In a shocking pair of shorts

It is a work in progress

There are things I am probably not yet ready to acknowledge about the way my walking as exercise might have changed aspects of my fitness, my girth and my weight. Brian, for instance would protest until the cows come home that I have lost weight and I am looking trim, I would retort with a vehemence that he is only being biased.

I cannot say he has been that much help in an objective manner because only days ago, he acknowledged that my concerns about my weight that he regularly dismissed as inconsequential before I embarked on my walking regime was quite valid. I was looking like I needed to do something, but he was not going to leave me feeling that I must do something until I started to do something about it on my own, for which I have received enthusiastic partner encouragement.

He is perfect beauty

Now, Brian would most likely ask that I slow down, tone it down a little, get some rest, or something along those lines. Obviously, I do not want to harm myself with excessive workouts that I have considered I might need some deep tissue massage.

Conversely, and definitely, not inversely, I do find Brian quite attractive as he also expresses concerns about filling out places that I think are amazingly perfect as if crafted by a sculptor of incomparable talent. There is no excess, he is man-perfect or all-man, as I would tell him, trim and better than Michelangelo’s David, if I added sexy to the description, I have not even begun to give credit to the form and beauty of art that he is.

Maybe there is some bias in my appreciation, I am attracted to trim and slender men, yet, it appears, we both are caught in degrees of body dysmorphia about how we would like to change some things. In all honesty, the work has mostly been on my part to rise from a sedentary lifestyle to one of moderate to intense activity acquiring a level of fitness, especially for my age. Brian is nature’s perfect form, the model for musculature that you will teach your biology and anatomy on.

There are signs, I admit

Getting up this morning, after a long lie-in, I needed to grab something to wear and as I reached out, it was a pair of shorts that I would have strained to get round my waist just over a month ago. They would be called hot pants as to be illicit or even termed indecent dressing in conservative places. They slipped on and fitted with effortless ease, I think we are getting somewhere.

It reminds me of that nursery rhyme as we prepare for the opportunity to meet up soon within our domesticated set up in Cape Town. I, the personification of Jack and he like the wife or vice versa, which is no reference to roles we play for we are both men in a same-sex relationship without any of that heteronormative stereotyping.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.
But, together both,
They licked the platter clean.

That is the story, he is trying to put it on, I am working hard to put it off, however, we have to agree, we love good food. Then despite the occasional subjective view of how I look, I am grateful that Brian is the greatest and best supporter of my quest to fitness.

I am beginning to look quite good for my age from my perspective even if others have arrived at that conclusion long before me. There is still more working out and walking about to do, to get to the body I am happy to stand in front of the mirror and smile at.

Numbering for slumbering

Where is my sleep?

My Huawei Health app in the Sleep quadrant has the curtain drawn with the snooze sign because I did not get the expected amount of sleep overnight. 2:44 hours is just not enough but I could not sleep. I went out in the morning and did just over 6 kilometres and the allotted 10,000 daily steps by the time it was 9:00AM.

I got just over another hour of sleep before having a meal in the afternoon and then setting out for another walk that stretched to 15.06 kilometres and 30,168 steps by 20:24 today. I don’t think I would be doing much more today, I tired enough to have settled in bed to lie down and fall asleep.

Numbers showing effort

In all, I have put in 24.78 kilometres altogether. To think there were months when I did not make 20,000 steps in total and now, I exceeded the 25,000 steps from 2 years ago on Sunday at over 28,000 and today bested it.

What I have noticed is I feel no effects from the walks, however long they are and averaging 22,520 steps a day for this week. Though it is not the numbers that matter, they still give an indication of what effort is going into it and hopefully, the effects would begin to show, not yet on the weight, but the girth is narrowing. That’s progress and good too.

Caught at the end of a long walk

The science of sleep and walking

On the levels of sleep and slumber

My Honor Band 5 tracker has been a revelation of knowledge and science that I hope I will find useful as I find out to utilise the features paired with the Huawei Health app on my phone.

This morning I got a good idea of how I sleep, something I need to study more, but I seemed to have a lot of REM sleep, which explains my usually vivid dreams, just about enough light sleep and definitely not enough deep sleep. The graphical illustration of my kind of night sleep at least put paid to the idea that I am a one-hour sleeper, according to Brian.

