Fitness Stu - now with added urine

Well apparently Sunday night is Blog night. Which would make Tuesday fried-liver night, and Thursday Chub night. Mmm chub.

Every year or so, after much lobbying by my internal organs, I go on a health-kick. This so-called 'kick' lasts approximately 2-34 days - the exact point of enthusiasm-meltdown is hard to pin down. But it will come, don't you worry. KFC isn't about to lose my business on a permanent basis, oh-no. I'll be back soaking my batter-covered chicken fat in oily scrapings they call 'gravy' in no time. Until then, be wowed by the new, invigorated Stu - high on endorphins and other fallacies.

First I considered running again. Back in primary school I was the running king. No-one could beat me. Yknow that kid who was the fastest and everyone knew he'd just win stuff? Yep, me. What can I say, I just had longer legs. Those short-asses ate my dust and the girls loved me for it. Those were the days... the medals, the congratulatory handshakes, the kisses behind the bike shed - I had it all.

While I didn't receive too many athletes acolades in High school, one particular instance springs to mind. It was a hot summers day, twas the day of the Ringwood High Fun Run (and you thought the latter two words were mutually exclusive). Essentially its a long distance run the whole school partakes in, split up by year level. The whole thing takes about 30-45 minutes, with the jocks coming in first, and the cool girls who walk their way around coming in a fashionable last.

Anyways! A few of us had made a habit of avoiding the teacher sentries and heading down to a local Hungry Jacks at lunchtimes.This was highly frowned upon at our school, and there were penalties in place for those who were caught. It just so happened this eating hole wasnt so far from halfway around the running course and we needed our Whopper with Cheese.

Round the first bend then into some bushes - we ran along an old path and headed straight to Hungers. Mmm... boiled meat. We kind of lost track of time, and thought 'oh shit, we're late!' Sprinting back, bacon and cheese flowing through our veins, we discreetly appeared back on course just before the last turn without anyone being the wiser. We hit the finish line and were congratulated by the headmaster - we'd come 4th & 5th places! Quickly wiping the ranch sauce off our faces, we humbly accepted prizes. I'm sure somewhere there was a jock who had been training for weeks, and was crying after some lame-o's beat him. Train smarter not harder jocko.

Moving on, I hit 23 years of age. Maybe because of all the extra running my childhood legs had to endure, but it seems my shins these days be farked. Running long distances seems to aggravate them and I realise I'm just a triple jump out of the grave. Lifes a bitch and then you die right?

So running is a no-no. Swimming I can handle. Nothing like voluteering to swallow 2 litres of pool water. Particularly after a 'Water Aerobics for the Incontinent' class has just been held. Seriously, there is that much urine in our local pool, you could
high on the acidic tile scum. Hmmm... now theres an idea!