Being honest, my lifestyle up to 40 had been pretty punishing. I’d smoked in my twenties, drank plenty, lived on hotel food, loved a party, and did almost no exercise. So, when the corporate medical flagged my high blood pressure I decided to sort myself out. Review my diet and reignite the childhood joy of cycling between villages to see my friends.
Why is Everything in a Diet that tastes Good, Bad for you?
My GP was clear: change the lifestyle, keep taking the small dose of Ramipril, and see the nurse regularly. The nurse didn’t hold back. She condemned my daily intake of cheese and/or ham rolls (with crisps), coffee and a Mars bar for elevenses, my love of mincemeat, and basically everything else I enjoyed eating.
She taught me about food labelling, something I’d never paid attention to. Keep salt under 6g a day (2.4g sodium). Not easy when salt was in everything I ate. Even tinned sardines in tomato sauce, which I thought were helping my cholesterol, were loaded with sodium and even some tinned tomatoes had too much salt.
As my four‑year‑old son once put it:
“Why is everything that tastes good, bad for you, and everything that tastes bad, good for you?”
Fair point, T.
Homemade Ragu
Shopping suddenly became complicated. Meals were going to be a challenge. But I soon found new recipes and started cooking from scratch and using tricks like lemon juice instead of salt (thank you Jamie Oliver), homemade ragus, and avoiding jars like Dolmio, which I discovered contained an entire day’s salt allowance. Half a jar plus cheese and garlic bread? You’ve smashed it.
Cheese and ham turned into chicken and tuna, Coffee became decaf tea and water. Mars bars became homemade oat, raisin and milk bars. Pumpkin seeds replaced crisps and salted peanuts. Breakfast became a blackcurrant Innocent smoothie mixed with milk and Benecol soya drink.
And water – what a healer. When you’re dehydrated, your body releases vasopressin, a hormone that narrows blood vessels and raises blood pressure. Staying hydrated keeps vasopressin low and your arteries relaxed. We need around 2.5 litres a day or 4 to 5 pints.
What it takes to become a MAMIL
Alongside the diet, I started cycling. I bought a low‑end mountain bike from the local shop in Matlock and was embarrassingly out of breath riding it the mile home. But I persevered and soon upgraded to a Trek road bike, a thing of beauty. Of course, to ride a road bike, you need The Gear. Everything was expensive, the shoes, the pedals and the lights. I asked the guy in the shop whether this particular front light would do.
“It’ll be fine for normal road use,” the chap said, “but you might struggle going downhill in the dark at 60 mph.”
When on earth was I going to be doing that?
So I bought it.
And ohh yes — the Lycra shorts, with Wrestler style braces and a tight fitting shirt. I had officially become a MAMIL (Middle Aged Man In Lycra). When i first took the bike out with all the gear, I felt like a prat but I was going to do this.
After a couple of months, I had long since embraced the MAMIL, the endorphins had kicked in and I was hooked. From now on, I had to earn a pint.
From WWE to the Tour de France
As recommended by the guy in the shop, I joined the Matlock Cycling Club. When I turned up at Matlock Crown roundabout at 18:55, the members arrived looking professional: aero helmets, legs like tree trunks and cool bikes with solid wheels. I felt out of place with my white legs, budgie smuggler, high-viz jacket and aluminium bike. Before we set off one rider warned me that if I couldn’t stay on the back of the group, don’t try to catch up. I lasted about 300 metres and let them go.
Deflated but not flat out, I later found that there was a B team that met on Tuesdays. They were a wonderful, patient group. They taught me how to ride in a peloton and were happy for me to sit in the middle to rest between hills. You barely have to pedal when you’re an inch behind the rider in front of you. I had great times with them, especially the night I found myself tearing down a hill at 62 mph (Endomondo confirmed it) in pitch black with my candle‑like bike light. Ah yes, that’s what the guy in the shop meant.
Cycling in Derbyshire
Riding regularly, I built up to 100 miles a week. I tackled the Peak District 40 miler, Winnats Pass and Matlock’s infamous Bank Road. We rode in all weathers, and I was getting fit. It felt good to be doing something positive.
Now I’m a competitive soul, so when cycling alone, I’d compare times on similar routes and try to beat them. I remember once, on the home straight, overtaking stationary traffic to beat my record, I shouted, “COME ON!!” As the seconds ticked down. I nearly gave an old couple in an open‑top MX‑5 a heart attack as the lady shrieked in surprise I realised I had shouted in her ear.
The Result
All of this effort was going to bring my blood pressure down and it did, to an extent. I got the systolic down to 130/140. But the diastolic refused to budge. It stayed stubbornly above 90 and often crept up to 98/99. It was incredibly frustrating. Two years of being a MAMIL and serious diet changes, and my medication doses were still increasing. The GP didn’t have an explanation. He just told me not to be disappointed and reminded me the doses were low.
Life took a tough turn around 45, and my fitness regime wobbled. A second tablet (Amlodipine) was added alongside Ramipril, which had increased to 10mg. My MAMIL days were over.
It didn’t make sense. I was doing everything right. But the numbers weren’t behaving the way they should have. It was honestly depressing. My blood pressure kept rising each year and I had no idea why.
If any of the above sounds familiar bookmark this page and Episode 3 will be out soon.