Why?

Lets step back about six weeks ...

My journey to realisation started with my bi-annual needlefest. A ten minute attempt to extract blood from my unobliging veins, whilst desperately clinging to the notion that I won't succumb to the Bryson anti lust for blood. The collapse which is ever so close due the feeling of blood that the overly eager for lunch nurse is rapidly trying to syphon from my tourniqeuted limb.

After a week of looking like a junkie who'd forgotten to how shoot up thanks to the bruising at the hands of the NHS, my results were back. Another year of coasting on by with out the need for application, mirroring siblings minus the need for their level of effort. Wasn't that what I'd always done?

In my mind a constant diet of alcohol, restaurant food and a seeming lack of desire for exercise had been off set by my fifteen hour days racing around busy restaurants. Oh how I was wrong!

The game was up. Not quite the death knell you might be expecting, rather a swift upper cut which had dispatched me to the canvas for a count of eight. For any normal human being a safe reading, nothing to be that concerned about. For any one whose family know all about valves, strokes, triple by passes and the anti coagulating properties of aspirin it was a sort sharp alarm clock which I'd been setting to snooze for the last few years!

So what now? A daily diet of prescription drugs from here to eternity? Or a trip to the gym and a radical overhaul of my post service lifestyle? I think you can guess which one the winner is!

Now after two months of stalled and failed attempts, the engine is finally running. 3 stripes are to be strapped on daily, diet must become a way of life, and 3.5 is the target!