On yer bike

Often people use the f word because it sounds more respectable than saying: “I want to lose weight and look better naked.”

However, on this occasion I mean actual fitness, the ability to do more than five minutes physical exercise without feeling like I am going to die.

My concerns have been growing for some time but they have been brought into sharp focus by an upcoming cycling trip.

This is intended to be a gentle journey as opposed to a high speed challenge over gruelling terrain but it has been so long since I did anything strenuous there is no telling how unfit I may have become in the interim.

I have therefore bought a cycling machine to train myself up.

For years it seems I didn’t have to worry about such things, I could run around playing football for hours, cycle to college and back every day without breaking sweat and occasionally even went to the gym.

Then I went to university and for three years my body was ravaged by takeaways, alcohol and hot chocolates.

Just a few short years later I made the mistake of playing football with some friends.

To begin with we were all scampering about like teenagers but within a quarter of an hour I was bent over double wheezing and spluttering, others were drenched in sweat while another had retired complaining of sore feet.

This issue came up again when I was cycling through Spain although this time I was slightly more prepared so as others raced ahead I opted to hang back and pace myself.

I was at one point overtaken by a woman in her 80s which may have been a sign I was taking my plan to conserve energy a little too far.

Despite my efforts I was quickly shattered and my most shameful moment came when I approached a steep incline and looked shiftily around before getting off and walking up the hill.

I then used the last of my energy reserves to catch up a 60-year-old man and tried to tell him I was bored with the beautiful countryside and used a ploy that never fails when addressing another man.

“Fancy a pint instead?”