Food & Drink -- 6 days ago
Words: Patrick Tillard
Generally speaking, I consider myself an everyday man. I have a 9-6 job, in which I spend most of my time glued to an office chair staring intently at a computer screen. I earn an average London wage, and live life within the confines allowed once I’ve been pillaged by rent and council tax. I’m healthy-ish, in so much that I have no chronically exigent diseases cruising through my veins that I know of. I do my bit to keep fit; the odd run, a press up here and there, a few gym sessions a month, and some tennis or golf at the weekends. I like my food, sometimes fast – this includes carbs and the odd binge on a Sunday evening, which may entail enough sugar to induce the heart rate of a hummingbird. I like a few beers during the week, especially if the sun is making an extended outing, and when occasion comes knocking I like to enjoy my weekends.
So, nothing out the ordinary – there’s probably thousands of you out there with a certain degree of relation to my state. We are the everyday men. We appreciate that we’re never going to have a body akin to the main men in Magic Mike – in fact, many of us may have started swaying dangerously close towards the Jeremy Clarkson-esque figure. You may be perfectly happy with this slight rotundness, which comes as a prerequisite when giving no carbs before Marbs a wide berth. You like what you see in the mirror and that’s fine.
However, if, like me, you’ve entertained the notion of getting into shape – something that the summer months can imbue – you’ll appreciate that it isn’t a walk in the park.
It goes without saying that being in serious shape (you know the gym bunnies I’m talking about, with trunks for arms and abs like a xylophone), is something of a full-time job. Hours crunching weights, regular protein shakes, a stringent diet and the will power to reject pub offers on days ending in y.
But what the heck, I thought I’d give it a shot, this getting into shape thing. However I had no intention of parting ways with my everyday lifestyle, rather I set out to fine tune it. And by I, I mean Jane Kalgan, my personal trainer, who would be keeping tabs on my progress – or lack thereof.
The aim was to keep it realistic – an everyday man’s workout. Two months, without spending an exuberant amount of money, and not having to give up my social life. How hard can it be?
