lifestyle – Page 4 – Never Give Up PT

There’s Always Time For A Tony Bourdain Quote

Just before I left the UK for Portugal I spoke to many younger people who were intrigued about my move. And come to think about it, these younger people were the ones who asked me why I moved to Scarborough from Leeds.

“Why would you want to leave Leeds for Scarborough?!” They scoffed.

My answer was ‘to live’. By that I mean that ‘to live’ to me means to experience as much as possible out of this relatively short existence. I wanted to wake up by the sea. I wanted my children to go to a smaller school. I wanted to test myself as a PT in a new gym. I wanted to feel the nostalgia of saving up my 2p coins and putting them in the slot machines at the arcades like I did as a kid. I wanted new challenges.

That, to me, is living.

Now, I never expected to live my entire life in the UK, it’s just that the 2016 referendum gave me the kick up the arse to do something about it. I didn’t want to live in a country where people wanted to stand still and, in doing so, not allow others to move where they wanted to either. The Freedom Of Movement is one of the greatest privileges the EU citizens could have.

I didn’t travel when I was younger. But when the younger people at the gym asked me about my move to Portugal I urged them to do the same while they were young. Not necessarily to make a permanent move, but to travel. Discover new cultures, try different foods, learn new languages and skills.

Heck! This isn’t just about younger people either. It’s just in my experience, deciding to live in a different country is a lot more difficult when you have two little kids.

I don’t know how many of my readers are aware of the chef and travel documentary maker Anthony Bourdain. His travel series, Parts Unknown, are available on YouTube. Unfortunately he passed away in 2018 but he has made a lasting impression on me.

I’ll leave you with one of his quotes that has stuck with me.

“If you’re young, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel – as far and as wide as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live, eat and cook. Learn from them – wherever you go.”

And I have a feeling that, wherever he is, Tony is still travelling somewhere.

The Forest

I get time to think when I’m ‘cleaning’ the forest. The cleaning has to be done. Take away the building plots and we have around 19,000 square metres of pine forest. In Portugal this is a tinderbox. A thoroughly cleaned forest will limit the chance of any wildfire and this week with the weather a little cooler is the time to do it. We moved into the property in January so we have missed out on a full winter to clean and, as first timers to these shenanigans, we have felt the pressure.

My sleepless nights had me wondering if I should brush cut the whole land and then rake the loose wood, heather etc at the end, or should I brush cut a bit and then collect little piles from time to time. Should I rake the cut pieces into piles or collect lots of the forest onto a tarpaulin to drag roadside for the tractor to collect? Maybe I could use the cart to bundle as much forest into it and then wheel it to the roadside?

My first day with the brush cutter. All the gear, no idea.

Today my method was the tarp. And it got me thinking, is this the best method? I dunno, I didn’t have an answer. It just felt like today it was.

I’m not unfamiliar with that question. “What is the best method?”

It is one of the most frequently asked questions given to me as a Personal Trainer. The best method for weight loss, the best method for muscle build, the best method for a certain injury.

I have answers, but there isn’t a defining one answer to give for each question. It’s a little bit more complicated than that and that’s why a good PT needs to charge what they do. Anybody can shout at someone and tell them to give them 50 pushups or run 5 miles. But a good PT will not only find the right method for you, but will adapt each day to fit your own personal needs.

Forest clearing, as I’ve discovered, is quite the same.

The forest has a goal. It doesn’t want to set on fire. My aforementioned methods of forest cleaning are all relevant, but I must not allow myself to become bogged down by which one is the best way just yet. After all, I’ve just met the forest. It has some wide, open spaces but some areas are dense with pine trees and woodland. Some areas are flat, some tiered and some sloped. Other characteristics of the forest are rocky, wet, dry, microclimatic, tall trees, short trees, fallen trees, sensitive areas due to wildlife and coloured with beautiful wild flowers.

Every square metre must be dealt with differently depending on these above characteristics but also on the weather, my mood, time and how strong my back feels at the time (it’s very physically demanding and if I put my back out then the forest won’t get cleaned at all).

