So to all half dozen or so readers -- can I really say "readers," since the collective internalized word count has probably lapsed into fossil by now -- of this brilliant account of my soaring journey through fitness: I've been doing next to nothing to maintain any semblance of responsible activity in the last month or so.
On tour, I was in a consistent regime of floor exercise, kettlebell, and aerobic activity (care of drums), which left my now crenellating torso, chest, arms, and legs in a positively encouraging state. Since my return, with all the intention of really giving it gas, i've managed to drink some form of alcohol (albeit a moderate amount) every few days, eat rich food with family, have people over for bacon-y breakfasts, and i've most recently engaged in the reckless filling of a caloric void (late at night) with the refuse of the Golden Arches.
WHAT A BAD EXAMPLE I AM. Most people would dedicate this space to some structurally suspicious apology and commitment to do a better job, but you shall get nothing but the slow, lazy truth. I'll let ya know when something interesting happens.
BUT what sort of totalitarian would I be in danger of becoming if I either succumbed to the world of reckless consumption, or only preached the rigidity of my shaky guidelines for health. The only responsible thing to do if to offer, in the words of Supernaut, "both ways."
Here are some highlights from European Tour:
1) Anywhere is an incline, and thus acceptable to sneak in 30 pushups. Editor's Note: The only reason I decided to blast out a few reps is because I had just eaten a 99 Flake. Editor's Second Note: I chased these good efforts with a humungous portion of fish and chips somewhere in Northumberland, and then fell asleep in the van while trying to read Tony Judt's "Ill Fares The Land." INDEED.
2) Finding a suitable location to do theoretically embarrassing public calisthenics is crucial to your image. If you find the discreet spot, you can just appear to be 'in shape' all the time. If you get caught, you look like a humungous loser and/or a 'jock.' The latter isn't the worst thing in the world, but why alienate when you can magically appear covered in sweat and errant blades of grass. "Where could he have been?" Anyways HERE are some examples of suitably discreet Kettlebelling locations in the UK.
3) I brought a pair of sneakers on tour with the intent to go running. To tell you the truth, I was quite inspired by John Joseph's account of touring with the Bad Brains in the early 80s, running "Serious Miles" every morning on Cro Mags tour, and generally being fit. I saw parallels to my own situation on being on the road a lot, but instead of receding into real fitness dementia, i've opted to pretend to be a laissez faire globe trotting playboy. If it comes down to hoof versus gullet, I seem to have made my choice for now. I've only successfully logged miles on ONE tour, and that was in 2008. What a glorious summer it was, though.
So -- No apologies, but maybe a "better luck next time?"
Something positive ought to come out of this warm weather:
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