A slightly shorter than normal sesh today, due to a poorly Giles. He looked like crap when I got there which is appropriate really as he'd apparently been up all night following a dodgy cake at his daughter's school fete.
After discussing the relative merits of bug-induced weight loss we decided that, for the time being, the exercise regime would probably be better, not least as the former would have involved kissing Giles or something. I mean he's a nice bloke and all, but you have to draw the line somewhere.
Today started with (almost) three miles of cycling which would have been easy but for the posture. Giles, you see, is a stickler - and rightly so - for the benefits of keeping your body in the proper position. Given the choice, the body will attempt to find a position where it's easier to turn the pedals / pull down the weight / lift a dumbell but by focusing on blocking that short cut, you force the muscles you're exercising to work that little bit harder. Bloody hurts though but, you know, it's a good hurt...
So, after the bike came the usual crunch sesh, followed by the evil combination device that exercises arms, the chest and the legs, albeit at different times. With Giles twiddling the controls in between disappearing to the smallest room, the machine's hydraulics combine to add resistance on the various exercises. And, as above, it bloody hurts. MInd you, the results have been remarkably quick - and the ensuing endorphin rush has proved quite addictive. The best bit, as well as people noticing the slight reduction in bulk, has been the way it carries over into "real life". After working so hard, you're loathe to snack on the crap stuff. Fruit, frankly, has never looked so attractive.
The big test will come after Wednesday when I hit Copenhagen for a few days of foodie luxury, followed by five nights in Las Vegas. The purpose of that trip is spas, swimming pools and healthy eating. Mind you, seems churlish to get out there and not at get a steak or two, doesn't it? Of course, there is some incentive. Once I return, it's tale of the tape time. And tale of the photograph. And tale of the video footage. Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.