But to know of any kind of method at all it is important to point out that I asked questions. I asked locals who had experience in dealing with this sort of land. The forest has an important goal. If I pretended to be Billy Big Bollocks who thinks he knows it all, the forest wouldn’t reach its goals and that has serious consequences.

People that I have worked with in the gym all had goals that they wanted to reach. And, just like the forest, us humans have complexities that cannot be dealt with by a ‘one size fits all’ method. We must approach our goals with an open mind and experience a variety of emotions, movements and outcomes to know what is best for us and our individual goals.

So I am convinced that structuring our lives around a healthy lifestyle with gym/fitness goals actually enables us to make better decisions in other aspects of life such as decision making and planning.

And the forest has just given me an example of that within my own life.

A part of the forest from the AL rental accommodation

Lemon

Seeing as I am writing a post all about a lemon, you could be forgiven for thinking that I would take this opportunity to bring up the ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade’ quote.

But you would be wrong.

You might think, seeing as I entitled this blog Lemon, that I will draw similarities with how squeezing a lemon is like squeezing the most out of each day, giving you that zest for life.

And again you would be wrong.

You could, however, be entitled to believe that I am going to give you a string of health benefits from eating this versatile fruit such as helping your body absorb more iron, it is rich in vitamin C and the citric acid can help to prevent the formation of kidney stones.

But, no, your incline would be wrong.

So it is totally feasible for you to think, then, that this article must be about how lemons are also very useful as a natural cleaner, as the citric acid can kill bacteria.

But, guess what? You’d be wrong again.

No. This post is simply dedicated to the biggest, kick ass beast of a lemon that I have ever seen! Thanks to the lemon tree in our garden, we are growing some mahoosive lemons to try to cram into our gin and tonic glasses.

So that’s it! Lemons, eh?!

Silence Brings Truth

It’s funny. I can look through old photos or the memories pop up on my Facebook feed of my ‘progress pics’.

These usually showed me flexing after a gym sesh. At the time I was a commercial gym personal trainer and it felt important to put myself out there on social media and show everyone my ‘results’.

I can tell you now that I don’t regret any of that. I enjoyed the ‘toilet poses’, something that me, other trainers and clients would do. This is where you have a kick ass workout and then go to the changing rooms, flex, take a pic and put it on social media. After all, golfers want to record their hole in one, an angler wants to show friends their big catch and a boxer is proud of their knockout punch. And so a gym goer should be proud to flex.

But right now I don’t have that need to do it. Sure, my training has been erratic. I keep myself very active and consider myself in good condition at 45. I am currently brush cutting 20,000 square metres of land with a 20k machine attached to my hip. But I haven’t been weight training, so the only time I flex these days is when I’m replicating the Bruce Willis scene in Friends. Basically, just after a shower in my bedroom I start acting like Hulk Hogan in front of the mirror. My friends on social media don’t need to see that!

I read a quote recently that resonated. It read,”Noise creates illusions, silence brings truth.”

I don’t feel like I need to showcase my body anymore. I don’t need to show you my personal best bench press.

I’m happy for the noise to be coming from the new PT’s who feel they have something to prove and who want to create something on social media. This ‘illusion’, I believe, is still important in commercial gyms. People buy into it. The buff, popular trainer who flexes on social media will always have clients in that moment.

But now I prefer to work in silence. And the truth is that I feel more of a complete person now than I ever have done. I have nothing to prove to anyone.

Maybe it’s an age thing, or perhaps I’ve reached a certain time in my life where I just don’t give a fuck. But I just don’t feel like anybody needs to see me flex my lats during a pull down. I’d much rather post the beautiful carpet of purple foxgloves in the garden.

Training remains my life. In fact, as I’ve said many times in my articles, training saved my life. Before I started at a gym, I was depressed and without a cause. The gym gave me a focus and I loved it. Still do. But now it’s different. In a way you need to earn your badges in a commercial gym before you find your true path as a trainer. Well now I’ve found mine. The journey was noisy, but now I’m enjoying the silence.

