First, we are now into April, almost 100 enjoyable barbecue-filled summery days from those well-meaning dual New Year's resolutions I'm sure you are familiar with - Lose Weight and Get Fit.

Second, my wall planner is full of unfulfilled best intentions.

For example, on January 5 where it says "bike ride" it should say "hangover". I distinctly remember that as the day after the barbecue the night before when the Scottish Plumber celebrated his birthday with a wee dram. Or three.

And on February 19 when I should have been "running" I recall it being too comfortable on the front deck with The Gang to do anything other than have a momentary thought about my new shoes which after one painful run were by then starting to gather dust in the back of the closet.


Now that I think about it there were quite a few reasons why I couldn't get going on my New Year resolutions.

Wet, hot, windy, too sunny, too dark all spring to mind.

But then there were some other even more compelling reasons not to get off one's chuff and get into it.

Like you can only start an exercise programme on a Monday. Or my shorts had shrunk and I needed new ones. Or North Korea and Donald Trump were arguing. Or you can only start an exercise programme on a day when the temperature is 16.3298731 degrees Celsius, the sun is at a 30.4590 degree angle in the sky, the hole in the ozone layer is only 10,459.345 kilometres wide and Brexit has finally been sorted.


By now you may have worked out I've been lacking in motivation.

Obviously I need to do something about it otherwise a sighting of my toes (which I've always felt were pretty darn good and could have landed me a toe modelling contract in New York. Just saying) will sadly remain but a memory.



I'm filling the wall planner up with some new good intentions.

I'll lose 10kg in the next month or so. Cut out chocolate, sausage rolls, gin. All the bad stuff. And I'll only eat steamed veges with that kale stuff or drink fruit smoothies.

Then I'll make sure I run 10km a day, bike at least 100km a week and swim 50 lengths. if there's a tall building available I'll leap over that in one bound too like Superman.

Yep, I reckon give me a couple or three months my toes will be back in sight, my belly will be sunken to the point my six pack will be emerging from hibernation and I'll be so fit Mrs P will be thinking I'm 20 again.

I might even go for a run later to give it all a good kick start.

If it's not too cool that is. And if I can find my shorts. And if that programme I've been watching on telly isn't at a crucial part in the story.

Now I think about it I'm sure there's bound to be roadworks along my planned route and Brexit is still as messed up as ever.



Maybe I'll start tomorrow.

■ Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz