Today I discovered, that nothing feels quite as worthy as driving to the gym, while listening to classical music. I had mistakenly put on Classic FM (instead of my usual morning chum Frank Mitchell) and suddenly I was transported to a parallel universe, where I was head to toe in Joules or possibly Boden, cruising in my Range Rover, humming along to Verdi's Aida. One glance at my gnatty tracksuit bottoms, LoverBoy's washed out t shirt and the shamefully grubby inside of my minivan, knocked that fantasy firmly on the head.
On meeting Damien D at the gym, he informed me that he planned to work me hard today on account of the big night out tonight( and I suspect as damage limitation for St Patrick's Day!) So, after a brief warmup, (possibly undermined by my usual last minute need to pee before we set off -must remember to work those pelvic floors), we set off RUNNING a mile loop close to the gym. So far so good.... except it wasn't. I don't know whether it was the slightly defeated, negative mood I'd had first thing this morning, or the fact that we were 'going for a run' as opposed to 'going for a walk and running in little spurts' but after a few hundred metres, I had to stop because I thought I was going to die. (I do love a bit of drama, but you catch my drift). So we walked , then ran the last bit but I was annoyed at myself. Damien was great-he refused to let me fall into my old habit of focusing on what I haven't achieved as opposed to what I have, and I went on to have a REALLY tough but great workout.
After the run/walk it was straight on to the Crosstrainer for 15 mins-Damien programmed in a hill, making it much tougher and I was sweating (sorry -glowing) after that.( Tangent alert-seriously-what is it with mirrors in gyms- who thought of that great idea!!?? Does anyone really want to look at their worst, red faced, sweaty self, huffing and puffing away, in front of an unforgiving full length, wall to wall mirror? Unwelcome realisations abounded such as "I didn't realise my arse looked as big as that from this very unflattering angle".)
After the crosstrainer, it was into the other Torture chamber (Damien's words not mine!) and I got stuck into the boxercise and boy did I give that bag a beating today. (Ladies and Gentlemen.. in the red corner....) My arms were ACHING by the end of it but I was positively buzzing. Then it was on to the mat for extensive leg lifts (most unflattering in the mirror) , more arm work with a heavy ball thing that looked a bit like a bowling ball with handles, then 50 situps, followed by MORE legwork-Damien produced an exercise ball (the last time I was on one of those I was bouncing on it about to give birth!) and I had to lean on it against the wall and slowly go from standing to crouching and back again-bloody hell! Then it was MORE armwork, using weights doing a" tree hugging exercise" on the weights bench-don't even ask! I crawled out of there to guzzle down several paper cones (why?) of water and then it was back on to the treadmill for 15 minutes brisk walking and I even ran the last 5 minutes-RESULT! During the whole time Damien was monitoring me-checking for lightheadness, or pain, or pins and needles (there were none! ) and pushing me to my physical limits, while really encouraging me and cheering me on-amazing!
So by the end (and it was nearly an hour and a half !) I was really tired but felt really good. The funny thing is, I don't look any different, I certainly don't feel I've lost any weight and yet I FEEL more comfortable in my own skin, with a good bit more respect for what my body is capable of doing. So that's got to be a good thing, don't you think? And I'm really looking forward to getting tarted up for a good night tonight, celebrating Loverboy's last birthday in his 30s...a few cheeky vinos with friends and maybe even a wee boogie thrown in-let the good times roll! Have a fab weekend everybody, Emxxx