Sport, whether played in a team or singly, is essentially a selfish pursuit. I want to get fit, I want to improve my flexibility and coordination, I want to forget work and - well, you know how it is sometimes - I want to forget the family. Lots of 'I's happen, in any case.

Bringing up children ends up generating not a little internal tension between selfishness and selflessness, despite the best protestations of celebrities that it has finally taught them to think about others. It is also the cause of some sporting ingenuity.  For example, throwing an 8 kg baby around for a little several times a day helps to keep the upper body muscles active. Hauling two children and a child's bike in a bike trailer is good for the legs and stamina. Not just standing around in the swimming pool, but actively swimming and splashing around expends some energy. My evening rides around the block with the eldest, whilst fun, don't really count other than as chances to get some fresh air.

Time off for a couple of hours on the mountain bike of a weekend, or an evening run, is the pinnacle of sporting activity granted to me at the moment; I a also manage to get in a late-night hour of squash per week at the moment. Despite all of this, my sports equipment is overwhelmingly static.

And yet - when I think back to my single days, how much sports did I do at the time? Not particularly much more than I do now. Having children does seem to have concentrated the mind on what's important, for me as well as for the others. I am more aware of the worth of trying to keep things active, like writing this blog, rather than passively surfing. Getting out rather than lolling about. Making more of my time.

(phew, that was exhausting. Time for a cup of tea, actively made.)

Oh, and I am also sensitive enough to know that all of this is valid for my wife, too; currently stuck as the "milk bar", she's certainly got a good metabolism. But exercise? Not much - we'll make some time for her, too.