Stalked

Ok, this is getting freaky now.

I've reached 18% of my fund-raising total (£180 of the £1k - feel free to take a peek at www.justgiving.com/BfpEditor for details of how you can help young men beat prostate cancer ). Things are going well, I thought.

I'm shedding the pounds. I'm putting in the long yards at the gym (and that's just the walk from the car park to the treadmill).

Then today in the post came these...it's like Big Brother has his beady eye on me.

"Get motivated...want a free BodyStat? Your programme is 40% less effective in Week 6 than it was in Week 1."

I know, I know. But how did those bods at Abbeycroft Leisure know that I'd cheated with some crisps and alcohol at the weekend. Have they installed cameras chez moi?

You may therefore spot me huddled in the Abbey Gardens with a broad smile on my lips over the next few weeks. You'll know it's me - but Big Brother won't. I'll be munching on cheese and onion ridge crisps, with a brown paper bag in my hand containing a bottle of something naughty.

And please don't expect me to offer you a crisp - they're ALL MINE!

Missed session

I've found the perfect way to lose the remaining 10 or so pounds and reach my initial target loss of 2 stones (I say 'initial' - you know who has said that my target is about 30kgs by December...)

The easiest way to lose weight? Forget all those diet pills, clubs, points per mouthful - get a 24-hour bug.

Saturday and Sunday in our house resembled a war zone...and meant I had to cry off today's training session.

Smiling Assassin was very understanding though.

"How about we reschedule for Friday."

That made me feel so much better.

Bury Bike Ride

I've mad a bit of a booboo.

The Smiling Assassin regaled me last week with tales of her cycling exploits. I mentioned the Bury Bike Ride to her, thinking she might like to take her family round the short course with me and my clan.

She seemed to go for that - mentioning the words 'racing bike'.

Now the Bury Bike Ride, organised by those nice St Edmund's Wheel chaps Ian, Brian and Steve, has always been a highlight of the calendar for me. There's always a bit of family rivalry - each of my elder sons have crossed the line first and that was a feat I managed last year, too.

But with the Smiling Assassin on a racing bike, I sense it might get messy. She'll be barking out orders on how many revolutions I should be doing, talking about my lack of cadence and no doubt moaning on about active rest when I'm enjoying the Mars bar and banana half way round.

I've said I'll let her have details and the date...would I be struck down if I told her the incorrect Sunday in June?

32 pounds lost!

I never thought losing pounds could be so easy.

I renewed my passport last week. What a great way to lose pounds. Let me explain.

To put it bluntly, I was scammed. Now I consider myself fairly savvy. I know paracetamol home brand tablets are just as good as the trade names. I know to check price comparison sites. Heck, I even have both a Nectar card and a Clubcard for Tesco.

But I was well and truly hoodwinked by what I thought was an official passport site. I'll share it with you so you're not caught, too.

I logged on, Googled passports and went on to an official looking site. They asked for details, passport details and took payment and said my form would be with me in a few days.

It was...and they charged me £32.50...and I imagined that was a reduced rate for paying online. Imagine my shock when I presented the completed form to the nice lady at Bury Post Office and informed her I'd already paid £32.50 of the total.

She very nicely informed me that I'd been taken for a ride by the passport site. I wasn't alone. The site, she said, charges unsuspecting punters £32.50 for sending their details on to the actual passport agency. Nice work if you can get it.

So I still had the full amount to pay - through gritted teeth after the big letters M-U-G appeared above my head.

The moral is to make sure you use the government site...not the one I used. Or better still, walk into the Post Office and pick up a form in person.

Sartorial elegance

Now that I've shed a bit of blubber, I'm minded to think about gym-wear.

It's a bit of a minefield: White shows the sweat and don't go near grey marl. I tend to plump for black.

But is there a bit of leeway for some out-of-the-box thinking?

The above outfit may appear a little 'lightweight' for the gym but it's practical, very slimming and offers superb support.

Might just pop down to those nice people at Intersport in Bury and see if they have it in black...

Active rest

Can I have some clarification, please?

Today's personal trainer session with the Terminator Helen Bye got me to thinking....is it just me she targets with her 'active rest'?

What's that? Well she loves to bang on about it - and it goes something like this.

"Right, give me 12 TRX pull-ups."

Done.

Then there's that bit when you finish the 12 and you just want to rest (well, die) - and she pipes up with some other blinking exercise to do in the 'active rest' period. Then it's into another set of 12 reps (see how the lingo is becoming second nature).

So there is no rest. Nil. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Be honest...you're just pushing me until I cry/pass out/die. Wonder if she'd notice if I collapsed in a heap on the floor? Would that count as active rest?

Happy Birthday!

The temptations come fast and furious in my house in February.

