-hearted, iron-fisted queen of the fitness regime.

A veritable vixen like that would soon lick me into shape and have my heart-rate monitor going into meltdown as she stood over me, hands on hips and a sadistic cruelty on her lips, requiring of me that no matter how much I gave, I could always give just that little bit more.

Bikini Body Season

There are two windows of desperation in the modern calender where women of all ages fly into a mild state of panic upon having taken a good long look at themselves and, as is often the case in their own private opinions, found themselves sadly wanting.

The first is, of course, at the conclusion of the Christmas holidays when stock has been taken of all those extra pounds mysteriously gained throughout the festivities and the second follows in late spring with the imminent arrival of summer.

The hot weather is something that we all look forward to every year but it also means that sooner or later we'll have to expose our bodies to all and sundry on the beach, knowing that the eyes of strangers will be lingering over every ounce of reluctantly revealed flesh.

Your beach body will not only be noticed and admired, it will also be appraised and assessed by people who have no business placing their gaze in such hitherto private areas, so the urgency in attaining the perfect bikini body at this time of year becomes a pressing matter of great urgency.      

The pride and satisfaction at having achieved her personal objective shines out across the golden sands as the woman confident in her curves draws the admiring attention of all, men and women alike, happily thinking to herself that if they wish to contemplate her beauty then all her effort has made the act of looking well worth their while.    

On The Run

I've run more in the last couple of months than I have in the past thirty years, which admittedly isn't saying much, but I finally forced myself out of the armchair to put one foot in front of the other in the name of exercise...and I'm actually enjoying it enormously.

I do an hours swimming every week and a few weights most days but it is the thought of going for a run that really captures my imagination until it's almost an overwhelming urge that cannot be denied.

The likes of Mo Farah and Usain Bolt need lose no sleep over my unprecedented burst of recent activity but that is not my intention as I steadily pound the pavements, rather I seek only to compete with myself, gradually extending the distance covered before my body demands that I stop.

My personal best to date stands at 3km and my aim is to better this just a little every month and each milestone will secretly be as rewarding to me as an Olympic Gold; it's a challenge that spurs me onwards from week to week.

My only shadow of regret in all this is that I didn't start running much earlier, making me wonder what sort of results might have been achieved had I run my way through my twenties or thirties...

It's never too late to start though and whatever drives or inspires you, one thing that I can say without doubt is that you'll never regret going for a run no matter how daunting it may seem at the beginning, the post-run sense of achievement and exhilaration is immense even for a modest old trudger like myself.  

Running Up That Hill

Once you've been bitten by the fitness bug all sorts of personal changes manifest themselves and not only in examples like a leaner physique or rippling muscles nor even the general sense of healthy well-being either; I believe that the inspirational or supportive aspects needs a mention too.

Whereas I would grudgingly admire someone who aspired to any great levels of fitness I would also roll my eyes as they became impassioned about super foods, calorie burning and pain barriers but changing my lifestyle has also made a great change in my attitude.

I now want to praise and encourage anybody who is making the effort, no matter how insignificant they might believe their own accomplishments to be, I want to remind them that even a little exercise is so much more than the person on the couch did.    

We don't have to become all-conquering Olympians, just slightly better versions of ourselves, something that can be best achieved with a quiet determination, faith in ourselves and the fortifying support of those around us.

We'll have despairing moments when seeing the finished article sauntering by all toned and Godlike, putting our own achievements to shame and making us feel that we're wasting our time but stay on the right track and eventually we will reach a place that was almost unthinkable just a few short months earlier.

Hallelujah!

Having seen the light at the start of the year, I have now become such a devotee of the healthy lifestyle that I only just stop short of crossing myself whenever anybody so much as mentions fast food, takeaways or cakes.

Repenting my slothful, slovenly old ways with a vengeance, my personal road-to-Damascus moment has left me vowing to shun each new temptation and every calorie-packed fat-trap that life may throw my way.

A veritable evangelist of the dining table, you might say.

Where once Satan lured me onto the treacherous path of lazy convenience food, saturated fat and sugar-coated sweeties, I now stick righteously to the straight and narrow, singing the praises of healthy eating, fresh produce and regular exercise.

I have already reached my target weight and recommended BMI, now aspiring to increase my fitness with a steady zeal tempered only by a sensible moderation, an attainable goal that will reap its own rewards, God willing.

So bring me puddings and pastries no more but rather delight me with something fresh and energising instead, something that invigorates the flesh and illuminates the soul, something worthy of a good old-fashioned, straight from the heart Hallelujah!

Prima Ballerina

How joyously we watch the graceful and effortlessly dainty Prima Ballerina as she pirouettes her charming way across the stage, a mythical little fairy sprung to life and made real before our very eyes.

Blessing us with a captivating performance in satin slippers and tights, her frill adorned sleekness leaves us bewitched and beguiled: a perky princess that delicately twirls her winsome way into our hearts, coquettishly capturing our dreams.

We collectively gasp with wondrous delight as she artfully points a toe skywards and springs like the most nimble of gazelles, making us marvel at all that she does and all that she is.

Oh you bendy beauty, oh you flexible feline, you cavorting, eminently kissable kitten you!

At last, we reluctantly wander off home, our heads spinning with magically intoxicating scenarios in which she graces us with a very special private performance and bestows celestial intimacy behind her discreetly closed dressing-room doors.