.
Well, only partly
and incidentally detox, but I liked the alliteration.
Its a week since I
last charted my efforts to regain health, strength and shape. And those efforts
haven’t been allowed to slacken. Five days of the six at Holmes Place,
including a personal-trainer session with Nik … and, yes, five days of six
(including two dinner parties) with careful food and no … read my lips, no …
alcohol!
A typical day’s
self-training in the exercise room lasts 30-40 minutes. I repeat the exercises
(or those I can remember) that Nik has shown me – starting with the gentle,
loosening ones and building up to weights, machines and floor exercises – with
a few of Dad’s 1930s routines, and one of two of my own 1960s lot, for good
measure. Then, down to the pool for underwater stretches, followed by a
delicious sauna and the birdsong shower. Depending on what the day holds
otherwise, the whole affair can last two to three hours: it seems like one. I’m
loving it.
On Wednesday, Nik
gently upped the pressure. 4kg each hand-weight, 20kg the rowing machine, a few
more repetitions here and there, and some wicked business with tennis balls
under the shoulder-blade, on the floor. Fortunately I can’t do that one alone,
but I’ve approximated it without the tennis balls. Which is cheating. I cheat a
bit on the rowing machine too, but not intentionally, it’s so damned hard to
keep a straight back and be satisfied with less of a pull. ‘Don’t lean back’,
said an itinerant trainer. ‘I’m TRYING not to!’.
Anyway, give or
take that, it’s all going fine, and I’ve even sneaked a bit ahead. Today, I had
a go working with the 5kg weights and I made it, ten presses, even with the
weak arm! Will I ever manage 6kg? I
shall, I shall! Since the squats are my
speciality, I thought I’d up the weight there too. 6 kilos? Disaster! Only when
I disappointedly put the ball back on the rack did I realise: it wasn’t a six,
it was a nine! Pride was assuaged and honour saved.
Such a regime
needs to have little rewards, little treats, so Thursday we went to
Gesundbrünnen, replaced my broken $1000 specs frame with a nice 20 euro one,
lunched at the wonderful Coco’s for a handful of coins, and went clothes
shopping. Something I very, very rarely do! But my new activities call for new
T-shirts (yellow, of course), track-pants, a pair of candystriped
bather-shorts, and some more glamorous undies than my dollar specials from the
Warehouse. Well, I’m parading them (or removing them) in front of all sorts of
dark, bearded, muscular, flat-stomached young gents every day.
Then, Friday, the
biggest treat. Dinner (after gym) at the Katz Orange … with cocktails! Olli’s
wonderful Gold Fashioned and Thyme Goes By, and the delicious twelve-hour pork
with champagne sauerkraut and baked veggies. And, then, a glorious surprise. As
we walked home, Paulie snapped my picture. From BEHIND! When I saw it, I was
staggered. That wasn’t me! I know I’ve lost 4kg in weight already, but … there
was nearly a waist. And the relaxed walk, no more hunched shoulders and body
tension, supporting the weak arm and leg and shoulder. We compared it with a
similar photo he had taken of me last year in Vienna. The difference was
palpable!
As I said, my
chest has fallen down to my waist.
I might be down to
80.6kg, but most of it is somewhere between my ribcage and my genitals.
Today I decided
that I would face this Sumo-type disaster area. As I disrobed in the
locker-room today, Paulie got out his camera. Here is the result.
By the way, guys
in the sauna, some of you had better look out!
Little, incipient pot-bellies, among all the muscles and forestial hair,
at 30 or 40? Yes, I saw. You’ll end up
like me. You will! I was a sylph at 40! And not too bad at 60!
Well, it’s time now
for me to turn from an athlete (!) into a music critic. Slip out of my new gym
clothes and into my old opera-going gear. Tosca
tonight. Fun. And, you know, I think I will leave the stick at home!
Awesome dedication Kurt, loved reading this one!
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