Pubs and Fitness Clubs

As published in my column 'The Blog Roll' in the March edition of SPORTElizabeth.

These are very, very exciting times for sports fans. We find ourselves spoiled with the brand new (and improved?) Super Rugby competition in which we now have to deal with ‘conferences’ and ‘wild cards’ (please don’t ask) and there is of course the 2011 ICC Cricket World Cup in India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. On the domestic sporting front, we have the Standard Bank Pro20 which reaches its climax on 18 March. And once again, the two finalists will qualify for the very lucrative Champions League. And as if that was not enough, the new Formula One season gets underway in Bahrain on 13 March. Let’s not even mention the ongoing Absa Premiership, The Barclays Premier League, FA Cup, Champions League, the Trinations, the Six Nations which is already underway, the upcoming Rugby World Cup, the IRB Sevens Series (Did you see the Blitzbokke and their superb victory in Las Vegas?) and of course the exciting ongoing battle for world golf supremacy.

So, with all of those fantastic excuses to drink, and the fixture lists for all of these (and more) sporting events printed and kept at hand, I decided I now need an excuse not to drink; if that makes sense. Because, let’s face it, as per the February edition of my Blog Roll, watching sport does make it quite simple to justify spending hours (days) at the bar counter. We know that. To make matters worse, I have just moved to within 400 metres of a pub. Well, I’m sure the stumble home is longer taking into account the zigzag effect. So, what did I do to try and persuade myself to abstain a little? I dragged my small, but developing beer gut off to the newly revamped Profiles Health Club in William Moffett Expressway, and had a chat with the enthusiastic owners, Colin and Helen Mentzel, and just like that – sorted! I hadn’t been into the club for years, and I must say, it really is impressive. So how does all of that curb the hours spent at the pub watching sport? Well, I don’t really know how it works for me, but it does. Maybe it’s the thought of the treadmill with a hangover that puts me off. I know what you’re thinking: It only works for as long as I choose the treadmill over the hangover. Yes, I know, now shut up and let me try this thing. Besides, I didn’t say I’d ‘stop drinking’; I said I would ‘abstain a little’.

Well, what I failed to tell myself is that the acquisition of a gym membership card is not enough if one wishes to get fitter. No. So, the first few sessions I spent around 30 minutes or so, missioning around from the treadmill, to the cross-trainer and if I was feeling particularly energetic, maybe also the cycles. It went really well at first. I fooled myself into thinking that I was super fit because I could do 10 minutes on each of the above-mentioned machines, while hardly breaking a sweat. No, in fact I told myself I was ready for the likes of the Comrades Marathon, and the Spec-Savers Ironman.

Things went well and my new little hobby was simple until I tentatively decided to approach the reception desk and enquire about their ‘Fitmap’ initiative. This is where the wheels fell off. I was introduced to Personal Trainer, Matthew. Matthew very kindly did all the various tests to gauge my (un)fitness and fatness before setting out to compile a training regime for me. I thought to myself, “Bring it! I’m fit, young(ish) and ready for whatever you throw at me.” Well, I can honestly say the ‘activity roster’ Matt so carefully concocted for me involves a helluva lot more than 30 minutes drifting aimlessly between exercise machines. Oh, how I do regret getting that little blue cardboard death sentence from him! Admittedly, Matt did warn me by saying, “I’ve given you a good one. But you’re going to work.” He wasn’t lying. But even in saying so, when I first looked at it, I thought it would be ok. I mean the 35 minutes odd of cardio was only 5 minutes more than I was doing anyway. Easy? And then the various weight-training ‘treats’ looked simple enough at first glance too. I was in for a surprise.

We started on a Thursday; no, not to be subversive or anything, it just happened to be the day that I requested my exercise regime of death. Thursday is arms, cardio and abs day. Well, it’s a 4-day torture timetable and all days involve cardio and abs – just the target muscle group changes. Yes, so Thursday was day one for me. After a quick introduction to the various exercises on my card for Thursday, Matt left me to do my thing.

An hour and a half later, I can sort of remember leaving Profiles, and sort of remember panting goodbye and thank you (?) to Matt as I left. I am not embarrassed to say that there must have been a trail of my sweat all over the place from pretty much 28 minutes into the cardio routine, all over the club to and from every other machine I worked on. I had a towel, but there really is only so much a fabric can absorb before it too starts to expel liquid. I would have given a super-absorbent disposable nappy a problem or two living up to its impressive television advert. At one point I kept thinking there was a family of flies walking down my arm. There were no flies. It was those little beads of sweat. Now that I think of it, I must have looked quite the crackpot swatting at my arm repetitively, before shaking my head in disbelief.

Driving home that night, I was convinced my power-steering had conked out and/or all my tyres were flat. I had to operate my car like a cruise ship and start steering about a kilometre before each turn. I didn’t even bother to indicate as that would involve needing to lift my left hand from where it was resting so comfortably on the steering wheel. Don’t even ask how I changed gears. I might have driven home in first gear. I considered phoning Good Fellas and pretending to be drunk to get a ride home. I had all the symptoms: delirious, weak, confused, dizzy. I was a mess. When he handed me the blue card, Matt wasn’t lying.

As I write this, it has been exactly one week since I signed up for military service, and it is already going much, much better. I am at the point where I can remember leaving the club, and I have purchased a few new, thirstier towels. While driving home I am changing gears and indicating. Matt and I are friends again and I am happy I visited the reception desk that day!
And yes, my new distraction has kept me out of (too much) mischief, which even on its own is good. But then again, as I write this, the Cricket World Cup and the Super Rugby competition are yet to start, and the F1 cars are still parked. By the time you read this though, both the World Cup and Super Rugby will be well underway, and yes, I’ll more than likely be at the pub. I think it’s perfectly fair to reward myself with a match at the pub for every gym session completed at Profiles. Problem solved!

PS: No, I am not going to give any predictions for the Cricket World Cup. Go away.