Ever heard the expression “gym junkie”? This is not just a throw-away phrase to signify people who love working out. It actually comes from a serious disorder known as exercise addiction. Exercise addiction is a compulsion towards physical activity, and it’s a serious condition. You may be thinking, “I wish I had that!” because most people are lazy and have the opposite problem, but you have no idea how bad it is. Exercise addiction causes mental and physical strain and fatigue well above normal levels and can be damaging to one’s health. Since I joined AA — Athlete’s Anonymous — and started oxygen therapy in Melbourne, I’ve slowly been getting better.
My friends and family saw my condition deteriorating over a matter of months, as I could spend hours at the gym every night and wake up early for my 4 km pre-work run. Nobody could get through to me, I hadn’t faced up to the fact that I had a problem. Then the day came when I pushed myself way too far. I woke up at 5 am and decided to extend my morning run to 6 km. When I got to work, I was still not content with my work-out and so jogged during my half hour break instead of eating. After work, I went to the gym for my usual routine – treadmill, squats and weights. The last thing I remember is lifting a 10 kg dumbbell because I woke up twenty four hours later in hospital. I’d collapsed from exhaustion.
Since admitting that I have a problem and attending my AA meetings weekly, I’ve slowly been recovering from my exercise addiction. Now, I only workout once a day for half an hour and I spend another half hour afterwards having hyperbaric therapy. Melbourne doctors recommend sitting in the hyperbaric chamber after exercise to help the muscles regenerate, and mine are in a particularly sore and sorry state after how hard I pushed them. It’s going to be a long and tough road, but I’m looking forward to my recovery.
My wife’ sister is flying in from New Zealand in a couple of weeks and we’re preparing for her stay. It’s her and her husband’s first time in Australia so we want to give them a great first impression of the place. They’re the kind of people who love nature, they’re not big into the big city bustle, but luckily we don’t live too close to the city. We live in a really nice area that’s not too far drive from the Murray. So we’re planning on taking them out with the boat for a day trip to do a bit of fishing and have some lunch somewhere nice. I’m going to have to get my marine fabrications and
It’s 2016, last time I checked. My computer should NOT be shutting down when it comes to simple tasks. All I want to do is send an email to my boss, and I’m thinking at this point that it might be quicker to just send him a letter. Not even first class, either. I’m just sitting in my chair, waiting for this whole thing to load and slowly dying of heart failure because this thing drives my blood pressure through the roof. Honestly, if I had-oh, hang on, it’s fine. Yeah, okay, it loaded. Bit of hyperbole.
I was always a tomboy growing up. Not even a tomboy, more of an extremely reckless and brattish punk. I was so naughty, the boys couldn’t even keep up. I used to smash caps for cap guns with a hammer underneath my desk just to make the teacher, who was on the brink of nervous breakdown, flip. I was sadistic, I loved watching my parents and teachers struggle to deal with me. They could make me sit in the corner all they wanted, they could force me into detention and even give me disciplinary spank on the bottom – but really, so what? I’d found the key to naughtiness – that there’s nothing they can do – and exploited it at a very young age.
Our bathroom started leaking. There was clearly a problem with the drains. We didn’t know what was going on until we called the company who do