Everyone has their own way of dealing with extraneous flesh and respiratory deterioration.
Some control their diet with the rigor of Reese Witherspoon and go for long walks, waving their arms around like angry spouses. (Which many of them appear to be.) Others staple their stomachs like a two-page letter from a lawyer. And there are those of us who go to gyms, where at least one can bike, read a book and laugh (inwardly, of course) at the progress of leotard design.
I choose to exercise at one of the amiable horse boxes in the stable of Crunch gyms.… Read more