AND f inally

SHOULDERS BACK, STOMACH IN, CHEST OUT. ANTHONY MARTIN SITS CONTEMPLATING HIS NAVEL – AND HIS FEET – WHILE PLANNING THAT PERFECTLY-TONED, SLEEK BODY. YES, IT ’ S THE SAME ONE HE PLANS EVERY YEAR AROUND THIS TIME

WELL, IT APPEARS that after a particularly cold winter, summer is finally arriving.

It was only three weeks ago that I finally banished the night-time auxiliary heater and bed socks, and now I am left with approximately 12 weeks to get ready for one of the main reasons we moved here: walks on the beach, lazing on the beach, lunch by the beach, sunset by the beach, and generally all activities that can follow the word beach. And, with the Algarve having over 200 kilometres of said beaches, it’s not surprising that we gravitate towards them.

However, it is also around this time of year when I realise that there is no way I’m ready to bare all, or at best bare most, as I have been a mite lax regarding perfecting that desirable ‘beachready’ body.

I am sure that somewhere about my person there is a sixpack, but I’ll be damned if I can find it. But I have only twelve weeks to get into some sort of shape, other than the present one, which can be likened to an over-stuffed rag doll that the dog has had a go at.

So how do I, in the span of three months, turn myself from the one who is liable to have sand kicked into their face to… well, the one who isn’t?

First on the agenda is to find my waist, which I think has teamed up with the six-pack and jumped ship. But how do I go about this? Gyms bore me, as would prancing about in a room full of leotarded vegans hell bent on meeting like-minded folk.

What I need/want is exercise I can do by myself in the privacy of my own space. And the place to look for that is my inbox, as for months I have been getting unsolicited emails pushing the joys of ‘chair pilates’ – the so-called geriatrics answer to a work-out – and ignoring the fact that cyberspace knows my age, this could suit me admirably as I can sit comfortably, in front of the television while I stretch, flex and twist parts of my body into places they haven’t been for many years – if ever. All I need to do is drag a suitable chair into position and log on to YouTube.

I have, therefore, just followed my own advice. But the first thing I was presented with was a Pilates Chair for sale at a none-too-lean €4,000.

Scrolling quickly on, I eventually came across a pleasant looking leotarded ‘lady of a certain age’ seated in a chair, not unlike mine and speaking in that condescending tone reserved for those that the speaker deems not intellectually up to their level.

Thinking about the possibility of having a tanned body, complete with abs and waist, I resisted the urge to shout rude things at her and dutifully did as instructed and removed my shoes and socks.

Placing my naked feet in the recommended position on the floor, I couldn’t help but notice that some of my toes appeared to have a life of their own and were pointing in different directions.

Making a mental note to see a podiatrist, I turned my attention to my instructor, who by now was at the deep breathing, head to the ceiling stage. But stretching the body up while holding the stomach muscles in and taking a deep breath caused a five-minute coughing and wheezing fit, so I added a pneumologist to my ‘must see list’ and returned to my personal Marquis de Sade.

At this stage of the video she was demonstrating the working of other muscles by bending forward and lowering the head. Following her to the letter, I heard a crack from my lower spine, added an orthopaedic surgeon to my list of appointments to be made, and, as I struggled upright short of breath and with heart pounding, I wondered, while I’m at it, if a visit to a cardiologist would be a good idea.

With my diary filling up with medical appointments to be made, the question now is should I just skip the beach this year and enjoy my life as is – after all, what would a six pack and a waist really do for me?