The Ponderings of a Middle Age Comeback

The imminent arrival of child number 1 has recently had me thinking that I need to improve my health if I wish to be around to see them grow up.

The desire to guide them on a path of happiness, honesty, integrity, social conscience, and success in all its forms whilst sheltering them from any undesirable traits potentially inherited from relatives or learned from an inappropriate environment is an overwhelming driver.

So to, is the more self serving motivation of basking in the reflection of their success and happiness as they grow, safe in the knowledge that the person I will love more than anyone else in the world, has been provided with a good grounding for their life ahead by me their loving parent.

But for that I have to make sure that I am around for them.

Combine that fear with some recent serious health scares for some friends of a similar age and I think I may, for the first time, be completely genuine in my attempt at achieving a healthier existence.

I have rarely been genuinely fit in my life and certainly not for at least a decade – perhaps even two, but I have certainly been healthier. A lot healthier!

I used to eat better and exercise a hell of a lot more. An extremely modest amateur sportsman at best, I nevertheless played several sports socially as well as at organised clubs. Cricket, several codes of football, hockey, basketball, squash, golf, swimming and surfing have all been part of a regularly active lifestyle at various stages.

In recent times, age, crumbling knees, a dodgy back, Friday Night drinks, a larger TV, a more comfortable couch and the onset of middle age lethargy have reduced my physical output to dog walking, the very occasional gym visit and the requisite handyman type activities that accompany home ownership. 

It has become plainly obvious to me and to others (even those too polite to mention it) that this is simply not enough to maintain, yet improve, my current state of health.

But, I am now making an effort. Finally, after who knows how many years and how many failed attempts at fitness, I am on my way- and not because of some drunkenly proclaimed, half serious, New Year’s resolution but because I love my wife and as yet unborn child and I know that I need to do what is right by them.

Perhaps it is a clarity promoted by impending fatherhood, perhaps by the increasingly frustrating shopping excursions for new clothes or perhaps it is just that it is the right time? Whatever the reason the long journey back has begun and I have discovered that it is a very long, very slow, very difficult and most treacherous path that lies ahead.    

This weekend I am playing my 2^nd game in the return to a modest, suburban cricket career that had neither faded away with the grace of an elder statesman nor shone brightly before suddenly disappearing in controversy or tragedy as so often happens with famous (or infamous) sports stars.

My cricket career had just paused. Nothing more than a break for a few games that had extended to a few more games which had in turn, extended into a whole season and then to a few years. Inevitably, as life carries on some things are simply left behind.

Last weekend’s return to action in a Twenty20 game, was something of a disappointment and yet still a positive. The realisation of exactly how far there was to go in my journey was emphasised after a couple of chases to the long boundary which in turn was compounded by my cheap dismissal and a poor batting performance by the whole team overall that resulted in an unsatisfactory  loss whilst chasing down a very moderate and most definitely achievable, total.

However, the assuredness that I felt during my short, 9 ball innings before being run out and during my (again, short) 2 over, bowling spell was welcoming, given that I had anticipated worst case scenarios across the board.

Less welcoming were the freezing ice packs required for my knees after the game and the tender manner in which I disembarked from bed the next morning.

A couple more evenings of ice packs and anti inflammatory cream during the week and I find that I’m again ready to go. Hopefully this weekend will see change in the fortunes for the team and myself but I’m not expecting any change in the recovery process or overall health................................yet!

My Wife’s Puppies

I bought my wife a lovely pair of puppies in July 2009. Initially, I was only going to pay for one - but I’ll get back to that. It was a decision that was born out of my love for her and my desire to make her happy in any way I could but it was also a decision made with a high degree of naivety on my part.

We had been living together for about 4 years (god, I hope that’s right) and married for 3 months and my lovely wife had decided in her heart of hearts that she wanted a puppy more than anything else in the world. It won’t surprise anyone to know that in hindsight, it was an obvious, subconscious decision on her part that we were ready to have children - but at that time she had yet to admit it to herself and I was (as always) oblivious to any such signals.

Despite my initial reservation about whether we would be good enough dog owners, I inevitably succumbed and decided to surprise my wife with a puppy for her birthday in two month’s time but was torn as to the choice of breed. I did not want to be associated with some little, miniature, carry around in your handbag, thing but I also recognised that we would be unable to take care of a large, active dog due to the vagaries of work schedules, yard size and lifestyle.

I did my research and narrowed the options down to either a Boston Terrier or a Pugalier, a cross between a Pug and a King Charles Cavalier, on the basis of several practical selection criteria. Uneasy with the responsibility of making a direct choice between the two, I managed to ever so surreptitiously gain my wife’s opinions on several breeds of dogs which led to the very quick exclusion of my preferred choice, the Boston Terrier due to “terminal ugliness”.

Armed with a decision on a preferred breed of dog, I still had to select a compatible individual so I decided to arrange a surprise visit to the relevant Breeder/Pet Store for my wife to make her choice.

Now I don’t know if it was mere coincidence or a ruthlessly sneaky sales tactic on the part of the freckled, 16 year old, trainee, sales girl at the Pet Shop, but once we decided that we were getting a male puppy, she brought out two from the same litter for us to choose between.

I can’t clearly recall what happened next but at some point toward the end of our discussion with the freckled, 16 year old, sales savant I paid for two Pugalier pups, a basket, food, bowls, chew toys, toilet training mats and anything else that comes as a puppy ownership accessory.

Once we arrived home I sat down my wife and had the same discussion that I’m sure parents have with their children about the responsibilities of pet ownership such as who would feed them, walk them, clean up their poop, train them etc, knowing full well that it would be left to them. I was confident however, that once we established the ground rules all would be fine - after all I wasn’t dealing with a child but an adult. The same rational, intelligent, adult that acts as a voice of reason when we discuss household finances, activities, renovations et al.

Suffice to say that my continued  naivety was deservedly punished as not only did I undertake the puppy training, feeding, walking and poop collecting but my pronouncement that the dogs would remain outside, whilst not met with any discord, was seemingly ignored as though it was never made – despite the fact that I had to spend days preparing and “puppy proofing” the yard for the new additions to our family.

In the 18 months since, our home has gone through the requisite cyclonic activity that is raising a couple of youngsters, whether they be canine or human. Teething, toilet training, increased curiosity, sulking, the desire to explore, digging under fences, chewing furniture we have dealt with the full array of issues and we have managed to survive.

If the truth be told, I am just as fond of our dogs Sparky and Zizou as my wife is, and despite some initial fears about how they would behave and our capability to look after them, I am very glad that we decided to get them.

It’s just as well really, we’re expecting our first child in a couple of weeks and as we prepare I can’t help but think that there are a lot of similarities....