family – Page 10 – Never Give Up PT

Petit Dejeuner

This morning I discovered that I like blueberry shredded wheat. I also found out that I do actually have the stomach for a breakfast. This is something that I tend to put off until elevenses. I’m learning lots at the dining room table today. The family sat at the dining room table and ate together in the morning for the first time in months. There’s a few reasons why we don’t manage this more often. My lack of appetite on early mornings plus the chaos of getting the boys ready for school (and us for work) are the two main ones, but it’s the Easter Holidays and although I’m dressed and ready for work the boys are still in their pajamas with no great hurry to be anywhere. 15 minutes sitting at the breakfast table was a real treat.

I made some other discoveries too. I now know how to describe the weather in French, Finlay can count in two’s to ten in French and Jonas can count to 69 in French. The French throw a curve ball from 70 onwards so a few more family breakfast times might be needed for this.

Chef Alice Waters once said, “It’s around the table and in the preparation of food that we learn about ourselves and about our world.”

Our evening meal is when we usually get to sit together as a family. Football practice or working late can sometimes make this impossible for us all but it is the one time that we make the effort to be able to sit down together with our meal. This is when I find out about the kid’s and my wife’s day. I ask the boys what they have learnt at school and it can often bring about conversations about their aspirations, thoughts, fears and laughter as we sit and chat over our cottage pie. Having a map of the world in the dining room prompts discussions about politics, flags, history and current events and the French poster keeps us brushed up on the language which is important if our vision of moving to France to persue our business ideas eventually comes to fruition. We wouldn’t move to a country without having a good grasp of the language, so I must improve on my skills from sounding like Inspector Clouseau for that to happen!

Sitting together and eating a meal can make us value what it is that we are eating too. I hate the rushed occasions where I’m having to grab a bite to eat in the kitchen whilst quickly putting something together for the boys before their football practice. There are certain things throughout the day that we have to do which should be observed with the respect that it deserves. Eating a meal should be one of those times. But I’m a realist and realise that this isn’t always possible, so when it does it should be special. If the effort and want to do it is there then preparing a healthy meal and having the time to eat it can happen with regularity.

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Working times have changed massively in the past 20 years. 9-5 in the office is no longer the norm. 14 hour shifts, night shifts, sleep ins, split shifts, working from home and on call are all very popular working structures now but this has disrupted the family home. You are having to adapt to your working hours yet your body has consistent periods of hunger and tiredness each day that might not fit in with what is required of you in your job or your family life. You get stretched to the limits by your obligations and commitments.

But just like your obligation at clocking in for duty, preparing a meal and sitting down to eat should be a high priority too. That is your duty to yourself. Your boss won’t care that your sugar levels are low. Your 8 year old doesn’t care that you’ve skipped a meal as long as you drive them to football practice. The only person that you can truly rely on to create a structure to your meal times is yourself.

Perhaps when the holidays are over and the chaos that is the school morning routine begins again I can look at changing my attitude to eating at breakfast time with the family. Now I’ve found a cereal that I actually like I could look at waking 15 minutes earlier to dedicate this time to sitting and eating together. I’ll be sure to let you know if this happens when the kids go back to school and maybe one day I might even decide that porridge isn’t like wall paper paste after all!

Easter Holidays

“Daddy!” My youngest called from the sitting room. I was wiping the kitchen surface down for the umpteenth time today. They’re growing lads so the food prep throughout the day is lengthy. “Look at our new dance!” I went into the sitting room to see some shapes being thrown by my two boys. It’s probably from Fortnite. At their age I was giving it the ‘Prince Charming’ moves by Adam Ant so I get it. In fact, at 43, I still get the Adam Ant moves out after a few G&T’s.

It’s the Easter holidays. We are fortunate enough to have jobs where we can juggle the holidays and our work. The financial loss in our businesses due to lockdowns took it’s toll on us and we can’t justify holiday clubs every day for me to be at the gym and my wife at work, so I’ve been seeing lots of new dance routines this week. Today, I’m with the boys and my wife is at work. In the past it has seemed like we are spinning too many plates and trying not to smash them.

The gym, even when I haven’t got a client booked in, is my place of work. Just by being there and talking to people I can attract new customers and build new relationships. But this week I’ve definitely been ‘daddy’. Due to my online coaching at least I can still do work from home if I need to.

One thing that I can’t do though is train myself. The one thing that has kept my mental and physical health in check for the past 25 years has taken a back seat. Going to the gym is a necessity to my business of course, but it also plays a vital role in my wellness. The gym is my favourite place to be in my free time, not just in my professional time. It’s where I feel at home.

