Sexercise

I publish my running and cycling activities on a site called Strava, for my less active friends this is a site that shows the people you connect with just what you've been up to exercise wise. I use it when I've been out and can normally bank on getting well into double figure likes, however........

For the last few weeks I've been a lazy bum; its a mixture of, work hours, weather and just a general malaise on my part. I make no excuses about, being injured or such like, I'm just bone idol.
Sunday I thought it would be quite funny to post my weekend activity, sex, yes, sex, yes 53 year olds still 'do it'. Controversial I know but, hey, most people do it, and at my age, boy does it take it out of you. So I thought to myself, that's more of a workout than I've done for a while, so I'm blooming counting that. I squared it with my partner and she chuckled and said, yep that's fine. Its been live on Strava for a day and a bit and has attracted two,  yes two likes.

I can honestly say that I didn't realise just how incredibly prim and proper my friends are. Its either that or they just don't think that's a workout! I can assure you that I worked a bloody site harder than some of the stuff Ive done in the past which attracted lots of likes. But they were real workouts, like running and stuff I hear you cry, yeah right, my heart rate hasn't been as high as it was Saturday for a long time.
So I suppose what I'm trying to say here is, loosen up folk, life is way to short to be serious all the time. It was meant to be funny, treat it as such, please.

Oh, and have a nice Christmas, and don't forget, plenty of exercise. :-)

Alarmed!!!

I leapt from my seat and was just about to make my way smartly to the fire exit, when I realised that the horrendous din ringing out in the cafe wasn't the fire alarm but some blomin woman's ring tone.

Wow, that's a seriously awful noise. Ear piercingly shrill. No melody, no tune, just pure........sound!

HELLO, she bellowed across the room, she didn't need a phone.

Two minutes silence and it sounds again. I half expect the fire brigade to turn up.

She doesn't even look embarrassed, remarkable!

Coffee drank we venture around the store to by some groceries that I need at home.
Forgetting that the car is broken and I've cycled into town I set about buying way more than I can fit in my rucksack, let alone haul home (all up hill I might add). Its when I get to the checkout that it dawns on me about the car........bugger!
Still, think of the strength training.

The Iron lady

The alarm sounds and I rise, sleepy but none the less awake. A quick belch, fart and scratch of the nether regions and Im ready for coffee.
Todays the day of my coached swim session. Im suddenly wide awake at the thought. Should be fun though, I know my coach and know we can laugh while still learning, should be fab.
Coffee drunk I head off to collect her.
She's at the door as I arrive. Blimey, super keen and ready I thought! I should have realised, after getting a text from her 2 minutes before asking if I was on my way, seriously super keen (strict)!
She gets in the car, and suddenly how hard this session is going to be comes into focus.......my coach has her handbag with her!!!!! HER FLIPPING HANDBAG!
Coaches don't carry handbags do they? Mine does. Im really scared now, can I live up to the expectations of a handbag carrying coach, of course I can't, not a chance. She is at least smiling, or is it a laugh, at what she has in store, I will find out soon enough.
Even though I tried driving as slowly as I could to the pool we still arrive much much quicker than I would have liked. I park up and get out.
The passenger door slams shut.
Are you taking the handbag inside? I ask.
Erm....yes, why wouldn't I. comes the reply.
Cos your coaching a swim.
She finds it quite amusing that I should be shocked at someone bringing a handbag to a swim session. She's smiles back at me, or it could be wind, or, more likely, a grimace at the pain she is about to inflict on her lowly subject.

I look to see if I can see the big blue rosette with "Vote Tory" on it, there isn't one, phew.
'What do you want from this session'? She shouts, sorry, asks.
To get out alive I think to myself.
'To improve my breathing technique really, and be a better swimmer please Miss'. I say, whilst backing away touching my forelocks.

 I waft my membership card at the minion on the desk, tell him that Mrs T (not her real name) is here to do a bit of coaching and do I need to pay for her.
No, just make sure she sits on the seating, he replies.
Really, I have to TELL her to do something. I look round into the the steely eyes of my coach.
'He said, him over there...........erm, the chap behind the desk said you have to sit in the seating area'. I duck instinctively for fear of the repercussions.
Tut, comes the reply.
I fear for the desk chaps safety if she ever sees him alone in the street, poor sod.
Well, to cut a short story long the coached swimming session didn't actually happen. Turns out that at Hadleigh swimming pool brining in your own coach/helper/Prime Minister, is frowned upon.
No coaching allowed unless its with our coaches..........Really!
I managed half a length. Membership now cancelled!