Friends of blogdad long ago discovered their bodies couldn't deliver the level of performance they had effortlessly supplied in their prime.This was not a problem for me. I was never fit: I could run a bath, leap before I looked, jump a car and skip school. But any non-metaphorical activity passed me by (other than a three-year martial arts spell which now amazes me).
My unwelcoming attitude to exercise has partially been prompted by its insistence on being accompanied by nausea: (a particularly vigorous swimming session could have ended in tears, a curcuit training exercise at school likely did for the unfortunate PE teacher who'd dismissed my warnings of biological repurcussions.)
Wii Fit advert...
But now I'm a father-to-be I'm getting up in the morning and exercising. On face value this is down to coincidental aquisition of the Wii Fit and its identification that my body mass index qualified me for the category "Overweight" - an accolade only sought by the obese.
However, I think the realisation that I'm going to have to carry something heavy around for a few years (not inside me admittedly) and the desire to skirt the "fat dad" tag have played a role here too.
So my new "regime" involves running on the spot, virtual hula hooping and pretend step classes.
Is an unprecedented desire for fitness the male equivalent of nest-building? I thought it might be, so I Googled it.
The ubiquitous search engine returned few results and suggested I might have meant to search "had it". There was Fathers.com (which reckons its a good idea) but not too much else.
On the bright side should I be unsuccessful in converting my keg to a six-pack at least I won't be responsible for making blogbaby fat - but like me, it'll be looking up to blog-mum-to-be.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment