Sunday, 6 December 2015

Week 217- sweating, cycling and forgetting your underwear...

So I've done it. 

I've joined a gym. 

It costs about 4p a month, no induction, open 24 hours a day (I will be using it for a approximately 0.5 of those hours a week) and you have to go through a kind of 'beam me up Scotty' style tube to get in.

So it's not the Hilton.

But it's a gym.

I joined on-line at 11.30pm after half a bottle of vin rouge.

I had had a dinner that was 90% Red Leicester, 10% spaghetti.

My slendertone had run out of batteries.

And I thought, instead of going to the garage at the top of the road to buy some more triple A's, I was going to take decisive action.

To sweat. 

To get fit.

To do some actual exercise that involves more than pushing a supermarket trolley containing a weekly shop and two children around.

And more to the point, I'm going to attempt to fit into the 96% of clothes that have been left untouched for the last three years, in favour of a pair of stretching H and M jeans and a rotation of bobbly T shirts.

I've got a proper job.

I'm kicking on 40.

I've got to stop dressing like a drama student who's blown her grant on a trip to India and budgeted the remaining £22 for a yearly clothes allowance. 

The morning after joining the gym I checked the small print and I definitely couldn't get my money back.

So, wearing, what the untrained eye might assume was a pair of maternity leggings and a T shirt I wear in bed, I shuffled down to said gym, with my work clothes stuffed in a carrier bag, as I rightly assumed that if I didn't go RIGHT THEN, I'd ignore the fact I'd joined at all.

I locked up my belongings and headed to the treadmill that was facing a full length mirror.

Gym fact one.

I'm an ugly runner. 

I knew I was an ugly cryer. 

Fine. 

Even Kate Winslet looks questionable when she's having a beal in Titanic.

But facing my bright red sweating face for 11 minutes as I wheezed through a kilometre does not an oil painting maketh. 

Gym fact two. 

You do actually need an induction.

After trying to unsuccessfully get five exercise bikes to work, I started to wonder if that's why it was so cheap, cos everything's bust.

Until the cleaner told me I had to move the pedals to get them started.

A laminated sheet telling you to do that wouldn't be out of the question.

So five minutes and 43 calories later I'm feeling like I've nailed my first gym session.

My head's a bit spinny in an early 90s recreational drugs kind of way.

And I'm looking forward to a shower without anyone shouting 'MUUMMMIIIEEEEEEE!' at the top of their voice when...

Gym fact three

You should pack your gym bag the night before. Or if you're going to do it in the morning, turn a light on so you can see what you're doing. 

I have a dress.

Tights.

A makeup bag.

A My Little Pony.

A size 5 nappy.

And that's it.

No underwear.

So. A quick trip to a Peacocks for a cheap ill-fitting leopard print bra, and I'm ready to start the day.

First gym session.

Done.

At this rate I am so going to be running a marathon by the new year.


 

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