A chart displaying the state of my health and fitness during adulthood looks much like a chart showing the waves of a pandemic virus. At 18 I was very fit, but two and a bit years into a smoking habit. So the line on the chart was already headed south. At 26 I quit smoking and got fit in preparation for basic training at RAF Halton. By May 1999, I was the fittest, strongest and healthiest I would ever be. Peak Me. But it didn’t last. I was back on the fags by the end of the year, and the line on the chart went south again.
My mid 30s in Mexico City were spent cycling a hundred kilometres a week and running half marathons. I got fit. But I still smoked. So I didn’t get healthy. This peak was a gentle one. And then I came back to the UK, resumed a sedentary lifestyle and ate pies. And chips. With gravy and HP Brown sauce. I have a trouser belt which documented the process of a widening waist.
My recovery from a mystery virus in late 2019 and the permanent kicking of my nicotine habit pushed the line upwards again. It’s been a slow and gradual rise, but it’s been consistent. I go to the gym a couple of times a week. I swim in the pool. I workout in front of the telly at home with Apple Fitness+. I play tennis. I go for a decent walk most days. I close my fitness rings every day, without fail.
I’ve noticed recently that my lungs seem fully recovered from the virus. Finally. It’s taken 18 months. I can take a full breath. The immune system disorder I have that is attacking my digestive system is under control. I am close to reaching the top of another peak. I won’t get much fitter and healthier than I am today. Ageing joints are the limiting factor now. And age means that the line will head south again. But I’ll try and maintain this peak as long as possible. And make the inevitable decline as gentle as possible, over as many decades as possible.
But yeah. I’m at the top of another peak, and that is worth repeating. It took effort. I have pecs. Solid leg muscles. And a bit of a belly because I’m still at the pies, but we’ll let that slide today. I deserved a reward. So I got some gold trainers to rock up at my gym with and to dazzle fellow tennisters at the courts. Because, why not?
The Mexile 
So your almost back in form. We will never get back to where we would like to be. But here is an attaboy for trying!
Rich
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Well you know what they say, your health is your wealth. It does help though if you have a little something to tide you by for other things. I was out weeding today, it was blistering hot at 5pm. Unfortunately I’m out of shape and my problem is the non smoking version of grass. Now that winter is finally on the wane I will be sauntering a bit more and hopefully shift a few pounds.
So, when did “tennister” become a word? Apparently it is an American surname from Baltimore?
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Tennister is a fantastic word that I invented myself…
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I’m back to what I weighed in my mid twenties, but Gary, it is just not the same, not even in the same solar system. My all round strength is about one third, my quickness is no better than half and let’s not even think about a number for stamina, except maybe pitiful. Mid sixties are when the body does some changes and none of it is pretty. Still, everyday above the sod is a win.
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I’ve got a way to go before I truly suffer the ravages of time. As far as my tennis goes, I’ve rather turned the tables on my opponent. He’s a decade younger, non smoker, gym going chap who eats well. He has always, unsurprisingly, held a substantial edge. I used to have to work hard to stay competitive and just lose by a little. The year following my virus, I got thrashed almost every time.
I’ve got myself back in reasonable shape coming out of the last lockdown. He’s been done in with Covid. I’m up 6-1, 6-3, 2-0.
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