The Aftermath

It's been a good 18 months since I last graced the insides of a gym, possibly longer.

I am actually pleased with the fact I made the supreme effort to go - getting up early is never an issue, it was the psychological barrier of getting over threshold of the gym's entrance. This morning I actually did it.

Seven painful minutes on the rowing machine made my chest hurt, then 30 minutes on the 'Fat Burning' program on the cross trainer was actually bearable although the tautness in my calf muscles could fire an arrow. Then I finished off on the weight machines which I thought would be easy but it actually felt like Superman pushing a train. I managed to make it back to the changing room before collapsing, avoiding passing out in front of the pretty blond girl on the running nachine by a whisker. I was always super-organised when I used to gym regularly and I was horrified to find I was several items short in my wash bag including my favourite body wash and toothpaste (I always have a quick shower and brush my teeth before I go to the gym out of courtesy to others, thankfully). So I have already given myself one stern warning for the day, next one is a potential yellow card and I will have to stand in the car park for 10 minutes.

There is a refreshing short walk across the car park from the gym to the office which helps cool you down - that's a bonus as when I start to sweat it takes a while to stop. However, climbing two flights of stairs and greeting people through gritted teeth was hard - the lift looks a better bet in the future but that is surely giving in to age. Sitting at my desk, I am waiting for the pain to start but apart from a rawness in the chest akin to breathing in noxious fumes, I actually feel ok if tired, although I slept like a baby last night.

My wife and I have been remiss about going to ante-natal classes and our discussion last night centred round this - what if there is no time between now and the end of February to go? When I tried to allay her fears by saying, 'How hard can it be?' she turned her back and huffed. Good point, well made.

I have been reading little books about the subject of men and pregnancy but none have really given the kind of training I need. The truth is, while I have cleared up umpteen messes after children and animals, I have not changed a nappy. I have winded babies before now but I know nothing of the regiment and routine required. These are some of the things I fear. What if I forget to feed the baby or fail to wake up when it's crying? What if I put the nappy on wonkily? What if the milk is too cool? What if the dogs take a dislike to it or get jealous? What if Wales lose on Saturday?

You get my point? I haven't yet acclimatised myself to the rigours of fatherhood and I can feel it heading at me like an unstoppable freight train.

Pah! If I can summon the will power to get back in the gym, I can crack this fatherhood business. Can't I?