Yet this week it’s at my actual home where I find myself with my kids. To be fair, living in a town which is one of the most visited places in the UK during the holidays is a fun place to be with two young kids. So far we have played football on the beach, visited the amusements and walked along the cliff tops looking out to sea in search of dolphins. Scarborough is pretty cool like that. There’s always something to do with two lively boys.

Hearing their calls of “Daddy” still surprises me. I sometimes take a moment to think to myself, ‘they’re talkin to me! I’m a dad!’ It gives me a feeling like nothing else to think that I am their daddy. I’m a lucky man. And not training myself in the gym for a couple of weeks is well worth it. After all, to be what I want to be inside of the gym I must be the best person I can be outside of it. The foundations of success comes from the 23 hours outside of the gym. Being the best husband and dad is now my biggest goal in life. Master that and the rest is easy.

The Easter holidays have been planned in my workout programme, of course, so I have accounted for this. As long as I stay active and my nutrition stays stable, not going to the gym isn’t going to disrupt my progress. My body needs a rest sometimes. I’ve just finished six weeks of strength and power training so this couple of weeks will be a perfect break until I begin a hypertrophy cycle. It’ll get intense again. So giving my body a rest is important.

But there was a time where this would have freaked me out. Not going to the gym to train myself would have left me feeling flat. I would have felt like my progress had been stalled or totally derailed by not training. I now know that this isn’t true. I can not only rationalize this, but I know that it is in my best interest to put the weights down from time to time.

As much as I know that staying in the best condition in the gym is important to me, watching the latest floss dance from my kids is the most enlightening thing that I can do. It’s moments with my wife and kids like yesterday at Piglets Farm near York that will stay with me. The next gym visit is a vital component to my wellbeing but will always be secondary to creating memories with my family. I no longer have to spin so many plates, I simply just put them to one side until I’m ready to spin again.

The Monster On The Stairs

The young teenage me needed a pee. I was home alone in my parent’s house as I sat in the living room crossing my legs and uncomfortably shuffling as the feeling in my bladder intensified. It was early evening and the sun was going down but the lamp lit the living room adequately. Outside of the living room door, however, I imagined darkness. The dark hallway leading up to the dark stair case where I needed to climb to reach the dark first floor to enter the dark bathroom to pee. I could wait no longer. The spine tingling feeling of being chased as I scramble up the stair case was about to happen.

Opening the living room door presented me with nothing like I imagined. The dusky evening still provided some light and nothing like the pitch black in my head, but every light switch, barring the kitchen switch which was further away, went on anyway including the stair case and upstairs lights. I knew, though, that the light has never stopped the monster from chasing me up the stairs before. It’ll be back again.

I walked along the hallway towards the stairs, glancing behind me to make sure that no piercing eyes were peering at me from beyond the kitchen door left slightly ajar. Nothing. So where was it? I gulped and took my first step onto the stairs. As was my usual routine I picked out a jolly song to mutter as I slowly took my second step. I began to check through my peripheral vision to see if a whispy hand was reaching out for ankles. My song had gone. Adrenaline started to take over. The natural fight or flight feeling was beginning to peak. Each step became quicker and quicker until I could feel it breathing onto my neck…..

I ran, fell, scurried, jumped through the other 20 steps to reach the top! I turned and…nothing. The stairs were empty. I had escaped the monster on the stairs once more. ‘It’ll be back’, I thought as I caught my breath and had my pee at last. Going back down the stairs? Well, that was always a breeze.

Has anybody else ever had this feeling? I know adults who I have spoken to who say they still get this feeling sometimes. My boys at 5 and 8 are experiencing it now and I can only imagine that it comes from an anxious place.

I haven’t experienced this since my mid teens and I guess it would’ve been around the time that I decided that ghosts, spirits and Gods (good or bad) didn’t exist to me. Perhaps if I knew in my mind that no supernatural powers were at play then it couldn’t possibly be that. And I knew that an actor called Robert Englund dressed up to become Freddie Krueger and at the time of my life I started to watch A Nightmare On Elm Street and other horror movies I was able to separate fake and reality. I can no longer fear something that I don’t believe in or if I know it to be an act in the case of a movie.

Last night my eldest asked me what I was scared of. I find this such a tough question. I ask myself this question often too. I told him anything that takes me out of my own control scares me. I gave rollercoasters as an example but in my head the real example would be to lose somebody close to me or for me to die and leave them behind to grieve. Death doesn’t scare me, but thinking of those having to deal with my death terrifies me.

