Monday, August 15, 2005
Fit to Drop.
Shamed into physical exercise by over indulgence I blew the cobwebs off my bike and took to the road. Cycling. Nothing quite like it for pumping the blood and stretching the muscles. A nut cracking, finger cramping, vital organ exploder of an exercise. And there is nothing in life quite as hard as cycling uphill. Nothing. Sitting through endless repeats of 'Birds of a Feather' with your eyes sticky-taped open and electric shocks administered to your testicles each time you fail to find Pauline Quirke funny, might run it close - but even that doesn't induce a hot spicy chest of bile sick and a throat-scarifying cough-hackle that feels like you're shredding your lungs with a fork. Only cycling does that. Cycling uphill.