Dadding in the year of COVID was the perfect storm of ceasing to gym, both due to COVID lockdowns and fear, also because fitting the needs of caring for Baby V does cause a bit of an impact to the old calendar meaning less time for exercise – for me anyway. That combined with an enduring love of an ale or two, and what had been naturally occurring under the guise of middle-aged spread already, accelerated into quite the Dad Bod.
The Good Wife (#TGW) finally snapped and I was enrolled into F45 (#F45NorthSydney). Being in my mid-forties, but also being male, I chose not to check in with the doc before getting stuck in and have definitely played a bit of Russian roulette with the statisticians over middle aged men returning to fitness only to be somewhat hampered by a cardiac episode. Fortunately good reader, I have not thus far suffered a coronary.
Now fitting F45 into the timetable, with Baby V turning one, became a bit easier; I wouldn’t say we had mastered parenting, however TGW and I, allied to a bit of teamwork, have managed to accommodate each others fitness needs into the daily schedule.
I’m not spruiking F45, but I have to say I like it – visiting my old gym would largely entail watching personal trainers boss people off the equipment and when finally managing to secure a machine, it would be a bit too easy to only manage three sets of 12 “whatever’s” in about 10 minutes. F45 is gyming in turbo-mode; no messing about, in you go, crack out whatever brutal exercise circuit the maniac back at HQ has dreamt up and 45 minutes later you saunter (zombie stagger) out the gym and get on with your day.
With Christmas and New Year having come and gone, as has a brief holiday up the coast of NSW, Dad Bod is prime. We’re not talking can’t see feet or anything, but there is a certain tightness to waistbands where once there was not and a glimpse in the mirror also tells a moderately dispiriting story.
The commitment then: the 45 day challenge. I shall document my efforts as best I can, but the aim is largely to rebase the approach to living I have slumped into; not enough exercise (though much better since TGW cracked the whip), a few too many takeaways and more pub visits than strictly necessary.
45 Days – not a daunting amount of time; I plan to attend at least four F45 classes a week across this time; I intend to eat far healthier meals, and I am aiming to cut down on the grog (ideally to eliminate it, however, at the very least I have a bucks to fit into the time period, so a cheat day here or there will be thrown in).
So … wish me luck!