My son goes to a religious school and, as I mentioned in a previous blog, I respect his beliefs in a God. We have regular discussions and I never dismiss his beliefs just because they are different to my own. Coming up to Easter is a tough time for him as he learns about Jesus on the cross. Him playing Fornite has nothing on the graphic stories he is taught at school. He cares about Jesus and I love him and admire him even more for his extension of love that he gives to others. And for such a caring child I really wish he hadn’t have had to hear the stories of Covid, Afghanistan and Ukraine in the past couple of years. But they are our reality. We took him and his younger brother to the local charity where they were sorting clothes for the Afghanistan refugees and he helped a refugee boy in his class settle in.

There’s lots of reasons for kids and adults to be anxious about and, whatever the monster on the stairs is, seems to be a manifestation of this. It would be interesting to know your experiences of this whether in childhood or as an adult. Is it a thing that most of us experience? Because sooner or later, we’ve all got to pee!

Ban My Sunday Lunch And Me And You Will Be Having Words!

I usually post a massive meal of mine on Facebook and almost every time I think, ‘Hmm! Is that wise to post high calorie food and drink when I promote myself as a Personal Trainer?!’

This fleeting question is always met with a resounding ‘Hell yeah!’ And I need to explain myself…

I eat what I like and I tell my clients to do the same. There’s just one thing that I need to promise myself and that is I must stop when I am full. I have learnt to respect my body enough to not choose the low nutrition food all of the time. My 80/20 rule is very loose but it keeps me mindful of trying to keep 80% of my food nutrient dense. But I’m not going to polish a turd. If I’m having a Sunday lunch it’ll come piled up with all the trimmings. If I’m having my favourite beef curry and fried rice from the Chinese takeaway I’ll order the salt and pepper ribs and chips. These are meals that I have accounted for so I know not to eat anything ‘heavy’ around these mealtimes.

Also, I don’t panic around the time that we traditionally class as mealtimes. Breakfast is exactly that…a time to break a fast. It doesn’t have to be as soon as you wake up. For me personally, thinking of food so early on a morning is not appealing. If I’m not hungry then I don’t eat a breakfast. I’ll eat when I’m ready which is usually around 10-2. Dinner time (or tea time) is the same. Its far too early for me to eat with the kids. They’re very hungry when they finish school so their tea is at 4:30ish. My wife and I are conscious of sitting with the kids to eat though, so we will have something small with them just to make their mealtime an event with the family around a dinner table rather than a plate on their lap watching YouTube. When the kids go to bed our meals can be as late as 9pm.

So here’s my opportunity to kick the myth into touch once and for all…your 700 calorie meal at 9 at night would still be 700 calories in the morning. Eating late before going to bed might cause certain issues to some people, but making you fat isn’t one of them. Research shows that we tend to eat more calorie dense foods on the evenings and turn to snacking when we sit down to watch the latest box set. Perhaps that’s where the ‘don’t eat past 7pm’ headlines came from and it probably originated from The Sun or Daily Mail so it doesn’t count as factual journalism.

My ultimate goal as a PT is to be myself. I’m not going to prescribe anybody a lettuce diet and go to the kitchen drawer to dig out the takeaway menus (everyone has one of the those drawers right?!) But I also recognise that everyone is different with individual needs. So my eating habits might not suit the next person. That’s where my skills, knowledge and experience take over for each person that I speak to.

One thing is for sure though, I’ll never ban a food for anyone.

A Place In The Sun

Derek and Joan love Spain. So much so they’ve just put an offer in for an apartment in Andalusia situated at a purpose built community for British ex pats. They sit outside in the plaza at the local Irish pub eyeing up the fish and chips on the menu waiting for the call back from the estate agent, Juan, with some good news.

My wife and I are watching A Place In The Sun. There’s a hint of jealousy towards Derek and Joan. It’s almost April and despite a couple of days where I ventured out in a T-Shirt last week, it is now snowing.

I have a coat that I threaten to pack away into the loft each year around this time but it certainly got an outing today as I went to take the kids to school. No exaggeration it could be 20 years old or more. I bought it when I thought I could get away with the Liam Gallagher look. Now when I wear it I feel like Peter Falk as Columbo. Old and disheveled. Every time I wear it I find a different pack of rizzlas from the early 2000’s.

Although no official diagnosis I’m certain I have SAD (Seasonal Adjustment Disorder). But maybe I just hate cold weather. I mean, I don’t suffer with my mood when it turns from Spring into Summer. I just suffer from being warm to bloody freezing!