After Valentine's (see earlier post) comes my birthday.

As we hit our mid to late-30s*, the body plays tricks on us and muscles which were supple and lithe as a 20-something, start to malfunction.

It was the most healthy birthday I've had in all my 30-something years. No booze, no chocs, no crisps and no fun. Grilled chicken and cous cous (that stuff's so good they named it twice).

The cake above is for illustrative purposes - I had a satsuma and a little pot of nuts for my treat.

 * Thanks to my eldest for bringing me back to earth with a resounding bump. I mentioned something about the mid to late-30s on Twitter. His reply?

"Yeah, the 1930s..."

Valentine's Day

There was a time (last year, in fact) when Valentine's meant a few drinks, a nice three-course meal out and a few more drinks at home.

Well thanks to my circumstances this year, that's all out of the window.

There will be no alcohol passing my lips tonight, no sumptuous dessert.

Instead, I'll be dropping a few press-ups in front of the TV and trying to perfect my 'plank'.

And where once there were chocolates for my beloved on the big day, I changed that this year.

Instead, my beloved received...a packet of protein-packed edamame beans.

Happy Valentine's Day...

Where did that go?

Momentum is picking up with my sponsorship - thanks for all the pledges.
I had a nice working lunch with Bennett Homes and Crosland Communications on Friday - and a crisp £100 dropped into my justgiving account on Monday morning.
Thanks Edward and the team. You can donate at www/justgiving.com/BfpEditor - I'm 14% on the way to my £1k target.
Lunch with Bennett Homes proved a challenge as they invited me to the Old Cannon Brewery.
There was a wide and delicious menu - including chips, fish pie and goodies galore. I plumped (no pun intended, but I'll take it anyhow) for the herring 'light main'. Very tasty...even through my gritted teeth,
I'd love to say I washed it down with a gooey dessert - I didn't.
And thanks to that and the Smiling Assassin (see earlier), plus Abbeycroft Leisure's fabulous torture chamber (sorry, gym), I've lost over a stone.
Eek!
In a way, I'd hoped exercise, smaller portions, cutting out alcohol, cutting out crisps, cutting out biscuits, cutting out cake, cutting out bread and cutting out pasta and spuds would fail. If it did, I could've said I tried but my metabolism doesn't work properly.
No such luck.
The above has resulted in a 7.5kg loss (one stone, 2.5lbs in old money) and 7cms from my waist. I can use notches on my belt I've only used in the past to hang it up with.
I did ask the Smiling Assassin if - when I reached the magic 2 stone weight loss goal in March - I could call it a day.
Job done. Thanks very much. See you again sometime, Helen.
"No way, Barry," as we made our way over to the boxing punchbag.
A chill came over me.
"We've got the whole year - I reckon we'll target a 30kg loss and have you running soon. Now give me short jabs followed by a big right hook..."
Happily, Helen.

> Those pranksters at the Bury Free Press are so encouraging.
Gawd bless their little cotton socks.
I don't think I've reached this stage quite yet (a nod to Sir Chris Hoy and the Daily Mail) but it's on the wall right, smack bang in my eyeline and gives me something to aim for.
Thanks team...now who's for that night job today?

What are you looking at, punk?

First, there was Ali. He was the greatest - and told everyone so.
He floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee.
I certainly don't float (the walls of Abbeycroft's gym were vibrating when I was forced to jump around today) and I'm not sure I sting (yet).

Then there was Marvellous Marvin Hagler.
I used to watch him decimate other boxers and wonder at his physique. I'll look like him when I do Movember (at least from the chin up...)

I so admired Sugar Ray Leonard. He moved so gracefully. Again, something for me to work at.
A little way to go on that one - most dancefloors clear very quickly when I get moving and a grooving.

And on the big screen, Rocky Balboa won/lost/won/won/won and seemed to have an answer to every boxer who dared to chin him. The Italian Stallion.

Helen introduced me to boxing today - and I loved it.
It was tough, don't get me wrong, and tiring. I'll feel the hurt tomorrow and the next day.
But now all I need is a manly nickname.
Any suggestions?
Barry the Box?
Barry the Bruise?

A little bit crazy

I think I have an addictive personality.
Coffee, chocolate, fishing, squash, Harvey's Bristol Cream, pretzels...I've loved all of those over the years and gone a bit overboard (well, not so much the Bristol Cream).
Now I think the exercise bug is getting a grip of me.
This is how the weekend went:
Friday night: Session at the gym.
Sunday afternoon: Session at the gym, watching Italy beat France on the treadmill TV (sad).
Monday morning: Another personal trainer session with my Smiling Assassin.
I feel like a big hamster on a little wheel...can I stop exercising yet? Please?