The art of ingymidation
I have been going to the gym on and off – more on, I have to say – for the last 15 years or so. I remember summer 2004, at the age of 28, contracting chicken pox for the very first time and lying in a bath of bicarbonate of soda, peering down at the small, but insistent dome of my belly, thinking, “here we go, then, the middle aged spread I have heard so much about”. Incredible, really, how ready you are to consign yourself to the knackers’ yard...