The first of my problems is in defining which Pec I'm talking about. My Czech readership may justifiably think I have had a mishap at a Ski resort, whilst the twitchers amongst you would have wondered what migratory mishaps the Pectoral Sandpiper has now found itself in. The fitness fans in the audience would have automatically and correctly pictured an Atlas-esk figure with a chiseled chest. Therin lies the first problem. At what point do they stop being man-boobs and become worthy of that desireable noun?
In the context of a muscle problem I have perhaps I should refer to my right pectoral major.
Last night I went to bed last night looking forward to the warm glow in the morning after the chest press exercises I had done followed by plenty of swimming and some press ups in the subsequent 24 hours. When I awoke this morning I found that Lefty was feeling good, perhaps a little ache but just to join in with Righty* who was not happy at all. Fighting for more attention than a monkeyless duaghter at bedtime and more restricted than the large lady I saw at softplay it has really been unpleasant. I'm hoping Ibprofen gel and red wine will help it. I have recently discovered that my wife and Fletch have agreed to split the task of rubbing it better.
A cycle this evening to Newlands Corner on the newly steerable bike was good, a road was closed so I turned round and went back up a nice hill before deciding I should try and fight my way through. The reason for this is that I was keen to use that route as a good yardstick for progress for me on my bike. About 20 miles with some good elevation and relatively clear roads for North Surrey, I'd like to see it done in under an hour before I go for a run (eventually). I managed to get through but it involved portage and some angry workmen so I need a new route now. Overall I did about 25 miles and found THE hill easier than last time and despite the wet when coming down had more confidence.
At one point I think my sense of fun overtook my sense of personal safety before I saw I was approaching some wet leaves. My fingers leapt for the break instinctively but by applying some serious will power found myself easily taking the corner. The over confidence meant that I unintentionally got the back end out at some traffic lights shortly afterwards which was a little thrilling. On to the long winding gentle downhill I stuck to the drier middle of the road. A beeping horn at one point revealed an impatient BMW who I then kept pace with till my legs remembered that they aren't mechanical and returned to enjoying the ride.
Dinner burning got to go. x
*Yeah so I have given my pecs names, guess what else has names.
No comments:
Post a Comment