Exercise - taking baby steps

It is a Wednesday morning and I'm supposed to have revved up for my weekly weigh in. However, just as with last week I'm not really in a position to do so.

My second son was born last Monday. As expected he underwent surgery within hours to sort out his lesion and repair his spinal column, having been diagnosed with spina bifida. The operation went well and the plastic surgeons appear to have done brilliantly to leave him with a nice little scar on his lower back.

The diet has inevitably taken a bit of a back seat during the last 10 days during which time I've only spent 2 nights in my own bed. On only one day did I eat like a pig, and the rest of the time it has been a question of making sure to eat. I had no qualms about eating a celebratory Subway on the day my boy was born. Given I'd not eaten anything all day and was operating from very little sleep and nervous energy following his delivery, a footlong was certainly in order.

I did take advantage of the layout of the hospital to ensure I got a little exercise during the stay. With my son on the 4th floor and the lifts often busy, two or three times a day I'd climb the stairs to see my son. All 96 of them. Repeat that several times over the course of a week and I had a tidy little workout. Unless going downstairs with my wife, who following a c-section had limited mobility, I always went down the stairs rather than wait for a lift.

Being in London meant being without a car, so I found that my feet were my primary mode of transport. Walking to shops, to and from the station, between lodgings and the hospital. A fair amount of mileage clocked.

Going into this period, I was concerned about how I'd fare with dieting though adversity. I guess the proof will be in the pudding when I get to mount those bathroom scales. If I'm up or down, in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter much. What is important is my son is here, a beautiful baby boy and well worth climbing 96 steps to see.