Gym Bunny In Waiting, Duracells Missing
Do you ever watch those people who are absolutely passionate about exercise with envy? With their sweaty, smiley faces as they happily head off on a cold winter’s evening for an hour or so of punishment, or forego a nice Sunday afternoon reading so they can push their bodies to the limit.
My husband’s a member of that super exercise club. With three bikes and counting, he cycles a minimum of 80 miles each week and comes back from each ride with a grin on his face that would make Goofy proud. And I often wonder what I need to do to be part of this club. Because, on a serious note my waistline could do with it!
Don’t think I haven’t tried. There’s an unused bike sitting in my shed, which I’ve cursed and sweated up hills, while my husband has politely cycled circles around me. My Wii-fit sits patiently in my front room for its occasional quarterly (if it’s lucky) usage. I’ve done exercise classes, ugly machines and fought frizzy hair and scary swimsuit syndrome at my local pool.
About five years ago I actually succeeded at some sort of exercise. While on one of my many weight loss drives I trained for a 10k run. A huge feat for me in terms of fitness. Marathon runners look away now! At the peak of my training often getting in from work after a 12 hour day, I would run two or three miles every other day and then a four or five mile run at the weekend. It was hard, I encountered multiple blisters and discovered what on earth shin splints were. Before this adventure I’d run no further than the end of my road. For me, it was an amazing achievement.
But, at the end of it all as I walked away with my shiny gold medal, I have to admit that part of me was glad to be getting back on with my life. It was an achievement, a goal, but not an enduring passion.
In fact the only exercise that I can ever seem to look forward to is my nightly jaunt with my canine companion Boris. But that’s simply walking, and my worry is that it’s just not cardio vascular enough for my overall health. Sadly walking never really gets you out of breath.
So is it just the case that some people don’t like exercise or am I still waiting to discover that hidden sport that will embrace me in its obsessive arms?
Hmm, maybe it’s time I bought a trampoline, an ab-master pro or maybe a sexy old thigh master. There’s got to be something out there I love surely?