Superstars?

I’m going to get done by trading standards one of these days, as this blog only contains a passing reference to beer and quizzes.

The problem with not exercising for 40+ years is that, when you do, you start to get a bit cocky and that’s where the shit hits the fan. A couple of Sunday’s back, I decided to upgrade my Pilates class to ‘Body Balance’, a sort of Pilates Plus. It promised supplementary yoga and tai chi (which I can’t have because I’m still off caffeine) to help build flexibility and strength. It also mentioned the c-word (choreography), which sent TRG* into fits of laughter.

Now, I blame the online booking system, because it can’t possibly have been that I read it wrong. When I turned up for the class, it turned out it was ‘Body Attack’, a high impact aerobic session also featuring the c-word. Not a problem, I was vaguely aware of Jane Fonda’s workout. There were pensioners in the room. How hard could it be?

Turns out, I was in the middle of the bastard love child of an Eric Prydz video and an audition for Billy Idiot. I lasted 20 minutes before my achilles snapped and I had to hobble out with the help of a zimmer frame one of the other participants kindly lent me. That was the end of me going to the gym for a week.

After a reasonable break, I returned for one of Herr Flick’s spin classes, which was as much of a torture than normal. However, I also went to the Saturday morning spin class, run by the woman who did the pensioners and morbidly obese class I first went to.

This was a much better workout, and much more suitable for my injury ravaged body. Not only did she know how to say ‘turn the resistance down’, it turned out it was also the Yummy Mummy class, with a smattering of Yummy Daddy’s like me. I managed to last the class (unlike some of the YMs) and did so without sweating enough to irrigate the Sahara twice over. Maybe I am getting fitter?

I also discovered that, like Alberto Contador, my preferred riding style is out of the saddle with the weight firmly over the front wheel. Now TRG knows why I have a proliferation of pink shirts in my wardrobe.

However, If I was to ride in a Grand Tour, it would have to be with Orica GreenEDGE – after seven hours in the saddle, each day working up a thirst, it’s only the Aussies who could keep up with me in the bar afterwards. That, or people from Yorkshire. If you don’t believe me watch this clip and see what he does after the crash. He would have loved it if he’d had beaten him. He did get back on the bike and re-ride the race though.

This leads me nicely into the theme of this blog. When I went back to circuit training after my injury, they’d introduced a new exercise. Imagine two bars at waist height, but a big rubber band hanging between them. The idea is that you kneel on the band, hold the bars and move your body up and down. Thew woman who was following me in the rotation had missed the instructions and asked me what she needed to do. She looked of a certain age so I gave her the only possible answer – “Brian Jacks; Superstars”. She knew what I meant.

Young whippersnapper out there reading this. to fully understand this reference you’ll need to watch this clip from 2:15 in. However, if you already know of the legend that is the only Judo player (is that what you call someone who takes part in judo?) anyone knows, also watch the clip from 2:15 in and marvel at the upper body strength of the man. I managed about 10, and that was with the elastic band.

This is the old Superstars I’m talking about, not the rubbish attempts to bring it back, when no-one who was still participating in sport would take part. 75-year-old rowing God Steve Redgrave still shit on the opposition though, if memory serves correctly. And by this I don’t mean in the way someone the Royal Blokes * know about shits on the opposition (I can’t write any more for legal reasons)

Also, for those of you who understood the above reference, here’s the theme tune to this blog.

I also found out this week that TRG used to dye her hair different colours. This means that she used to look like this:

TRG

(Sorry The Divine Mr M*, still no Lucy picture)

I also had to ask Penzance* if I was turning gay this week, as she’s an expert in such matters. Apparently just because I went to see an ABBA tribute band, and because I’m going to watch the Eurovision Song Contest, it doesn’t mean that I am. This is good news for TRG, and probably for Hulk* as well, because as an ABBA fan he also needs confirmation in these matters.

Finishing on a quiz note, this week’s quiz at The Green Dragon* is being written by Parker*, so the teams don’t have to verbally abuse me this time around. Not that that’ll stop ’em. Although, after reading the questions, I’m sure the Kaiser Chiefs were right.

Footnote: I actually only strained my achilles, sorry to disappoint.
At the time of writing, Alberto Contador is leading the 2015 Giro d’Italia and therefore wearing the Maglia Rosa or pink shirt.
For those of you who attend one of my quizzes and get asked the question “which Brian was the ony Brit to win the World Superstars title?”, it was Hooper (the pole vaulter) and not Jacks. I know, I was surprised as well, which is why I wrote the question. And a judo player is called a Judoka.
I don’t actually predict a riot, but I do predict a rare win for The Sparklers*.

*see Case List

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