Korean Training: The Mind and The Body.

A few days had passed since my intense, intensive training and my mind felt as sharp as a wooden spoon. But it began to dawn on me that for all the cognitive workouts I was getting, I had neglected by body for too long. My body! That thing which my worldy wise brain relied upon to get from place to place spreading knowledge to all and illuminating the darkest corners of ignorance with the light of my insights.

In fact it had been eight long years since I did any regular exercise or set foot in a gym. I knew this feeling of shame well. I had had the same thoughts at the seven year mark, but pushed the concerns deep into the corners of my psyche and then drowned them with fine wine and Guatemalan rum.

Only this time there was no fine wine to hand and the Korean corner shops selection of South American aged rums was frankly a disgrace.

More worryingly I was surrounded by teachers who worked out. Eddie was and is a gym addict. He is named Eddie due to a love of Iron Maiden who you might not (but probably should) know have a massive monster called Eddie as a mascot.
Eddie was leaving soon, but I had been subjected to seeing his dedication for nearly three months and he was not the only one.

Blancquita was often to be found in the gym. Dubs had just joined Eddies gym and fucking Little Spoon had only last week run a half marathon with Korean soldiers! I have long prided myself on my lethargy and general disdain for anything that hints at hard work, but enough was enough.

I was going to join the gym. Soon my body would reflect my mind; a hulking powerhouse of super human agility and speed. But before I had even put pen to paper at the gym, I made an important phone call.

Little Spoon: "Hello"

Me: "Ah hello Little Spoon what do you want?"

Little Spoon: "You called me idiot, and stop calling me Little Spoon."

Me: "Ah yes...so I did, and no I wont stop. I rang you to challenge you to a race. I'm going to race you Little Spoon and I'm going to defeat you."

Laughter was coming out of my phone. How odd, perhaps it was a crossed line or maybe she was watching a particularly amusing episode of a Korean soap opera.

Little Spoon: "You don't do any exercise, you probably can't even run, I run 7 or 8 miles a day, sure come running with me."

Unbelievably she had been laughing at me! I didn't like the cut of her jib and I told her so...

Me: "I don't like the cut of your jib Little Spoon, but I will buy some new trainers or 'sneakers' as you barbarians call them and I will do a quick fitness test at the gym and then I'll prepare to race you and destroy you"

The challenge was set. On the face of it a person who runs daily, just ran a half marathon with apparent ease and a man who hasn't jogged in eight years and drinks far too much would not be much of a contest. But I was confident my body had simply kept itself honed and ready for action over these recent indolent times.

I hit the gym hard. I was going to run first to see how many miles I would speed through in twenty-five minutes and then pump some serious iron to make sure the guns were still firing.

Fourty minutes later and the results were in.

I had the upper body strength of an unusually scrawny toddler and the aerobic fitness of a morbidly obese asthmatic. I was both perplexed by my bodies inability to perform physical acts of almost any description and feeling marginally less confident about my race.

As I write this I am aching slightly, from my fourth "gym day" and there has been improvement; I am perhaps less scrawny toddler and now into the realms of distinctly average five year old.

But I will buy those new trainers and I will defeat Little Spoon.