The Shugyo Project

The first full week of February passed without incident, which in my current life counts as a triumph. No heroic feats, no disasters, just the quiet satisfaction of not falling off the wagon.

Training went like this: Two gentle 5k runs. Legs turned up for duty without complaint. One swim with the Tri club: 2500m, mostly technique drills. A productive session. One weights session. This was the highlight. I was away for work for three days and managed to use a hotel gym.

All told, a good week. Nothing dramatic, but nothing missed either.

On the food front I’ve been tracking calories with the enthusiasm of a man who has finally accepted that biscuits are not a food group. Result: another 500g gone. Slow, steady weight loss, the only kind that doesn’t end in tears. Power-to-weight ratio is inching upwards. I may yet become aerodynamic.

The cellar, however, has now officially flooded. It is no longer a gym. It is a 12°C chalk-filtered plunge pool. The water is remarkably clear, which is the only polite thing one can say about it. I stood at the top of the stairs looking down at what used to be my lifting platform and thought, “Well, that’s one way to force a change of plan.” Bodyweight circuits in the living room from now on. I am adapting. I am not happy about it, but I am adapting.

I also spent a few evenings on YouTube doing what middle-aged men do best: watching videos of things that terrify us. Mountains I’d like to climb, and inevitably the Matterhorn helmet-cam footage. I know the lens distorts things, it has to, but it still looks properly scary. Steep, exposed ridges, drops that make you instinctively grab the sofa arm. Going up looks hard but feasible. Coming down looks like the sort of thing that gives nightmares: backwards, exhausted, legs trembling, concentration shot. Guides say the descent is often the more dangerous half. Splendid. Precisely why I signed up for this particular form of self-inflicted stress.

As the quote on the website says (I keep it there to remind myself why I’m doing this): “Doing something because it is difficult and growing through that hardship.” theshugyoproject.com

This modest weekly suffering remains trivial next to what Aspire helps people face every day, spinal cord injuries, the long work of regaining independence with practical support: accessible housing, grants, equipment. Your donation carries far more weight than my cold cellar ever will.

JustGiving link below.

Right now the overriding feeling is that I simply need to keep going and get fit — properly fit. Push that VO2 max up as high as I can. That’s what’s going to get me up there and, more importantly, back down again in one piece.

Next week: a little more volume, perhaps, and one of those 10k cross-country races in the diary is starting to feel closer. Legs are still attached. For the moment.

Countdown continues. Nick