on yer bike...
Writing is not the best occupation for keeping fit. Even pacing the floor trying to think of plot solutions doesn’t really burn up calories, especially if you are pacing the floor trying to think of plot solutions with a packet of garibaldi biscuits in one hand and a cup of builder’s tea in the other!
Hours spent at the computer can lead to a bad back, RSI, strained eyesight, lethargy and an empty biscuit barrel. Not good. There is a definite link between mental health and physical health. The fitter you are, the more clear thinking and alert you are. It’s in a writer’s best interest to exercise, especially when that writer has written a book called ‘Who Ate All The Pies?’ The last thing I want is for kids on a school visit to nudge each other and go: ‘I think we all know the answer to that one, don’t we?’
I’ve been going to the gym for about five years now. I try to go three times a week but it’s more often twice. My target since New Year has been to burn off 400 calories every time I go. It’s very girlie, I know, but I understand calories. Challenging myself to row so many metres means nothing to me.
I start off on the bike in the photograph, if it’s available. I like the fact it has a view to the outside; it means i can pretend I’m cycling through the countryside. The irony is I could be riding through the countryside for real if I knew how to mend a puncture but that’s another story.
So I cycle away on the exercise bike either reading a book or looking at the view. As you can see it’s not a brilliant view but there’s plenty going on. See that little wooden bridge near the furthest tree? Yesterday there was a bunch of schoolkids larking around on the bridge. Four boys and a girl, all about fourteen. The girl was aggro-flirting – you know what I mean – punching and pushing the lads to get their attention. In the end one of them picked her up and held her over the bridge that spans a muddy stream full of water and crisp packets and threatened to drop her in. He knew and she knew and I knew he wouldn’t drop her. While he was doing that a guy who’d just left the gym strode past, raised a warning hand and continued on his way. No words were exchanged but the boy righted the girl immediately. She gave him a thump and the whole thing started again. Another mini adventure right there.
If its not people its grey squirrels. Three of them. They favour the tree nearest to the window, scampering up its trunk with such agility as if to mock me and the others on the other side of the window. ‘Call that exercise, lady? Watch this!’
When I’m really bored ( after six minutes and 35 calories) I test myself on the view. What colour are the cars in the car park? How many windows in the building on the right. What variety of tree? Writers. They never let up.