Thunderstorm

Everyone gets a different feeling when they see and hear thunder and lightning. Some people, like my wife, have a warm fuzzy feeling that reminds her of childhood looking out of her bedroom window on a stormy night.

Some people are scared of the noise and the flashes of light like my eldest son.

Thunder and lightning can bring out all sorts of different kinds of emotions. The practical side of me gets disappointed that I can’t get the stuff done outdoors that I need to get done. The relaxed side of me just wants to find a box set and chill out until the storm passes.

I’ve even heard of people stripping off naked and dancing in it. I’ll stick to Netflix.

Today is a thunderstorm, bringing with it sheet lightning and hail stones. The rumbles of thunder are almost constant. It is majestic. I feel a bit like my wife as I gaze out of the window watching its wonder. But I can’t deny that there’s a little bit of my brain that agrees with my son. What if our house falls down?! The thunderstorm is beautiful, but so is my 100 year old Portuguese house that might not appreciate being shaken.

That’s how it feels as the thunder rumbles on. I can feel the vibration below me. But although the house is old, it comforts me to know that it has survived a 100 years of thunderstorms. It’s a solid structure and will survive another 100 years I’m sure.

‘Yesterday we were in the pool trying to cool down!’ I told our builder. ‘Welcome to Portugal!’ he laughed.

There’s rain, thunderstorms and sunshine in the UK, but here in Portugal the weather is on steroids.

A quote from The Minds Journal says…

Why do you like thunderstorms? Because it shows that even nature needs to scream sometimes.

The science behind a thunderstorm is a little more complex, but I quite like to think that nature is just having a moment, like we all do sometimes.

I once wanted to go on Dragons Den with an invention that allowed busy people (I imagined the city centre of Leeds at the time) to enter a pod so that they could scream, shout and swear without being heard or causing a scene. They could then calmly walk out and continue with their day a bit less stressed. ‘The Screaming Pod’, I announced to Lou one day. ‘I would call it The Screaming Pod!’

I think somewhere in Japan beat me to that invention though. And anyway, Wetherspoons has had a similar concept for decades already.

As I look again out of the window my thoughts turn to the newly sowed grass seed. ‘They need a bit of rain’, I think to myself. And then I realise what just ran through my head and remember that I’m getting old. Between the lawn being a priority these days, groaning every time I stand up and Lou having to point out the food that’s missed my mouth and instead dribbles down my chin, I know that I am getting old.

I jest, of course. 45 isn’t old. But I do think that I have reached an age where I can ‘feel old’ once in a while. I’m entitled to dribble now and again, right?

Ah, there I go again, wittering on about my time in Wetherspoons.

Lou has just reminded me that we still don’t have any doors and windows to the AL rental house, so my next job is to find some plaster board to protect the flooring from the rain. So I’d best sign off for now and get piss wet through in the rain while nature has a scream.

Until next time, my friends.

A Bitoque Break

Not so long ago I would have run a mile from two carby items on my lunch plate. It can make me feel ‘heavy’ for the afternoon, sleepy even. But then I was introduced to rice and chips. Oh, and siestas.

Rice, chips, a slab of meat of either pork, turkey or beef with a fried egg on top and a side salad is called a Bitoque in Portugal. It is insanely nice!

Lou and I felt that we needed a few hours away from the house this afternoon. Since the builders left on Friday we have been trying to reshuffle our home and our lives back to how we want it. A lovely plant in place of the cement mixer. A thorough clean and mop up of the dust that has gathered. Stuff like that.

But today we were tired. The temperature has rarely gone below 25° until evening, when it hovers around 13°, for the past seven days. This has added to our bouts of lethargy.

With the kids at school we decided to take a stroll along the Ribeira Grande river and visit our favourite cafe, Ponte Romana. Not only do they serve the best Bitoque in town, but the location and the views are amazing. And just the tonic today.

Tomorrow we will feel refreshed and focused to go again. After all, there’s plenty to do. But we mentioned today that we can’t take moments like this for granted. Just a meal together, away from the work, kids and business talk, can make a big difference. And it is important to remember the simple things that keep our spirit up.

