No matter how well you think you've planned something, you just can't win. I mean, nothing is ever just never simple, is it?

I'm in reasonably decent physical condition. I play a lot of sport and gym quite regularly. My diet's not great but I'm fortunate to never have had to put any real effort into maintaining an athletic shape.

But as part of my new life I've decided I want to be able to accomplish some random things, like the London to Brighton charity bike ride next year (56 miles), and a marathon too, and some sort of enormous swim as well - perhaps across the channel (if David Walliams can do it, why can't i?) or if not, then at least that far in a pool. None of this is for any real purpose, just to be able to say I did them more than anything else. And of course it wouldn't hurt if they were for charity or something and actually did someone some good.

So I need to get from decent shape into marathon running, long distance cycling, crazy triathlon, huge swimming type shape. And that's going to require a little bit of commitment.

I decided my rather scattered and directionless attendences and regimes at the gym could do with a bit of organisation this week. Out with only going when I can be bothered, and only doing what I fancy doing each day. In with a plan. Structure, order, discipline... and several other actions words like these. Action words are the key I think.

I devised a light regime (just swimming), a medium (swimming and cardio gym), and a heavy (swim, cardio, and weights), and planned out the week quite carefully. Monday heavy, Tuesday light because I have a football match that evening, Wednesday heavy , thursday light, and friday another heavy one before I go away for the weekend.

But I ended up having to do a lot more work than I planned on Monday and only have time a quick swim. I was free of work on Tuesday so I tried to make up for Monday by doing a bit more, which in turn knackers me out for football. I have a rubbish game and am so sore and fatigued for Wednesday that I can't do anything at all.

But it's alright, I say, I can work at home on Thursday and Friday so there'll be plenty of time to catch up then. Instead, I'm still working away at 8pm both nights and I'm too worn out and frustrated to do anything other than eat and sleep. So three days have now passed and not a finger has been lifted. Dammit, I was up for it as well this week.

I'm a morning person, though, and exersion past 9pm is something of an issue - I'm winding down to unconsciousness by then.

Having worked so much the last two nights I've now scrapped my original plan for tomorrow because I need some relaxation time otherwise I'll die or quit my job or something. Hopefully that will give me the freedom to get up early and do a couple of hours of swimming and gymming first thing in the morning, before the weekend really starts!

While I'm on the subject of gyms, I have a bone to pick. Why, oh why, do some guys (it could be girls too, but the female changing rooms are unchartered territory for me) wander around naked as naturally as if they're in their bathroom at home?!

Don't get me wrong, I'm as comfortable with male nudity as any heterosexual man that doesn't really want to see other men naked. But there's a difference between the amount of naked that's unavoidably required in a communal changing area, and the amount that one has inflicted on them by random guys that just march around happily with everything dangling in the wind.

What are they doing?! You hop out the shower (with a towel round you, please), go to your locker, dry off, and get dressed. There is no need for nude marching!! And there is definitely no need for anyone to ever, EVER, get out of the pool and walk into the spa to be greeted by a naked guy climbing out of the jacuzzi that you were hoping to relax in!! That's just simply not necessary