Winter Jogging

Note: the following post has been jointly rated R18 by the Irish Film Classification Office, The Motion Picture Association of America, the Eiga Rinri Kanrai Iinkai, and my wife. It contains pictures of spurious near-nudity and bodily hair, which may cause some of our more easily, ahem, aroused readers to entertain thoughts of full body contact 'hey makarena'.

One of the great challenges of winter here in Hokkaido is maintaining some semblance of fitness. This can be achieved by either (a) shoveling snow every feckin day; (b) steroids; or (c) jogging. I do all three (as can be seen from the photos below showing my muscular physique, toned legs and lactating breasts).

The key to jogging in sub-zero temperatures is layering. Actually, come to think of it, the key to jogging in sub-zero temperatures is not to go jogging at all, but unfortunately the steroids have decimated my common sense.

The first layer is essentially wind protection. It also makes you look a bit 'gay Central Park jogger', but its either Hammerstein & Rodgers' musicals on my iPod, or death from wind-chill.

Hello limbs (note toes still tapping to 'West Side Story').

Next is the inner 'core warmth' layer and yes, my head really is that big.

Now steady ladies (and fellow 'Oklahoma' fans) - we are getting to the first layer, to some of you perhaps, the 'finest' layer. These should wick sweat. In any direction. But wick. Wick. Wick. Wick.

And finally (feel free to swoon), we have my rampaging body hair. After 14 successive Hokkaido winters, my body has evolved a sort of thick, matted, coarse rug covering, that traps both warmth and small hibernating animals. I am a walking rebuke to all those bat-shit crazy Creationists out there, which is why I am banned from the state of Kentucky.

Such is the neo-Darwinism I embody (evolution on speed as it were), that I have developed copious amounts of toe hair too. And yes, I would like to share that with you all. (Note: the donut-shaped bulge around my waist was due to the distortion effect of the lens, the close focal point, and the low f-stop. It was in no way due to the double-chocolate-chip muffin I have with my mid-morning cup of tea).