What I’m about to describe is the story of how I went from an active, (overly) skinny 16 year old to an incredibly unfit, overweight 25 year old, and what I’m doing about it. Some of you may want to leave now.
Are we sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.
Ten years ago I weighed very little. My Mum once told be that I was “a little bit weedy”. Love you too Mum.
At 16 I was around the six-foot mark and maybe weighed about 55kg wet through (that’s just over 8.5 stone for those still living in the previous Century). I used to walk roughly five miles a day on average, I walked the dog everyday after school and I rode my bike at the weekends. This basically meant that I ate whatever I felt like and never seemed to gain any weight. I also had a nightmare trying to find trousers which fit properly, I had a hard time getting trousers with a 30-inch waist to stay up, which isn’t supposed to be possible when you’re six-feet tall if the availability of suitable jeans was anything to go by.
Then, in the 18-months before I left to go to University I got a part time job, in a Little Chef. This had a number of disadvantages, not least of which that I became less active; I had more money to go out and drink beer, and I got a free meal when I was working – which usually consisted of a cooked breakfast or a burger, with chips, cheese and very little salad. Needless to say finding jeans started to become less of an issue. At one point I put on over 10kg in two months.
At 18 I left home to go to University, this didn’t help matters. Why would I want to go and do exercise when I could go to the pub and watch the football? Drinks flowed and late night visits to the local take-away became the norm. About halfway through Uni I peaked somewhere around the 90kg mark. I was wearing the same size trousers as my Dad – who was a little too happy to highlight the fact that he’d never had the same size waist as his father.
Almost eight years after starting, I’m still at University and I spend most of my day sat behind a desk reading and tapping away at my keyboard punctuated by regular coffee breaks, which usually involve cake, or at least biscuits. However, for a 12 month period I was walking 45 minutes to and from the office every day, and I lost a not insignificant amount of weight very quickly.
Then I joined the university Hiking Club.
My jeans started to get loose and my shirts were hanging off me.
But then I moved house and am no longer living within sensible walking distance. I bought a bike, but that was a lot more like hard work compared to walking, and when the wet weather started to move in and the days got shorter, the bike stayed in the garage.
My weight started to head skywards again.
I had to do something, so I bought a high-tech scale. The first time I used it was a bit of a wake-up call.
I weighed 88.6kg, of which 30.4% was fat, 33.2% muscle, and my visceral fat level was on the borderline between normal and high.
I started to eat a bit better. No more pizza and chips for lunch; I’d have soup instead. My weight started to fall, slowly; a little to slowly for my liking. I bought a cross-trainer. It was a gamble, would I use it? I hate going to the gym; I just can’t stand the atmosphere. If I paid for a gym membership it’d just sit there being neglected? Would the cross-trainer, or would the fact that it was there, in the house, in my face, mean that I used it?
Well, I’ve been using it about four times a week, so I think it’s safe to say that the later is the case.
I started out doing about 15 minutes a day and after 10 weeks I’m quite happily doing 45 minutes a day on the highest setting. I’d say that I’m in the best shape I’ve been in for 10 years, but that wouldn’t really be saying much.
What about my weight? Well, the figures from this morning, 90-days after the first set, read:
Weight: 83.5kg. Fat: 30.4%. Muscle: 37.0%. And my visceral fat had dropped significantly.
I’m by no means lean and I have a long way to go before I’d call myself fit, but I have noticed a huge improvement in my general fitness and people I haven’t seen for a while keep telling me that I “look well” – which I’ve managed to translate to “less fat” – so I guess I’m actually pretty happy with my investment. Even if I am having to buy a whole new wardrobe. Again.