As a 38-year-old active bloke standing at 5'9", I've been putting in the hard graft at the gym these past few months. It all kicked off in the summer after a noticeable slump in my active lifestyle, and since January, I've been going at it full steam ahead.

I can last for hours on the elliptical trainer, tackling those hill and incline modes at top level. Even when I'm out hiking with the dogs, I've got a spring in my step that lasts for miles. Plus, I've been hitting the weights too—I can squat and leg press heavy weights, and my legs are feeling strong and muscular.

But here's the thing - I don't bother with the scales. I've been down that road before, obsessing over calorie counts and all that jazz. I remember when I was at my lightest, I was 12 stone 5 pounds, but I was too skinny and fixated on the numbers. The last time I weighed myself was when I moved into my place seven years back, and I was 14 stone. I had to do it for life insurance alongside my mortgage.

This morning, feeling pretty confident as I tried on some older clothes, I was in for a shock. I assumed I'd be lighter, but turns out, I hit 15 stone. It knocked the wind out of my sails, I'll admit. I'm feeling good, looking fitter, but should I let the scales throw me off? I've never been one to sweat over BMI; I've always been fit, running half marathons, hill races, and getting stuck into competitive football. But still, it's a bit of a gut punch.

Thankfully, I know this isn't a sprint; it's a marathon. It's about making lifestyle changes for the long haul. But man, it'd be nice for the scales to reflect the progress I'm seeing and feeling.