The time had come to go to the aid of my wilting body. In Geneva and all points Suisse thereafter for a week of business and blarney with Le Grande Fromage of this Parrish, I am once again living la Vida Loca courtesy of a hotel chain. Wrangling incomprehensible shower systems, struggling with uncooperative electronic room cards, frittering hours away trying to access English language TV stations, you name it.
Yesterday I arrived late, somewhat chirpy after a restorative late, late breakfast at Jamie's Italian at Gatwick's North Terminal. This monster is a feast for the eyes. Here, take a look if you don't believe me. Yum.
As a token waft towards my daily physical effort I floundered on the floor of my room in my skimpies, attempting sit-ups and squat thrusts. I wasn't in the mood, so I retired to watch an excellent program on English Winter Rituals that featured Lewes Bonfire and CBS in particular whilst eating possibly the most expensive small can of Pringles it is possible to find.
This morning I pedalled my wares at the EASL (European Society for Study of the Liver) and the FDI (Federation Dental International) with favourable results. When I reached my room this evening I had a few choices:
1. Slump on the bed with the latest Iain M Banks, order something unhealthy (pizza) via room service and crash out with the TV blaring
2. Shower (after the usual freeze me/ scald me/ strip off my skin palaver), dress and head into town for a beer and to 'see what's cooking in Geneva on a Tuesday night' or
3. Hit the gym
Three, as you know, is the magic number.
I wriggled into a brand new pair of Addidas shorts - MEDIUM if you don't mind. MEDIUM - and pulled on my conspicuously filthy runners. The Mövenpick Airport Hotel and Casino Sky Gym is located not in the clouds but on the fourteenth floor. Here sat the usual depressing aray of treadmills and weights machines. A few sweaty souls puffed and crunched their way to new year nirvana. I hit the treadmill. And here we find yet another of those MENSA-grade conundrums we weary travellers face all the time. How does the bloody thing work? It was an Advanced Gusset Modulator Treadmill 9000 (or something) with a flight deck to make the cockpit of a 747 green with envy. Digital offerings paraded across the screen along with a scrolling LED.
... SELECT PROGRAM ...
Ok, now ... here we go, no ... Wait a bit, there are some diagrams coming up ...
... SELECT PROGRAM ...
Well that wasn't very long, was it? The least you could do is pause for a few sec -
... SELECT PROG - BASH BASH BASH BASH
I hammered a series of codes and numbers into the keypad, almost snapping my index finger as I prodded away blindly.
JUST START. It's not an episode of A.I., you're not HAL. You're a fucking treadmill. TREAD.
Whirrr. And tread it did.
The screen informed me, impassively despite my unreasonable behaviour, that I had selected program 5 - Hill Intervals. The session would last thirty minutes. Off we went at a most pedestrian pace. I hit the 'UP' button. We moved faster until finally we were up and indeed running. The session unfolded much as the LED had suggested. Starting at 4 bricks up from zero (slightly raised) for two minutes, moving up to 9 bricks (quite steep) for the next two, back down, so on and so forth. I jabbed the pace up after a couple of passes and soon enough beads of sweat started popping out on my forehead. Another factor I always discard at these indoor sessions is room temperature. The gym, now populated by half a dozen other hard-working bodies, was like a sauna. I started to sweat profusely. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my neck. Rivers of perspiration started pouring out of me, splashing the dashboard and the running mat below. I pounded on, determined to finish the program, swigging wildly from a stubby bottle of Vittel as I did so. This continued for the remaining 26 minutes.
At last we were done. I was soaked, my 2011 Almeria shirt translucent. A lithe lovely, swooshing along on a low-level exercise bike, watched me dismount. I tried a smile. I hate to think what that must have looked like.
Next up thirty minutes of upper body strength work, a few sit-ups and a bit of planking on one of the exercise balls. I hopped onto an upright static bike to cool down for ten minutes, covering around the same distance as I had on my 30 minute run. The run burned 500+ calories, the cycle less than 80.
Now to deploy option 2 and get those calories back.
