Pedometers, a walk on the wild side….
In a bid to keep the European fat mountain safely ensconced within his reinforced ’mid life crisis’ Levi’s. Alfie Corp has decided to invest in a few ‘pedometers’ and thus aid his single-minded efforts to be able to see his toes again without bending double. Yes, it's the start of the 'TOE-VIEW-2004' campaign..
(The 'WILLY-VIEW' campaign will have to wait until 2005....... or possibly 2006)
We actually bought them in early Summer – but it’s taken 4 months for us to get them out of the brown paper bag and onto our belts.
The leaflet recommends we walk 10,000 steps a day to ensure a healthy cardio vascular workout. Well, that doesn’t seem to be too difficult does it? I mean, how hard is that then – it’s only walking for God’s sake! And anyway, I reckon I’ll probably do around 15, 000 a day – just to ‘put something back’ into the column marked ‘sedentary bastard’… Yep, it must be said, the bit of Alfie’s body under the most duress has been his bum plateau. 8 hours a day of unrelenting bum-on-chair pressure just cannot be good for you can it?
But that’s all in the past, thanks to my pedometer – and last Monday morning was ‘p-day’.
8:00 am. Strap this little baby of super pedometric dynamics to my belt. Set the controls for the start of my run …. (Walk).
9:00 am. My first check on just how many steps I’ve done in the first hour. What do you reckon? 800…1,500, … 2,000? Unfortunately, I’ve put my pedometer on my belt, right under my relaxed stomach muscles. After much huffing and puffing, I manage to heave the living blob that is Alfie’s one-man tribute to the brewing industry, to one side and view the screen. It registers a bland, almost deceased 87 steps. That’s just under one and a half steps per minute. A slow, almost stationary start, I think.
I resolve to walk to the local Spar to get a paper - and bag a scintillating 240 steps. I know that, because I’ve counted them out – and I’ve counted them in…. Back in the office, warm, slightly sweating from the after glow of honest toil, I recover from my workout. I check with my ‘Pedo-Mate’… It’s only registered 150 steps for God’s sake. Obviously, there is a fault. Obviously, I’m not receiving my true step balance quota.
I road test.
Different types of walking.
‘Bouncy’ is good.
‘Swaggering’ is best. But I’m walking like a Liam Gallagher – without having access to his women, money or swearing vocabulary.
I swagger, virtually every step registers… sorted.
By 12 noon, in spite of my most earnest ‘walkaboutalot’ efforts, and suppressing the desire to smack any passing paparazzi, my tally is only up to 658….. Just 9,342 steps to go.
The rest of the day doesn’t really do it, by the time 6pm comes around, I’m 9,000 steps short.
It’s at times like these, inspiration tends to strike the moribund. I decide to do a ‘power-walk’ to ‘who knows where’ and get that steps total to a more impressive level…
8.30pm: Alfie starts ‘power-walking’
9.30pm: Alfie stops ‘power-walking’
9.31pm: Alfie buys his first, well deserved pint of Pendle Witch.
9.32pm: Alfie starts ‘power-drinking’
11.20pm: Alfie blags a lift home through his gift of ‘power-cadging’…….
Tally for day one – 6,500 steps and two strained thighs.
Walking is a lot harder than I thought it would be.