There is still much more to learn on the science of sleep, and I cannot draw any conclusions on just one day of data. I will observe the trends and with that hopefully look for ways to improve my quality of sleep. That I was able to get just over 6 hours of sleep with waking up once overnight was quite a surprise.

Every kilometre a sign

Today, I was able to set out my workout plan, or rather document it properly, working with my band, I could chart the route with announcements every kilometre of how long it took and what my heart rate was, mostly in the aerobic and the fat-burning ranges. I was able to get in 16.52 km of walking in 3:17:40 hours and an average of 105 steps per minute for 20,941 steps.

For the day, I got in 22,348 steps and that was just before a trapped nerve signalled its presence in the groin. I did not know that sleep under 3 hours is called a nap. I need to choose a day for complete rest, and I hope I begin to see changes in weight and girth soon too. I could do with a deep sleep tonight and a lie-in for Saturday. On the whole, I am happy, I can do this.

Pressing beyond the strain

Pain on the wane

I am no glutton for punishment but I had to get beyond the pain barrier or the fear of it would lead to fitness recidivism, a kind of practised custom I so easily default to before I see the gains I aim for.

What I really want to do is shed pounds and kilogrammes, I am not counting calories nor following a diet, not that diets or dieticians show much knowledge of global foods especially of my West African cuisine. I follow a commonsense view of moderation, take the good just not to excess.

That means, I love my full milk and real butter, there is no silliness of living the land of skimmed milk and synthetic honey, not what was promised in the Bible and surely, I not taking any less today.

Stalking to a higher step

Yesterday, despite the fact that I was in much pain when I approached the altar for communion, I felt good enough later in the afternoon to add another 13,000 steps to my daily tally to bring my total to 17,705 steps and not a feeling a pain materialised, just a tightening of my thigh muscles knowing some work had been done.

I also skipped the gym yesterday, as it would seem 6 days in a row is good enough, with a day of rest until I was back in the gym today. It was walking to the maximum speed on the treadmill going up by increments of 0.3 km/h every three minutes from 6 km/h to 7.2 km/h and this got me to 2.92 km in 25 minutes.

A few floor exercises and I was done. I will be out for some walking and fresh air later, before retiring for the day. It still feels like fun and long may that continue.

A threshold of pain for more to gain

No aim to maim

Adding the city walks to my exercise routine felt like the way to go from being a hermit into a social being even though socialising is not a safe activity at this time.

My walk yesterday revealed something interesting that I did not pay heed to as I got to over 10,000 steps. I was to keep walking for if I stopped for a moment, muscles under some strain began to cry out in pain around the top of my inner thigh. I was soon home to sleep it off in recovery.

Today, after my workout in the morning, I did some cooking, moin-moin to be exact that I thought of having with jollof rice at a later time.

Meanwhile, I took a nap whilst I thought of having a purposeful walk up to the ethnic foods store up at Cheetham Hill, it is only 3.2 km away, it could be done under an hour, so I set forth. The idea was to walk out and quite a likely walk back.

Left with a hobble

As I left, I took my foldable cane, just in case my exhaustion required some support, prescience or premonition, I am glad I did. For as I neared the shop, I stopped to put on my facemask and that upper thigh pain somewhat radiating from my ball joint arrived with a torrent of discomfort, that the next step after was a hobble.

After that, I had no brisk walk left in me, I looked like I should be in a wheelchair and definitely not out and about. The cane as support when I took steps during my shopping, then the chemist before taking a short walk to the tram stop to convey me back close to home.

My further stop nearer home at St. Peter’s Square was no better, sitting down eased the pain but not when I took my first step. I hoped for some relief back in bed after some paracetamol. My hope is by the morning everything would be fine, those muscles need some rest and they would get enough. I do like walking though, the muscles should get that message too.

