Tag: muscle

Fat Bastard

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

I was going to talk about something serious, intellectual and philosophical. Minds would be blown by the insights, people would never be the same afterwards, life would forever be viewed through the lens of a new prism previously unknown to exist. Prior to the moment of world changing magic though I made the fatal error of some self-indulgence on one of these health and fitness websites. It appears I’m not healthy. There is something called a Basal Metabolic Rate or BMR for those in the industry. It is a way to see you metabolic age which apparently peaks at about seventeen years old and is basically a good indicator of our bodies actual age. It turns out mine is thirty-nine years old and unfortunately according to the Gregorian Calendar that is not an age I will reach for another five years. It appears all those feelings of aches and pains actually mean something other than I’m just soft, like to complain and feel sorry for myself. I am just soft, like to complain and feel sorry for myself clearly as evidenced by this piece but it’s not always nice to be proved right when it means I’m proving I’m not in good shape. Apparently I need more exercise, sleep and leaner proteins.

I also discovered I have a Body Mass Index (BMI) of 26 which means I am ever so slightly overweight. I am though 14.5 stone, 90 kilograms or 200 pounds depending on where you’re from, and six foot three or one metre eighty-eight also depending where you’re from. I’m a reasonably big man, and recently I’ve been trying to build a little more muscle, not much but a little. What does this mean for my BMI then? Muscle is heavier than fat, so how can I be sure whether I am overweight or just putting on more muscle? That has always been my issue with things like BMI and why all of these things needn’t be taken too seriously or dogmatically. Apparently I should ideally weigh between 10.8 – 13.7 stone, 68 – 87 kilograms or 152-192 pounds, but after being ill for three weeks once in India I weighed 68 kilos, I could see ribs in my back. I was not healthy. This isn’t me making excuses, I know my little tummy could be shrunk back but I don’t agree with their description of a healthy weight.

The final one was body fat but I couldn’t be bothered to make the effort to measure my waist and hips just to discover what I already know. So I need to lose a little weight and become a little healthier. I wouldn’t say I’m unhealthy but clearly I can’t say I’m healthy either. Ultimately though as I suggested earlier I take these things with a pinch of salt and not a serious pinch at that either. As a species we’re not healthy. We may have eradicated poverty in a lot of the western world but we’re all addicted to at least a few consumables like sugar, salt and fat. It’s good to get a little shot of drive to give me that little boost to continue my exercise and better diet. I’m just sore all the time and tired with it. I am thirty-nine after all, it’s all part of getting old. Saying that at this rate I’ll probably be in my mid forties by this time next year.

Resolutions Update 2.0

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

Part of my resolutions are about to begin. My friend owns some exercise equipment and I’m going to use some ski machine thing I think, or at least something which he says is going to probably make me sick from the twenty minutes of effort I have promised him. The reason sick is actually a good thing for once is that as a result of my attempts at beer making I have not been too far from the toilet these last few days. If this continues I may be writing a piece soon detailing a salt water cleanse, or at least the benefits of it, over the intimate details of the procedure. My friend also drank the beers on Saturday but was sick on Sunday and seemingly felt better after. I unfortunately trained myself when younger not to be sick which can be good when drinking and smoking excessively but along closing the heart chakra apparently, which is perhaps a story for another time, it does mean that my body doesn’t necessarily expel poisons by vomiting in times it should. This attempt at doing some crazy amount of exercise when already feeling a bit weak and ill is completely the most ridiculously illogical approach and reminiscent of tv series from my youth like Jackass or Dirty Sanchez. I am though willing to give it a shot because while I doubt it’ll actually make my sick, I know it is at least an opportunity at making a start on my resolutions and I’ve passed up on far too many chances already. I am though losing weight by being ill so at least the belly is slightly shrinking. Does that mean I am inadvertently sticking to my resolutions? Only in the most perverse of ways. I also accept fully that nothing I say in any articles after this one can be taken with any seriousness and I may have completely destroyed any sense of credibility I have had the good fortune to acquire these last two months. But fuck it, here goes nothing….

…If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs is a line from a poem by Wilfred Owen about the folly of patriotic war and death, this line about the effects of chlorine gas during the First World War. It feels comparable to what I can taste in my mouth now. That old familiar taste of iron. The stabbing sensation in the ears and the throbbing of the head. My legs feel like jelly and either I’ve got cramp or I’ve hurt my hamstring but I completed twenty whole minutes of surprisingly gruelling exercise skiing, running with some bag on my back, lifting some heavy ball repeatedly and doing push ups. I didn’t vomit, I knew I never would despite the silliness of the first paragraph. I should be proud of myself apparently. I’ll let you know tomorrow if I manage to scrape myself off the floor.