Thursday, 6 November 2014
"They" say the gym is good for you but I've always hated it.
That's why I've just signed a 12-month contract at LA Fitness. Great, just bloody wonderful. (I invite you to spot the irony).
The thing is, after last month's Great North Run endeavour, it was painfully obvious to me that my half-marathon days are definitely over. Too far, too much training required and too old.
Also, whilst running up and down a road is healthy in lots of ways, it's also unhealthy in lots of others. Think knees, feet, ankles, back. Plus, although it leaves you with big leg muscles and lots of puff, the rest of your body is pretty much neglected. That's why I, for one, have weak arms and not a single can in my tummy pack.
So the gym it had to be.
I went this morning. I ran there, I concede. Before 20 minutes on one of those exercise bikes with a proper chair for middle-aged people. Followed by another 20 minutes trying to make my arms stronger by lifting weights. I'm sure they were longer rather than stronger by the time I'd finished, just like Mr Tickle. Then I ran back home.
Tomorrow I'm planning much the same.
As I (hopefully) get more into the whole thing, I might attend some spin classes. Plus a visit or two to the in-house bar; not something recommended to me in my induction but, if they don't think it's good for you, they shouldn't have a bar.
But the truth is, I really can't be arsed and would much prefer to release my inner fat bastard.
Maybe in 12 months.