Love handles stories with ease

Let’s do love simply

I have ambition, much of it that I want to achieve, yet, even as the Fairy Tales lyrics of Anita Baker become part of my meditation as I walked the treadmill, it was another song playing on my mobile phone and so I was saddened with reality stepping into view. The lady who sang Lead Me Into Love and danced to the Rhythm of Love expecting marital bliss of a future she dreamt of the Men In My Life was sadly with the Wrong Man. [The links are YouTube videos of Anita Baker]

Still, dreams must not die in the story of another, for earlier I read on Twitter of a lavish wedding that presaged a rotten marriage within a year, then the turnaround with another that brought a beautiful marriage beyond an ordinary wedding, from which I got the inspiration for a tweet that spoke my heart and mind.

You know what @Brian07j, we are getting married, we don't need a lavish ceremony, though, if it happens, I am not against it.

What matters the most is our hearts, our love and the future we want to have together, our wedding is a moment, our marriage is a lifetime. I ♥️ U. pic.twitter.com/8wsEITqSnA

— Akin Akíntáyọ̀ 🏳️‍🌈 #European (@forakin) July 30, 2020

Easy as I go

Even so, my mind was beginning to play games with me, being alone in the gym, my hairs were beginning to stand on end for no reason at all. My racing heart knocking on the expected heart rate, I began to rationalise before overdrive made it unbearable and soon even with the incline, my heart rate was coming down.

Back to ambition, the mirror ahead was reflecting the majesty of my love handles looking for a stage to perform a slovenly catwalk, I know eventually it would be Sayonara to them, traipse on the treadmill for as long as you want we are on to goodbye eventually.

Rebecca-Louise was back on form today, I did much more than yesterday, and let’s not go into any more detail. Soon, my 50 minutes were up, a good workout, I am not training for the Olympics, I am just doing fine.

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I paused the video so she could take a rest

Too mule to train

My Brian would love the role of a personal trainer, bless him, but not if I could help it. For one, I respond better to gentle persuasion than instruction. 4 years of secondary boarding school was enough of being ordered around that I was unpersuadable about going to sixth-form school and my mother who was a principal then could have obtained entry to any school of choice, but she could not get between my ears.

Obviously, he has taken interest in my return to the gym, discipline and persistence are rivals to my continuing to the point of seeing benefits. The topic of music for my workout came up again and his suggestion just was far from impressive. Yes, I could say to rowers in Cape Town, “Put your back in it, just a little more.”, God forfend in my sweating exhaustion I play that back to my own hearing to urge myself on. [YouTube:Masters at Work – Work at your leisure.]

My drumsticks hurt

As for calling me chicken as if to dare me, what I decide to do is what I do, names are just that, names. Don’t forget chickens are probably the hardiest and most maltreated animals in the whole, yet they thrive in whatever condition they are in. To be chicken is to have tenacity, the will to live and hold life sacred without unnecessarily courting danger.

I picked up a little more speed in my brisk walk on the treadmill, going at 6 km/h for starters and then up to 6.6 km/h for the last 15 of 25 minutes. I worked up a good sweat. Then moved to the floor exercises, going back to an old favourite Rebecca-Louise Smith on YouTube and she left me in the dust. It would take time. Maybe I should take the advice of a comment. “I paused the video so she could take a rest.”

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Meanwhile, for my workout music, it was Anita Baker which strangely was not on my phone, I had it in the cloud on OneDrive and thankfully, the gym offers free Wi-Fi. To stream directly from the cloud, I use the CloudPlayer Premium app.

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Suffice it to say, by the time my timeslot was up, I was ready to up and leave. Tomorrow is another day.

Right back on the treadmill

Getting up to speed

It is still baby steps at the gym, a process of gradually helping my body adapt to exertion and exercise whilst slowly discovering the muscles and regions of imminent pain I never thought I had.

Brian is somewhat interested in what I am up to as I have now booked 14 50-minute dates at the gym. Most of what I have done is brisk walking for 25 minutes going up to 6.5 km/h and then some floor exercises.

I don’t know if my time slot is quiet or my village community is not that keen on this kind of trouble. The only other visitors have gone to the swimming pool instead. Now, earlier we talked about music to workout to, he just needs some pace and rhythm to work out to whether or not he likes the music. I would playback my music collection of Anita Baker or the Emancipation album of Prince.

The workout was energetic with me breaking a sweat as I reached and maintained the target heart rate, the track that stuck in my memory after the exhausting session, says everything. That’s my only mission, get trim and get him.

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