Some people like winter time and the events that happen during that time. But trudging the streets in fake blood asking for sweets, burning the effigy of a man whilst eating toffee apple, hearing Noddy Holder scream those immortal words long before it’s Christmas or trying to stay awake for Jools Holland’s Hootenanny isn’t my favourite times of the year. Walking along a sunny beach, cranking up the BBQ and sitting in the garden watching the sun go down are a few of my favourite things which all happen to be during the summer time. In fact, the only negative I can think of to a British summer is that the footy season has ended. There’s always Wimbledon I suppose.

Without a doubt a massive mood lifter to me is going to the gym. Training has kept me right for years and I’ve stated many times I think that finding a life that focussed around the gym saved my life. I once felt aimless, useless and soulless. The gym made me feel the opposite. Until I became a husband and a father, the gym was my life line.

I did some growing up in the gym. I had many ‘give your head a wobble mate’ moments. In my first proper job I had to stop off at the shop to buy a couple of whisky miniatures to down before beginning my shift a few times. It was that or a panic attack. Slowly, however, the gym became a much bigger influence in my life than any quick hit.

I developed a routine over time which meant that I went to the gym before I started work. It meant extra early starts but I felt fantastic walking into the office and the rest of the day couldn’t bring me down. The gut wrenching feeling I sometimes had as I woke up was quickly quashed once I began to train. But there was always a telling sign to my mood each day and that was the weather. The colder and grey it was outside, the more difficult it was to snap out of a low mood. If the sun seeped through the bedroom curtains in a morning, the easier it was to start my day.

My little boys help me get through a bad weather day too. I’ll stand in the cold rain all day to see Jonas score a goal. And I’ll happily build a family of snow people with Finlay to see his chuffed freezing face at the end of it. Plus, their early morning starts and them needing me for breakfast and school prep ensures that I need to get my arse in gear straight away, whatever the weather!

The weather forecast doesn’t look like I’ll need to shove my Lieutenant Columbo coat into the loft just yet so I will brave the last bit of cold before I’m able to blow up the paddling pool.

Oh, and just one more thing…Derek and Joan had their bid accepted.

Between A Rock And A Hard Prince

This week on social media I have seen arguments about the Chris Rock and Will Smith incident. It seems there’s a Team Rock and a Team Smith thing going on. But I’ve tried to stay away from making comments myself because I am undecided and I’m not fully convinced that either of them look particularly great from this. But here’s my thoughts anyway…

Chris Rock told a pretty crap joke aimed at someone with alopecia. It wasn’t even funny. But then I am not the oracle on what is funny and what isn’t. Is comedy the same as any art? Subjective? Was Jimmy Carr’s Holocaust joke funny? I didn’t laugh, but others might.

Anyway, funny or not this joke was aimed at Will Smith’s wife who then felt obliged to give Rock a slap. I’ve told some crap (probably not politically correct) jokes in my time but I’ve also given somebody a slap for being insulting to me or my family. I’ve been Chris Rock AND Will Smith before. Maybe I haven’t been at the Oscars and my jokes or my aggression hasn’t been in front of the viewing world but for a split second I can put myself in both of their shoes.

I’m hearing so much about cancel culture these days and this does worry me. I grew up watching Love Thy Neighbour, Fawlty Towers, Rising Damp, Carry On and Only Fools And Horses. I had DVD’s of Chubby Brown as a teenager and I read Viz. They all discriminated against gender roles, race, religion, sex, wars and abilities. These days I prefer Ricky Gervais, who somehow escaped a slap at the Golden Globes and has spoken out about cancel culture himself. His series After Life is so innapropriate at times yet one of the most poignant things I have ever seen . A part of me wants to blush and turn to my wife and say “he can’t say that!” But in the next scene I’m tearing up at the sadness his character is going through.

Did Love Thy Neighbour make race relations in 1970’s UK better or worse? It wasn’t its role to educate it’s viewers but does it have a responsibility to do so either way?

Will Smith has probably sat in an audience listening to Chris Rock many times and laughed at someone else’s expense. Rock is hardly the type of comedian that will talk about his Nan’s cute catchphrases like Peter Kay. Rock is edgy and becoming a famous black American comedian in the 90’s at the same time as Will Smith becoming a famous black American actor I’m sure that they are aware of each other’s work. So does Smith usually laugh at Rock’s jokes but just not the ones involving his wife?

When does comedy become innapropriate? Yeah we have all heard of bad taste humour and we seem to be ok with that. But what if a joke is about the Holocaust, slavery, a religion or rape? When should it be cancelled? Should it ever be? With hash tag campaigns and voices that previously went unheard these days, there are certain topics that seem to be ‘no go’ areas when it comes to comedy. Yet Carr recently pushed it’s boundaries at a live gig recorded for Netflix.

And maybe it needs comedians like that who are willing to test these boundaries. If we see it as an act rather than a person speaking their opinions, then we can continue to discuss the seriousness of the subject matter. For as long as these topics are in the forefront of our minds, whether on stage at the Appolo or in Parliament, then we will keep having serious discussions on how to be a better society. Perhaps these comedians are actually, intentionally or not, becoming the scapegoats. They receive the world’s attention and get paid for it and we disect their subject matter. Win/Win?!

I have no answers and that’s why I am not Team Rock or Team Smith, but perhaps it just comes down to a man doing his job as a comedian and a man doing his job as a husband. Even if they both did a bad job at them.

Trying Not To Make A Hash Of It

I’ve just finished training at the gym. It was a tough one today as I like to start the week heavy after a couple of days rest. I can feel that my blood sugar levels are low and I will need to eat when I get home.

My drive home was filled with meal ideas, but I had a big problem. Over the weekend, due to two kids birthday parties, lots of driving my family around to various errands and a great barbeque at the in laws, my eating habits had become a case of grabbing what I could here and there and plenty of it. The chips at the kids party that I snaffled into my mouth as none of the parents were looking were delicious but having had a Full English the day before I felt that I probably should try and have something a little less fatty and greasy. Anyway, young Joshua from class 9 shouted ‘those chips aren’t for you!’ so that put paid to anymore chips.

Also, it was Mother’s Day on Sunday. My wife had baked a cake to take for a mum. So after my three cheeseburgers and potato salad I ended up with a huge slab of sponge cake for dessert. Undoing the jeans belt isn’t a done thing at your in laws so I waited until I got into the car. I knew that tomorrow would have to mean some sensible meal choices.But then tomorrow came.

I’m not one for actually sitting and eating fruit. Sitting in itself would be a massive achievement on a morning getting two kids ready for school. So my wife and I have a good routine for getting in our fruit and veggies first thing. We invested in a Nutri Bullet some time ago and it’s been really useful to us. This morning in went a banana, spinach, blueberries, oranges and protein powder before I went to the gym. A good start. But by the end of my session I needed food again. The problem was that the meal ideas were not good ideas considering my weekend meals.

Weekends (or any time away from the norm) is usually a time where we can relax the diet or have a few extra treats without guilt. We should never feel bad about a little over indulgence from time to time. But it is important to attempt to readdress the balance when we can. My go to food on a weekday lunch time is quinoa and mackerel. It takes minutes to prepare and I can quickly eat it and continue my work. But my brain kept taking me to all of the weekend food I’d been having!

I was determined. Down came the tin of mixed beans from the cupboard. These are another staple in my diet. And to my delight, right at the back of the cupboard was a can of corned beef. Now, it’s not an exaggeration to say that it is not something me or my family eat. In fact, I can’t remember eating it since I was a kid and my mum rustled up a corned beef hash. But there it was saying,’Pick me! Pick me!’

So I did.

A bowl of mixed beans and a few slices of corned beef would do the trick. It was a compromise. I had the healthy stuff in there mixed with a can of processed cow meat resembling dog food.

‘But what’s this?’ I thought as I held the can aloft like the FA Cup. It was a key to open it up. Had I been transported back to the 80’s? Had it been in the cupboard so long that it actually WAS from the 1980’s?! Surely we have tin openers or ring pulls for this sort of thing these days. Reluctantly but feeling a bit Hangry by this stage I began to use the key. I wanted that processed meat and this bloody key wasn’t going to stop me.

I got to the half way mark of opening the can. It was a slow process. At one point I tried squeezing the can to see if the meat would slop out at the open end. It didn’t. It remained solid. But now the bulged can became so much harder to open. Eventually, I had managed to open it without any cuts or too much swearing. I could have my mixed bean and corned beef lunch at last.

Corned beef is processed of course and it isn’t the type of food you should be eating too much of for it’s quality protein value or it’s vitamins, but there’s worse things that I could have gone for. It satisfied my mind when what I had given my body for the past 48 hours was white bread, oil and fat. Corned beef was actually a better option! And I had to start somewhere.

For the past 15 years I have carefully planned my eating habits to include the type of foods that experts and headlines say that we should avoid. It’s not just the gym goals or the aesthetics that are at stake, but we must consider our overall health. I know that I can’t live off poor nutritional foods for this reason, but I also know that I can balance the occasional poor nutritional food choices with the foods that are considered highly nutritious.

