As the Joker would say, "Riddle me this batman...."
I was never a star athlete or in peak physical condition, but I exercised quite a bit.
I played some rugby in high school and college, and play soccer regularly now for a recreational team, but my fitness has gone to heck since having child number 2.
Before Gemma was born, I was considering training for a marathon. Over the year before my youngest daughter blessed us with her presence, I lost approximately 15lbs and was running almost daily either outside or on the treadmill in our basement. I even had wireless tv headphones so I could listen to the TV while running, and not have to worry about the treadmill noise. I looked ridiculous running with those headphones on, but I loved doing 30 mins on the treadmill while watching an episode of "The Mentalist," and let me tell you, when your legs are burning on the treadmill, there is nothing more motivating than watching a 300lb woman busting her behind running on "The Biggest Loser." Of course without TV, I am reduced to
Anyway, I used to get up at approximately 6am, run for half an hour, then shower, and be ready for work at 7am which is when Marisa and Henry were awake. Well, after a while, Henry started getting up early and coming to "help" me on the treadmill. He either wanted to climb on the treadmill or pull me off it. This made exercising difficult.
Then in February came Gemma, who, as typical babies do, let us know she was still alive every 2-3 hours by waking up and screaming. This made it extremely difficult to get any exercise routine going. especially when Henry was awoken by Gemma at 5am and
chose not to go to bed.
I could exercise at night, but to quite frank, once the kids are put to bed at 8.30pm, after a long day, all I want to do is relax and read or surf the web. If I run after 9pm, it is impossible to get to sleep before 11.30pm, not good if you have 2 kids under 2 who like to be up at night or early in the morning.
So, I am slowly piling the weight back on. I still play football every couple of weeks, but that is not quite enough. This week playing football (soccer to you yanks) I was struggling through the game, although I was not helped by a flying headbutt to my chest, knocking me on my arse. It was an accident, caused by a guy who was trying to tackle me slipping while running at me at full speed. My peck, or as Henry calls it "Daddy's boob boob" still hurts. You can tell what great shape I am in by the fact that little H calls my chest "boob boobs."
Henry, on the other hand, is a treadmill expert. My 23 month old can run, walk and even moonwalk on the treadmill. Ok, he can't moonwalk, but that was my obligatory Michael Jackson mention that is required to be in every piece of media this week. Henry loves the treadmill. It is his 3rd most expensive toy behind my watch and the minivan, both of which he plays with consistently.
I will come up with a plan, I just don't know what it will be. Just another challenge of being a Dad!!
I was never a star athlete or in peak physical condition, but I exercised quite a bit.
I played some rugby in high school and college, and play soccer regularly now for a recreational team, but my fitness has gone to heck since having child number 2.
Before Gemma was born, I was considering training for a marathon. Over the year before my youngest daughter blessed us with her presence, I lost approximately 15lbs and was running almost daily either outside or on the treadmill in our basement. I even had wireless tv headphones so I could listen to the TV while running, and not have to worry about the treadmill noise. I looked ridiculous running with those headphones on, but I loved doing 30 mins on the treadmill while watching an episode of "The Mentalist," and let me tell you, when your legs are burning on the treadmill, there is nothing more motivating than watching a 300lb woman busting her behind running on "The Biggest Loser." Of course without TV, I am reduced to
Anyway, I used to get up at approximately 6am, run for half an hour, then shower, and be ready for work at 7am which is when Marisa and Henry were awake. Well, after a while, Henry started getting up early and coming to "help" me on the treadmill. He either wanted to climb on the treadmill or pull me off it. This made exercising difficult.
Then in February came Gemma, who, as typical babies do, let us know she was still alive every 2-3 hours by waking up and screaming. This made it extremely difficult to get any exercise routine going. especially when Henry was awoken by Gemma at 5am and
chose not to go to bed.I could exercise at night, but to quite frank, once the kids are put to bed at 8.30pm, after a long day, all I want to do is relax and read or surf the web. If I run after 9pm, it is impossible to get to sleep before 11.30pm, not good if you have 2 kids under 2 who like to be up at night or early in the morning.
So, I am slowly piling the weight back on. I still play football every couple of weeks, but that is not quite enough. This week playing football (soccer to you yanks) I was struggling through the game, although I was not helped by a flying headbutt to my chest, knocking me on my arse. It was an accident, caused by a guy who was trying to tackle me slipping while running at me at full speed. My peck, or as Henry calls it "Daddy's boob boob" still hurts. You can tell what great shape I am in by the fact that little H calls my chest "boob boobs."
Henry, on the other hand, is a treadmill expert. My 23 month old can run, walk and even moonwalk on the treadmill. Ok, he can't moonwalk, but that was my obligatory Michael Jackson mention that is required to be in every piece of media this week. Henry loves the treadmill. It is his 3rd most expensive toy behind my watch and the minivan, both of which he plays with consistently.
I will come up with a plan, I just don't know what it will be. Just another challenge of being a Dad!!
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