Continuing the week that was, was busy.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the excitement of Armageddon, but I forgot to explain why the week that was busy, was busy.

Mari and I decided to take action on our complete slackness, and so we joined the local gym. This was her suggestion, and I was pretty surprised as her ideal down time is coffee, cigarettes and a book/DVD. Having already resolved to do something after the shock from the moving experience I was pretty happy to take up regular physical activity again, (I’ve already done the sex-life joke, so you can insert it yourself here if the mood takes you. Pharrnh!).

We went to check out the local gym. Most sports clubs in Japan do not cater for casual membership. You have to join. Also they are not on the cheap. I think a comparable cost in Australia would be paying full price for a movie twice a week. However there are no tight-arse Tuesday memberships at the gym. You can, however, choose to limit your access time – night only membership, weekend only membership – and thus save money.

But you get what you pay for. The gym had a pool, wet and dry saunas, the latest machines, and the changing rooms look more like beauty salons. The men’s changing rooms have showers, hot baths, dressing tables, hair dryers, and for an additional charge the use of a tanning machine.

The machines were pretty high-tech. They have digital readouts that tell the weight lifted, the power generated by the lift, the number of reps done in the current set, and even if the action is too big or too small. Basically everything except lift the bloody weights for you. Also they have a memory stick-like slot. What for you ask?

Well your individual training program is put onto a sturdy key-shaped memory stick. You never have to remember your current settings for a machine, just put it in the slot and there they are. In the gym there are also ATM-like machines that unfortunately don’t dispense money, but can remind you of the details of your program, let the gym instructors leave messages for you, or let you leave messages for other members.

Joining the gym was an exercise in paperwork. Not only were there the financial details, but also a questionnaire that asks about your lifestyle and medical history. As it was all kanji it was beyond me. Recognizing a similar lack of understanding as with my high school math exams I solved this problem the same way. I cheated off the person next to me. In this case it was Mari.

The results from the questionnaire where mailed to our place a couple of days later. While there is a lot of gobbledygook, there is only one important stat. A cute weather-themed character represents your general physical condition.

Good news if you get big-eyed beaming sun in a clear blue sky.

I received a sad, rainy cloud that advised me that I should quit smoking, especially if I become pregnant.

On a bright note, Mari received a sad stormy cloud. Fortunately I can’t even cheat correctly. So that means I beat her in the test, doesn’t it?

In addition to the paper quiz came a free doctor’s examination involving a blood test and being hooked up to Dr. Frankenstein’s machine. Unfortunately one can’t eat for four hours before the examination, or it will skew the results. While this was only four hours, it was torture. I think it must have been that I couldn’t have food that I wanted it so much. Every ramen store I passed seemed to be taunting me to come in. I do, however, have a sneaking suspicion that ramen contributed to my sad cloud. Also Valentine’s Day approaches, so the smell of chocolate was overpowering in the department stores.

I’m booked in to get a program on the 14th, so until then I’ve been given a beginner’s program. It involved 10 minutes warm-up on the bike, some stretching, and what I thought were insulting small weights. That was until I finished them for the first time and went home. Completely zonked, yet surprising hungry, I ate a second dinner of coffee and Pringles and crashed into futon. Oh yes, this is going to be a big success.

I’ve been 3 times now. While the original pain hasn't lessened, it has moved to a different part of my body after each visit. This suggests the pain may be a living entity, and is just trying to find the coziest part of me in which to dwell. Right now it’s under my armpits, so I figure it won’t be there long.

Yesterday was the first time to use the pool. I haven’t done laps since I went to Australia for Miss Alix’s wedding. At that time I could swim a kilometer and leap out of the water feeling refreshed. Ah, quit thinking about the good old days you drippy git. Yesterday I was out of breath after 100 meters and my arms had been replaced with lead pipes. Not muscular lead pipes, but thin white bread-boy ones. I consoled myself with 10 minutes in the Jacuzzi with a couple of Japanese Tinkerbells.

Now that’s what I call exercise.