There are a few limitations to doing all your gym work at home.
For starters, my treadmill hasn’t really worked (or, alas, been plugged in) since my baby daughter used it to propel her Barbie dolls across the lounge. (It’s currently housed in our garage, where it serves as a clothes horse in the damp winter months.)
For seconds (man, I miss seconds; this eating plan is starting to get to me), it’s not quite so easy to run laps around my lounge. I could, of course, run around the block… but I’m not sure how that fits into the whole “home workout vibe”. And I don’t particularly enjoy running anyway.
But run I must, because during our Sports Science Institute testing I was a bad, bad man.
Part of the test involved running around the gym track (they have a track in their gym) as many times as possible within a 12-minute period. Arthur, Clinton, Dylan and the team (they’re the blokes over there down the right) treated this a true test, running 18, 19, 20 laps apiece. The testers told me that, “If you do 14 laps you’ve done about two kays”, so I aimed to run 14 laps and then be done with it.
Until I saw Hishaam running.
Hishaam used to be a smoker, he used to be my gym partner, and (for reasons that are soon to become apparent) he used to be my friend.
I saw him struggling. Wheezing. Gasping for air. And that’s when I pressed my internal “Be A Rotten Bastard” button (I believe Tim Noakes talks about that in his books. If he doesn’t, he should. Every athlete has one, and they do love to press it).
I would sprint a few metres ahead of Hishaam, then start walking. Then, just as he caught up with me, I’d let him pass me, before sprinting past him like it wasn’t a problem for me at all.
It crushed his spirit and destroyed his confidence.
I won.
Mwoo-hoo-ha-hah!
As a result, I clocked 14 laps and Hishaam clocked 13.5 laps.
And now Hishaam has sworn revenge.
The dude has been klapping the treadmills in the gym like a man possessed. He’s been showing me his times. (“Check, bru,” he tells me. “Three kays in 18 minutes, and that was just my warm-up. I can go much faster than that. See you at the test.”)
I think I’m going to have to pound some serious pavement this week.
Also, he’s been doing Muay Thai (or “moo tie” or whatever). At the very least, I’m going to have to get my pace up so that I can run away from his vendetta-swearing self.

This is an actual photo Hishaam sent me. I’m in a world of trouble…