My leg appears to be getting a little bit better daily. Certainly, I’ve been walking pain free for a bit and “running” over the road to avoid traffic appears to be OK.
I have been attempting to keep fit and keep the old Body Mass Index at the thin end of the “ideal” category by swimming (boring), cycling (ok) and visits to the gym (baffling).
Strange that I’ve been spending so much time on the bike, and then when I go to the gym? Why yes.. I spend time on a bike (only, going nowhere).
Now. It’s a universal truth, possibly explained by boffins such as Stephen Hawkins or somebody equally clever, that the piped music in gyms is crap. I’ve been forced therefore to take my MP3 player in with me and listen to proper music. Music for adults and those of us with an IQ that actually reaches into double figures.
However, it would appear that the rhythmic “boom..boom..boom” that passes for music nowadays is not enough stimulus for today’s youngsters.
Each of the cardio machines it appears is fitted with a telly… A telly that transmits visual clues as to what the f* these “pop stars” are actually warbling about.
Anyway, the telly fitted to the front of my bike was showing videos by today’s young lady entertainers. Young chanteuses who go by names such as “Lady Ga Ga” and Rihanna (I was about to make a flippant remark about whether or not the title “Lady” was hereditary – but then I remembered a man who listens to Duke Ellington and Count Basie should maybe not cast the first stone).
Their “act”, from what I could figure out, seems to involve singing badly, while writhing around in various costumes each getting progressively smaller.
Despite trying to turn off the telly I was forced to watch this while attempting to cycle at a relatively vigorous tempo.
My MP3 player at this stage decide to play Andy Sheppard’s “I Wish I Knew”. Strange, but music and video worked. (find the track and listen to it) J
Yesterday saw me sans MP3, sans “Rihanna” and on a proper bike pushing out a steady twenty odd miles in the piddling rain and cold. With nothing but my own pure thoughts to keep me company. That’s more like it.