I want an occasional beer without running to the scales. I want to enjoy a family meal with cake for dessert. I live in Scarborough. The locals would hunt me down if I banned fish and chips! These meals can be enjoyed with the right attitude and a healthy relationship with your food. Sometimes we are so busy trying to fix our physical issues that we forget how to work with our mental issues. And yet if we can beat our anxieties around food I know that the physical issues are so much easier to fix too.

It might be another 30 years until I have to go through the trauma of opening up a can of corned beef again, but at that moment it scratched an itch that had been left behind from the weekend. Now I can move on!

A Strong 9

I’ve been having a bit of bother in getting my lads motivated for school in recent mornings. At a certain point in the term this can happen. Tiredness creeps in and I find myself repeating the same prompts.

“Are you dressed yet?”

“Have you brushed your teeth?”

“Please just get your shoes on!”

Everything is operating on slo-mo. Although I have found a technique that currently works, at least for this week, which is giving marks out of 10 for their efforts. Whether that’s their morning routine, tidying up or meal times. The higher the score the more of earning stars for the weekend, which is usually based around the Switch and Xbox time or VBucks.

This morning my eldest asked me if he had done better than his younger brother. I had noticed that this comparison has become more prominent in both of their mindset, yet I’m very careful in not giving any extra points to one over the other. I assist them on both managing to earn the same points out of 10. This morning was a strong 9.

What I replied to my eldest was the same response I used to have to give myself and what I have to say to many trainees I have worked with…

“Concentrate on making sure that you do your best job and don’t worry about anybody else”.

It’s easy to lose your way when you compare yourself to anybody else. You are you.

I used to pick up the 30k dumbbells because Biceps Brian on the next bench to me had just pressed 28k. I was trying to prove that I could outlift them, even if my form was horrible and it put my shoulder out. I should have focused on my weight and rep range. I should have looked at yesterday’s me and tried to better myself. Nobody else. I found this out eventually which is why I became a PT, but I also need to teach myself this outside of the gym too.

Bob lives opposite with his wife and two kids. Each morning as I am telling the kids to get dressed for the tenth time and I draw back the curtains I notice Bob pass the window going on his morning run. He waves. I feel like putting the middle finger up but I wave back with a half disheveled grimace on my face.

“A wonderful morning for it!” Bob shouts as he canters down the road. Is it? I think to myself as a worn pair of undies slaps me in the face. The kids are finally getting dressed.

Bob’s kids get into his new sports car effortlessly as I bundle mine into the Juke. Off Bob goes to school with his children while I’m sifting through the crisp wrappers to find the seat belt buckle to strap the youngest in. His wife Berni gets into her car to get to work early for her very important meeting.

I see the kids are finally getting dressed

On Saturday evenings I often see Bob and Berni going out for the evening all glammed up. They head off in a taxi as their kids and child minder wave them off. I look at the clock. Its time for Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway, I’ll get the kids to bed and pour a glass of wine.

What I don’t know is that Bob won’t be drinking alcohol when they go out for the evening because he is a recovering alcoholic. His sports car is on finance and his midlife crisis made him get it and this has caused daily arguements with Berni because they can’t afford it. He goes on his daily runs because that is the only thing that gets him out of bed and his children can’t wait to be driven to school so that they don’t have to listen to mum and dad argue anymore. Berni gets to work early so she can meet up with her office fling.

We all know Bob and Berni. Their lives look terrific. But all we have managed to do is create a story in our minds that we begin to believe. You know your life. You live it every day. Warts ‘n’ all. The grief, the battle scars the daily bloody grind. So we begin to imagine that Bob and Berni have the most perfect lives.

Yet when we stop comparing ourselves to anybody else we can see that our own life isn’t so bad. Yes there’s still the ups and downs and curve balls that life throws at you, but you are owning this shit. You are not just managing to survive each day but you are thriving through adversity.

Life can be tough. Sometimes you just need to get off of the carousel. But make no mistake, Bob and Berni are no better off than you. Look at yourself and be proud of yourself today and see what you can achieve tomorrow.

So give yourself a strong 9.

I’m The Daddy

It feels like I’m sat in a school hall at lunch time. No, that’s being kind. I’m in the middle of a borstal canteen. I’m waiting for a young Ray Winston to come at me with a sock full of pool balls.But it’s me who is the daddy now and I’m sat with my two boys in McDonald’s.

Two big promises that my wife and I made when we had kids is that we won’t buy our kids toy guns and we won’t take them to McDonald’s. So after a trip to The Golden Arches full of Ket they’ll be sure to go home and shoot each other with NERF guns or ‘head shot’ some kid on Fortnite. There goes that promise.

