Ray Foley

It's that time of year again: time for Ray Foley to get fit and give up drink. A few days in and he's ready to pass out.

I woke up on the floor, face up. I was in a cold sweat, the ceiling light blinding - but incredibly, I felt a bit better. “Hey” I thought, “at least I don’t want to get sick any more.”

My latest misadventure came as a direct result of my new year’s resolutions. First, I’ve decided to drink less than I usually do - or did. In the last few months of 2010, I got into the lazy habit of having a glass of wine, a beer or a gin and tonic in the evening. Maybe I’m not being entirely truthful with you. I’m one of those people that says “a glass” - which to most people means singular, when in  fact I should say “a couple of glasses” which actually means “a couple of glasses, maybe three”.

Could I be an alcoholic? I don’t know. I don’t think so, but of course I’d prefer to think not. In my younger days, I was a much heavier drinker and I decided to give it up. Then every now and again it creeps back into my routine until I nip it in the bud again. I don’t think I’m addicted to it, but I can certainly see how one could get hooked - not to use it as a crutch or a comforting mechanism, but because it’s an easily-accessible thing to do which I enjoy very much. Drink is lovely.

Perhaps that’s why I don’t consider myself an alcoholic? I just like drinking too much.

Anyway, I’m doing the usual giving-booze-up-for-January thing, with the optimistic goal of staying off it for February too. I’m planning a lapse at the end of the month, then a complete blowout by the time March rolls around.

Belly

The eight-week deadline has been applied to my belly too. The battle of the post-Christmas bulge is on, and while I reckon giving up the pints (of wine) will go a long way towards shedding the extra stone I’ve managed to pile on in the last couple of months, a strict diet and exercise regime is probably also in order.

I did the very same thing in January 2008, when I started working out with a personal trainer, cut the carbs and dropped the booze. After a few months of hard slog, I managed to shift around three stone - so two days into my 2011, I made an appointment at The Edge gym in Clontarf for some one-on-one ass-kicking.

Dave Mulqueen and I have been through a lot together over the years. Well, he’s been through a lot. I bitch and moan about every exercise he makes me do. I’m almost always late. I regularly cancel at the last minute. Against his advice, I eat the wrong food and I regularly quit. He hadn’t seen me for several weeks, so you can imagine his delight when he saw my name flash on his phone.

On the other hand, I was actually looking forward to our 6-o’clock appointment. I spent the day excited to be getting back to work again and enthusiastic about the prospects of seeing the results I previously achieved. With that excitement and enthusiasm, I burst into a steady warm-up session on the exercise bike for ten minutes, then into steps for another ten, lunges for another, lifts and resistance training after that.

I did what any hardcore gym-bunny would do: I decided to curl up on the floor.

I hadn’t even had a walk in weeks, and now here I was, fighting fit and burning fat! I was a killer! With only five minutes left to go, the session seemed to fly past - this was gonna be a walk in the park!

And then I passed out.

Well, it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that. I finished up my warm-down and hopped off the exercise bike - then, just as we were confirming our next appointment, I thought it best that I sit down. Uh-oh. I was pretty sure I was going to get sick. I was in a cold sweat, dizzy, short of breath and I was certain I’d never make it to the jacks. So I did what any hardcore gym-bunny would do: I decided to curl up on the floor. I closed my eyes for a few seconds - which turned out to be about a minute - and then I woke up again a pale, pasty overweight puddle of sweat.

I’m going back again on Friday.