If I remember correctly one of the early threads in this blog was about my attempt to give up coffee. I still have failed to do that (or rather, I have succeeded at it a number of times - way to be positive). I no doubt have banged on about a number of attempts to be healthier too. I am now embarking on my newest attempt, which is also my last. If this doesn't work, then fuck it.
So, I have a trainer at the Broadmeadows Fitness Centre, Karen, who is a delight, and who is advising me all about agave syrup and quinoa, etc, and who is going to get me on the cardio machines any day now (I have to get an OK from 'my' doctor that it is alright for me, with my cholesterol madness and asthma, to do these things). Any day now means, when she gets back from Fiji. But she also told me to eat six meals a day (not conventionally sized meals I assume, though she actually didn't specify) and told me how she made yoghurt out of coconut milk which I have to tell you, sounds amazing and I want to do the same. She also told me that next time I took the dogs out I should walk and jog in a proportion of 2 mins to 1.
So this morning I tried it. I failed. Did I mention I am spectacularly unfit? I have some stamina, I suppose, to the extent that I can set out to walk to Keilor or somewhere else 5 or 10 km away and I will get there; I won't sit on a wall after two blocks and light up a fag. But I wasn't even sure what jogging was (still aren't) and while I did try, I certainly quickly found that it made my gorge rise and my heartbeat quickened, very unpleasant experiences, especially the first.
I thought it would be interesting for Barry and Ferdy if I drew away from them with speed and it was, eventually. At first they didn't notice (or did but didn't care). Then they figured it was a lark to chase me. Then Ferdy figured it was a lark to chase a bicycle passing in the other direction, which is a worrying development. But ultimately it was all fine. It was all fine. And it will be finer. I'll keep telling myself that.