Ten Squats

 

Well, we’re into August already. My October Aberfoyle training week may hold up if this easing of the so-called lockdown and restrictions continues. Aunt Aggie has weathered the whole debacle fairly well. She has just finished a sherry trifle wearing her hairnet. Like Nicola, she insists that I maintain mask wearing. She says it gives everyone’s eyes a rest.

After a 3 week course in core training off the Youtube, I have paid thirty quid to rejoin the gym for a month. With a further modest reduction in weight, I have reverted to pushing, squatting and pressing in order to save my chest caving in altogether and in the hope of building some muscle density. I confess that on the first session I could only manage 10 squats with 20kg. When I stepped forward for a second set, I could barely walk such was the acute contraction in my inner thighs. Today I managed 3 setts of 15, so something must be improving.  With my spindly concave chest and spider like legs, I admit that I do cut a strange figure amongst the heaving mass of puffed up bodybuilders. 

I have the North East Track champs on the 21^st when I have entered myself for the 1500m. There’s a joke in there somewhere.  My names also down for the relays a week later although I’m not at all sure that we’ll manage to assemble a 4 man squad.  Its then up to Perth for the Festival 10k. What a busy calendar I hear you say. I'm already trawling the various fixtures for September. I have already spotted the Eildon hill race and one or two trail races. 

I was up in Glasgow a fortnight ago and me and Speedy Joe ventured out for a sharp 3 miler before dinner. Running along toward Scotstoun we ran past a huge puddle at the side of the road, a result of the recent deluges. As we passed the unnamed reservoir of murky water, a silver audi drove at high speed through the pond and we were caught in a huge spraying wave of clag. Speedy Joe was miffed, but I could only laugh. This demonstrates that my 'weight loss no carbs except beer and chips' diet has gone too far and has, perhaps, began to affect my mental status.

In between training runs, I have hammered through Asimovs Foundation (nothing to do with make up), the gritty Garnethill by Denise Mina, Brett Easton Ellis’s rather disturbing 90’s novel American Psycho and Robert Harris’s compelling novel Munich.  I attempted The Sickness by Tyszka, rather a deviation from the recent genre of fiction. It had positive reviews, but after a spirited effort, I’ve binned it half way through in favour of My Crimbo pressie The Great Swindle by Pierre Lemaitre.  

The weather's gone all autumnal with the thermometer falling below 20 and with the days shortening, I will need to make the most of the remaining season. but then again, there's always the cross country season.