So, when I left you last, I had just joined my local gym to try to help me to unwind, de-stress and feel a bit less lardy. I was excited about the power plate machine, completely blasé about the aerobics class and nervous about my gym induction.
The first time I went to an aerobics class was probably in the 80’s and the instructors all dressed in pink lycra leotards with matching headbands and leg warmers. Well, they did on the telly, anyway.
Then, you stepped a bit from side to side, raised your arms over your head to the left and then to the right and maybe did a few leg lifts on a mat.
You certainly did not alternate between star jumps, squat thrusts, high kicks, right hooks and boom boom shake the room jiggy dance moves and collapse in a heap on the parquet floor 10 minutes into the class, bright red, panting and in a puddle of sweat.
‘Shall we take it up a notch’ the instructor said as I wrung out my secret support vest top.
‘Yes!’ piped up the twenty-something girl next to me ‘I’m up for it!’.
Oh, pipe down will you.
Quite frankly, all I was up for was sitting down, breathing into a brown paper bag and trying not to have a heart attack. However, I carried on and tried my best to keep up, but my co-ordination was all over the place, my stamina was shot and I was feeling considerably more stressed than when I first arrived. Maybe I should have started with something a bit less ambitious, like water aerobics…
Anyway, that was Sunday.
On Tuesday, I had my official gym induction with Kentley. After taking my blood pressure (very good), examining my diet (very bad), he showed me how to use the cross trainer and the treadmill and told me that was all I’d need for the first few weeks.
‘What about the power plate? The machine that jiggles all your cellulite away?’ I asked excitedly as I made eyes at it across the floor.
‘All that vibrating is not good for your eyes’ he said in all seriousness.
I made a mental note to ask someone else next time I was there. I am not ready to give up on the dream of the power plate just yet, even if it does threaten to dislodge my eyeballs from their sockets.
I would love to know what you think… is the gym a good stress fix or a great big fat yawn?