Even if it is a bit carb heavy!

A Quick Update On The AL House

Just weeks away until the AL house is ready and the difference is massive since the last update! Along with the house being a place of relaxation and tranquility for our guests stay, we are trying to prepare the surroundings for a sensory lift.

Here’s the first floor entrance back in January…

And now…

The ground floor entrance when we first moved into the property…

Now we await the front doors and Juliet balcony…

Upstairs where the stairs will be…

And from the end of today, still waiting for the stairs but the surrounding areas are finished! We have tried to keep as much of the original character of the building as possible so the walls remain exposed.

The next update should be the very finished article which (hopefully) will be in a couple of weeks. Stay tuned!

Eating With People In A Restaurant Who Want To Share

A visit to a restaurant is an event for me. I save myself from over indulgence throughout the day in order to savour the dishes that I might order at the restaurant. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. From pub grub to michelen star, I want to eat my meal all to myself.

As I sit in the sunshine waiting for a menu at a modest pizza place with a couple of friends, the dreaded question was said by one of them…

“Shall we get a family size pizza to share?”

Dude. Do you even know me?! I thought. Are you my friend?

Those who know me would know that I can eat a family sized pizza to myself. And no fish toppings or pineapple, no half and half or thick crust. I want a sloppy Bolognese with lots of cheese and a side order of fries and I don’t want to share it. Do you want a straw my friend? You can slurp on my coke while you’re at it!

I might be in the minority here. It seems increasingly popular to share food at a restaurant. And if I were to try to add fairness to the debate, I could say that my friends were paying equally. It’s not like they were stealing what is mine. It’s just that I want my own and I will pay for my own. I’m happy for the waiter to be frustratingly hovering over our table at the end of a meal while we try to work out who ordered the extra dough balls.

But splitting the bill down the middle is never fair. I pay for my third but I’m still left hungry. Throughout the whole meal I am trying to nibble on my slice of pizza so that I don’t race off and eat what is meant for somebody else. The problem is they’re so bloody slow! I’m Hank Marvin guys! I’m not interested in your visit to Porto. Keep up and eat your fucking bit of the pizza!

But they don’t. By the end I look at the table and all that remains is one slice of pizza and a few fries. They’re not mine. It belongs to Porto guy but does he actually want it? He’s been talking about the architecture of some library for the past fifteen minutes and his slice remains untouched. Untouched by humans anyway, but the flies have had a good investigation of it and the ants crawling up the table leg seem interested.

When is it acceptable to ask if he wants it? Will I have to pay extra if I just slide in there and eat it? Would they even notice? Maybe they haven’t been counting their slices. I wouldn’t want to have to pay extra or be called out for eating more than anyone else. But there’s no way that slice of pizza is being taken away by the waiter. Even the five skinny fries have given up on being eaten by him. They look cold and hard. But if I could dip them into a bit of mayo I could spruce them up again. Fluff them up to their former, delicious glory. I’d save them.

You see, ordering my own food allows me to eat what I like. There are no social rules. I order it, it arrives, I eat it and I pay for it. No awkwardness. It makes me happier. My wife has figured out eventually that, on takeaway nights, I order three chapatis for my curry. Not three chapatis with a bite taken out, not two and a half. Three whole chapatis. This ensures that I can be generous with the chapati dipping of my curry. And any chapati that is left over can ‘mop’ the sides of the dish to avoid wastage. And if I run out of chapati then I can wipe my chips through the sauce to do the same job. Yes, chips. My chips. Not once have I asked my wife for a spoonful of her basmati rice and I never will.

However, some good news on the restaurant visit! The slice of pizza was eventually offered to me and our other friend. I held out my hand towards the slice to invite our friend to have it. He thought about it for a split second and then said no. Result! I’m not sure what reaction I would have given if the greedy bastard had reached over for it.