Each year, our kids are given guns for their birthday presents from other kind parents. And after much consideration my wife and I realized, perhaps with resignation, that children have always played with toy guns and probably always will. I played with cap guns, spud guns and water pistols but I didn’t grow up to be El Mariachi. Nor do I try to blow Roadrunners up with TNT because I watched Wile E Coyote and I’m not a Satanist because I went to a Marylin Manson concert as a teenager. So maybe we need to lighten up.

Since kids were having birthday parties at McDonald’s and mine were invited, which enabled their palette to taste such..erm,,delicacies then we have decided that they can go now and again as a ‘treat’. It might only be a quarterly event, but it fills me with dread with every visit. I had a mare today.

The first thing I noticed is that it felt like I was walking into a nightclub. Two security guys looked me and my lads up and down as we walked up to The Arches. Now, my youngest had just downed a bottle of fruit shoot which can make him seem a little tipsy but I was sure we would get in. I held his hand to stop any swaying and gave a confident nod to the doorman. He opened the doors for us. We were in!

The nightclub feel continued once we got inside as a bleeping noise akin to an electronic dance anthem was heard above the euphoric noise of revellers. But it was just the ubiquitous noise from the serving area.

And since when did Maccy D’s have touch screen to make an order?! My kids have very specific requests when it comes to how they have their burgers. It’s not something that I can get across on a touch screen. Chicken nuggets it is then.

As we sat down, brushing away a few courses of food on the chairs from the previous customer, I glanced around the room and my initial description of a school lunch hall was pretty accurate. Except instead of teachers telling the kids to get down from the tables it was the security guys. At one point they told a teenage boy to stop vaping or he’ll be thrown out.

McDonald’s food has always reminded me of toy food. It looks and tastes fake. I’m not a food snob. I’ve had many cold kebabs the morning after and I buy fake Pringles. I’ll eat most things as long as it’s not looking at me and I’ll even eat seafood sticks (formerly known as crab sticks) and I don’t know anybody else who will touch those! I’m not too fussy. But a McDonald’s burger has left my taste buds feeling empty except for a saltiness that I’m hoping my seventh pint of water will get rid of.

As we walked back to the car I was pleased to hear that my boys didn’t really like their burgers either. We all left feeling a little awkward that this ‘special tea’ experience was a bit crap.

But I can’t deny the influence of this global patty giant. Like the chain or not, it’s 850 restaurants closing in Russia is as significant today as it was it’s first opening 32 years ago. Yet every time I eat there I refuse to believe that it is their great tasting menu that makes it what it is. As McDonald’s grew in popularity in the USA the rest of the western world all wanted to eat like Americans, smoke, drink, wear jeans and drive cars like Americans. And this obsession stretched to the rest of the world too.

My kids pick up lots of accents and ‘isms’ from YouTube influencers. There’s an Irish guy who is popular at the moment but the majority seem to be American. Our leftovers go in the trash according to our kids. They put their pants over their underwear and they fall on their butts. It just seemed like yesterday that they were watching Paw Patrol on Channel 5. Today it’s YouTube channels. Their intrigue into new accents, cultures and languages don’t bother us, they can watch it but the content on YouTube is obviously closely monitored by us. Every decision like this is always discussed by my wife and I. Is it the right decision? We dunno.

Should YouTube be banned in our house? Do toy guns, statistically, cause future violent men? Do McDonald’s burgers affect healthy eating choices?

I was allowed to watch horror movies at a fairly young age. Maybe I was Jonas’ age when I watched Friday The 13th. And as I pointed out earlier I’m not an axe wielding murderer. Yet as much as I tell myself I need to lighten up our children have much more access to sex, violence and ‘swears’ as my kids call them with just the wrong click of a button. Maybe it’s different from a scary film from Blockbusters.

I’m a great believer that people need the opportunity to realise their errors for themselves. Having studied theories like Rogarian Therapy I understand how important it is for an individual to come to their own conclusions about their own life, even if these individuals are my young children. Maybe the next time we have a spare hour in town they might suggest somewhere that they actually enjoy eating at.

Last season I cringed as Jonas took his coat off during a football training session. It was a cold and wet November evening. The other kids were dressed as the Michelin Man but, despite the coach’s attempts for him to put his coat back on, Jonas refused saying that he was warm. I understand his coach having Jonas’ welfare in mind, but I also understand that until Jonas experiences a freezing cold November and can’t go back on his decision to put his coat back on in front of his mates, he won’t learn how to make the correct decision the week after. He knew it was a bad call to take his training jacket off, but bravado had gotten the better of him and it was too late for him to eat humble pie. But he has always worn his jacket on cold nights ever since. He won’t be making that mistake again.

