Fit in my 50s

Going to the doctor at my age is like popping into the supermarket for just a pint of milk and coming out with a selection of things you previously hadn’t planned on having. So it was this week when I visited my GP for a quick checkup on my toe prior to an ingrown toenail procedure at the hospital. Everything was fine with the toe, but we didn’t idle long in the podiatry aisle of my imaginary supermarket of ailments, oh no. The doc decided we ought to do some browsing and so together we wandered down the cardiology aisle before visiting the endocrinology aisle then moving on to the neurology aisle. Fortunately nothing on the shelves caught her eye, until we reached the dietetics aisle where she pulled an item from one of the shelves. She had clearly noticed that i am one or two, or more, pounds over my fighting weight, and the item she handed me to take with me from the store was a diet. A low Carb, High Fat Diet (LCHF) with online information and support to go along with it.   ...

I don’t necessarily think that the universe is conspiring against me, but it did feel that way on occasion last week. On two different days I was faced with work based buffets heavily laced with nothing but refined carbs and sugars, with the thinnest slivers of processed meats or plastic cheese in-between with lashings of margarine and mayonnaise. One of these buffet lunches was served up at a health and wellbeing conference, for crying out loud. Frozen chips, frozen mini pizzas and cake. The irony was certainly not lost on me. Lesson learnt, I will ensure I take a packed lunch with me from now on. My bike remains very clean. It was not used in anger once last week. There are so many excuses to be made for not getting out and riding, but just as many very good reasons to do so, not least of all the small matter of 1414kms awaiting me this summer. In my defence, the weekend was very busy. What with judgement day and finals day, there were five rugby matches on the telly which meant d...