Friday 18 October 2019

Don’t trust the technology

We recently signed up to a new gym.  Fancy place, fully digitised and tech heavy.  I have been asked repeatedly whether I wear a pacemaker.  I think that has less to do with my health and more to do with buggering up their electronics.  I suspect if I had one, I’d be encouraged to focus more on the analogue equipment.

One bit of kit that caught my eye was the Boditrax, a glorified set of scales that carries the by-line “beyond body composition”.  I’m not sure what that means; beyond composition suggests decomposition to me and, although I’m not as fit as I’d like to be, I haven’t yet started to rot.

By standing on a platform and gripping its handles, Boditrax magically provides more information than a simple weight measurement.  It provides 14 different metrics including fat and muscle mass, skeletal and abdominal analysis, a physique classification and a metabolic age.

I’m tickled by the physique classification for the highest fat percentage and lowest muscle score.  Boditrax has opted for the politically correct “Hidden Obese”.  I’m not sure where people in that category will be hiding their fat, but it does conjure an image of veins popping from prolonged tummy tensing.  My measure provides me with an “Obesity Warning”, which presumably means that I need to do some exercise or start looking for hiding places.

I did think I was doing a little better than that reading implies, but there is clearly work to be done.  None more so than when it comes to addressing my metabolic age.  Mrs GOM stood on the machine before I did and, coming in at 16 years younger than her actual age, the machine confirmed what we all know, that she is brimming with youth.  By contrast, I am not.  I turn 50 next year, but according to Boditrax, four summers have passed since that mark was achieved, proving categorically, despite Mrs GOM’s assertions to the contrary, that you can’t trust technology.

Maybe the clever people at Boditrax should develop their system to incorporate a maturity index.  On that measure, I’d be sure to come in considerably below my years.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
18 October 2019

Friday 4 October 2019

The training is over


Credit: Gary Andrews (@GaryScribbler)
A friend recently remarked that I could perhaps lose the “in Training” element from my GOM in Training sobriquet.  It appears, he suggested, that I am now a fully qualified grumpy old man.  I think he has a point.  When reflecting on my most recent posts, I have become increasingly outraged at the political and social climate within which we live.  I didn’t intend for the GOMIT to become a political commentator; the plan was for something considerably more frivolous and light-hearted.

If my friend is right, and my training is complete, I have discovered that my chosen path is akin to a newly qualified doctor discovering that he or she doesn’t like blood.  I don’t like to be grumpy.  For a start, it’s exhausting.  Summoning the energy to rail at the world exacts a toll on my preferred optimistic state, where I’m much happier to exist.

Over the last week I’ve been quietly mulling what to do.  I could continue to scream into the void at our parlous world or revert to a more genteel form of moaning where daily trivialities, such as the baffling appeal of Snapchat to teenagers, or the growing trend to have jeans hover halfway down the wearer’s arse, assume a far greater magnitude than they should warrant.  These latter subjects provide a much greater opportunity to moan in mystification than in outrage, which is considerably better for mine, and everyone else’s wellbeing.

As well as the mainstream media, much of the grist to my GOM mill derives from Twitter and other forms of social media, where it is possible to find extremes of views which all too frequently lead to a competing vitriol, where it is possible to witness the “good people on both sides” become increasingly hostile toward one another and demonstrate the somewhat less savoury sides to their nature.  I cannot be too critical; I am in no position to cast that first stone.

However, as poisonous as Twitter can be, it also has redemptive voices; users who offer considerably healthier reading.  Moving forward, I am likely to spend a little more time following their tweets than the poison that spews forth from the grubby little thumbs of @realDonaldTrump and others.

Take Gary Andrews (@GaryScribbler) for instance, whose sketch appears at the top of this page (https://twitter.com/GaryScribbler/status/1177345226911944706).  Of that, he wrote:

Tough enough being at a new school without the extra burden of our circumstances - but I do like Lily’s solution. Finding a laugh when things get uncomfortable. It both breaks my heart that she has to go through this and makes it swell with pride at her bravery. #doodleaday.

Nearly 55,000 of us get to share Gary’s daily challenges and triumphs.  We are regularly treated to the unadulterated pride and love he has for his children, but occasionally, he will share poignant moments too, where he opens up to the grief he experiences following the death of his wife.  He’s a hero.

So too is Lin Manuel Miranda (@Lin_Manuel), probably best known as the creative genius behind the musical ‘Hamilton’, who operates at a seemingly inexhaustible pace as he leaps from project to project, whilst managing to tweet some wonderfully positive and often esoteric tweets.  One recently (https://twitter.com/Lin_Manuel/status/1177691534742949893) read simply:

Gmorning.
There’s a lot going on.
Take all the time you need.

It’s advice we could all do well to follow.

If you prefer your positivity in a more surreal form, then I suggest following the watermelon eating Thoughts of Dog (@dog_feelings).  His punctuation leaves a lot to be desired, but with 2.8 million followers, there are a lot of grammatically tolerant people out there who are treated every few days to a canine insight that will make you smile.  Take this little pearl (https://twitter.com/dog_feelings/status/1158060297044844545)


i know there’s bad in the world. and it would be silly. to pretend it isn’t there. but for now here’s my leash. and a few licks on your hand. to convince you that one day. we will be alright

Even if you don’t like dogs, it’s hard to argue that the dog’s account has a much rosier outlook on life than a huge number of the Twitteratti.

There are other reasons for me to refocus.  There are manuscripts that need some love and a creative canon that deserves nurturing considerably more than my expressions of anger.  I’ll continue to follow the maddening politics that dominate our culture and, no doubt, will periodically spew forth with my unwanted opinions.

In the meantime, however, I’m going to add some life to no one in particular, help a man restore a battered sloop and mull over a coach load of folks on their way to Albuquerque.


Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
4 October 2019

The Lady's for Turning

  With more spins than a child’s gyroscope on a Christmas morning, Liz Truss’s premiership is looking decidedly revolutionary, but only in r...