If I don’t allow my kids to make measured mistakes now, in ten years time when they are met with much greater decisions to make they will struggle. Those who work with me will know that I embrace failure. Failure, or bad decision making, should lead to reflection on how to make better decisions next time around. If I tell my kids not to put YouTube on, or that McDonald’s is not an option, then the desire to eat the forbidden fruit will grow. I’d rather that they taste it now and hope that they realize that the forbidden fruit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. YouTube channels of people playing on computer games are tedious after a while and a McDonald’s burger is nowhere near the standard of one that they can make at home.

But this is all a ‘hope for the best’ situation. I’ve trained people for longer that I have been a father. I’ve taken a journey with hundreds of trainees, whereas I’ve only been to McDonald’s with my kids half a dozen times. I’m qualified at training people with their physical and mental wellbeing. I’m not qualified at being a dad. Maybe a few lessons and an exam would have been helpful. As it is though I’ve got to wing it, like all parents do. In my job I know every given situation and how to deal with it. Eating disorders, self harm, depression, athletes with Olympic dreams, bodybuilders, fat loss or weight gain goals, I have a plan for every person who approaches me.

But in McDonald’s with their touchscreen ordering, two hungry kids, doormen chasing unruly customers and an incessant bleaping noise coming from the tills and I’m a nervous wreck by the end of it.

Tomorrow it’s beans in toast.

Server Not Responding

I need some time to think.

Being educated in three strict Catholic schools growing up my thinking time, or ‘thoughts and prayers’, were done in a church.

Perhaps being taught by strict Nuns didn’t help my views on religion though. Religious Education was all about Catholicism and I grew up with a very blinkered view of faith.

As a teenager I bought and read the Quran which maybe proves my rebellious nature more than it does my intrigue into religion. Spanish was taught in my GCSE years, so I learnt German in my spare time. I was taught Shakespeare by my teachers so I read and quoted Leonard Cohen instead. I was sent out of a History class once for questioning why we weren’t taught black history. In a 1995 Catholic school you didn’t question their teachings. My name in the staff room was probably mud.

I’m slightly envious of a person who has faith in a God. That must be a deep and profound relationship which holds reassurances I cannot even begin to imagine. Sometimes, if we watch the 10 0’Clock news too much, reassurance is important. But I can’t pretend to be someone I am not.

I need some time to think.

My eldest son, who goes to a Church of England school, says that he is a Christian. He knows that his mum and I are not and I admire his independence in making up his own mind. I’m trying my hardest to get him to support Liverpool instead of Aston Villa! But I’d never try and change his mind regarding his faith. He is his own person and I will try to guide his beliefs whilst being honest to myself too.

On the occasional Sunday it is ‘update’ time on their game Fortnite. This is when the whole gaming community start climbing the walls as their console screen reads ‘Server not responding’. A new chapter in the game is downloading and it can take a few hours before it can be played. If I’ve lost you in this last paragraph then don’t worry. Fortnite is lost on me too. But the important thing here is the window of opportunity to drag the kids away from the computer screen and take them to my place of worship. After all, I’ve been to Jonas’ many times.

I need some time to think.

As we walk along the cliff edge at Cornelian bay I find my time. There’s something satisfying in looking out to where the sky meets the sea. The spring sunshine shimmers across the cold North Sea as it crashes against the rocks below. The smell of the salty waves and seaweed is fresh as it reaches my senses way above the cliff top. The breeze mixed with the occasional gust of wind waters my eyes. Or at least, that’s what I tell my wife as she catches a tear from my cheek. I’d be a rich man if I could bottle that moment and sell it. But I’m richer still by telling you about it for free. That moment is there for anybody to feel.

Fortnite is back on now. The boys only get console time over the weekend so I don’t mind their enthusiasm to get back home to play on it. Not only did they accompany me to my thinking place but they also helped forage for gorse and nettle, so they deserve their free time.

Whether we pray, meditate or walk and think it plays a crucial role in our mental health. Another of my thinking places is at the gym, but it is a very different experience of course. Thoughts are often interrupted by conversations about macros and deadlifts. And I’m fine with that. My schooling might not have been my greatest learning experience, but one subject I do know is macros and deadlifts.

I need some time to think. And you do too. Wherever you go to get that time, make sure that you prioritize it as much as you do your eating, sleeping, training and breathing. It can keep us healthy. It can keep us alive.