We all sat back in our chairs patting our full bellies. And then, as the waiter took our plates and asked if we wanted dessert, my friend stated, “I’m really full but I’d be happy to share one.”

Hips Don’t Lie

Seeing flyers around the town of Sertá for salsa dancing makes me want Lou and I to book a session for one evening. Unfortunately, with two young children, we aren’t able to get out of an evening just the two of us. And I can just imagine, if we were to take them along and asked them to sit quietly for a couple of hours as they watched their dad shake his hips towards their mum, they would never speak to me again.

But the thought of salsa dancing does bring back memories of our honeymoon in Cuba. We were at a club watching the professionals on the dancefloor. They were all in traditional dress and it was amazing to watch. Little did I know that, during the interval, Lou had asked one of the ladies to whisk me off my feet to join in with their performance.

Perhaps Lou expected me to modestly follow the dancer, embarrassed at the hundreds of watching eyes, and sheepishly tap my feet like a teenager at a school disco. No. I didn’t. The rum and coke was strong that night.

What happened next was a blur. According to my account, I blew them away with my ‘living la Vida loca’ moves. In reality, the bald man with the trucker tattoos probably looked more like Ricky Gervais from the Office than Ricky Martin.

Overnight, in a small corner of Cuba, I had become famous. Other holiday makers and locals would all approach me, shake my hand, and congratulate me on my performance. Maybe the word is infamous. I dunno.

I like dancing. I move uncontrollably rather than have any decent choreography. Growing up listening to Oasis probably didn’t help my dancefloor moves. During the 90’s I would enter the nightclub like Liam Gallagher. Hands clasped behind my back, I would slightly lean forwards as if I were stooping for a microphone. By the end of the night I’d be a backing dancer for Take That, shirt ripped open singing Relight My Fire.

Youth eh? I don’t miss it. But older age certainly has its challenges. Just like my parents will have gasped at the lyrics of Marylin Manson coming from my bedroom we now have the same issue with Doja Cat lyrics. My kids love the Paint The Town Red song and Portuguese radio is very different to UK radio. They don’t blank out any of the swearing. Instead of listening to Paul Gambuccini’s pick of the pops from 1983 we’re listening to Doja Cat effing and jeffing.

Perhaps my biggest memories of dancing are well in the past. Or maybe as the kids get older and Lou and I are able to begin a class, my best dancing memories are yet to come. I just hope, by then, my hips do lie.

Duolingo

Firstly I’d like to apologise. I haven’t been posting as much in the last week or so and there are a number of reasons.

It’s quite hectic at the moment with building work deadlines on our property and it is the school holidays too. Having a sit down and a moment to myself has been rare, but when I do I often look past my phone screen to admire the views. However, my phone is never too far away and when I’m using it I’m trying to get back into using the Duolingo language learning app.

Back in the UK I would use this app for at least 30 minutes a day and it really helped with my Portuguese language. Duolingo, though, only teaches Brazilian Portuguese. It didn’t deter me. First of all the app is free with ads and I find it the most engaging of language learning apps. I’ve tried plenty. It’s only when I arrived in Portugal and people would correct my accent and grammar that I decided that continuing with the Brazilian format wasn’t helpful to me.

But I’ve felt the need to start again. The main reason for this is I now understand when someone is speaking in Brazilian or European Portuguese and, therefore, become much more adaptable in my own verbal communication. It was 5 months yesterday that we landed on Portuguese soil and the locals in this central part of the country don’t speak any English. That has helped me in learning European Portuguese quickly. After all, language is developed through a need for us humans to survive.

So seeing as I can now differentiate between the two types of Portuguese I don’t feel that the Duolingo app will be an issue.

It is a bit like American English and British. Diaper and nappy, trash and bin. It’s different, but still easily understood. I mean, I lived in the north east of England for a few years and struggled to understand the local phrases much more than when I’ve spoken to an American!

So there we go. I’ve finished my coffee and the sun is going down. I’ve had my 20 minutes peace and I’d best get back to the family. I didn’t get to do Duolingo this time, but I’m glad I checked in with you all.

Cuidad.