She called it "Christmas Combat", even though the real "Christmas Combat" is on Monday. I felt cheated.
But this week Body Combat featured some truly horrific countdowns, and believe me there were no festive pictures of chocolates behind the door.
Seriously, who counts things down from 32!? I'm having to adjust my positioning so I can type without lifting my elbows after completing 64 punches and around 128 high knees.
She did offer us Quality Street at the end but seeing as half my internal organs felt like they were in the wrong place I thought I'd better give it a miss until they had settled and I wouldn't accidentally swallow a toffee into my kidneys.
Owwee.
Friday 21 December 2012
Tuesday 18 December 2012
On the second gym of Christmas, Virgin gave to me... Will Power and Grace™
Two things I have very little of.
This class is new, to me, because it has literally never been listed as a class online or on the wall timetable - yet apparently it's been running for a year and today was the last day to try it. Lucky me, eh?
The online picture gave it three sweat drops, so I figured it would be tough. And I was not disappointed.
There were only four of us taking the class, which apparently is the magic number for breaking down the fourth wall. One lady told me all I'd need were my bare feet, which luckily I had with me, so I stripped off my trainers and socks and was immediately ashamed of my chipped, green toe nail vanish.
I found a spot between the little pile of mud and a pool of what I hope was not sweat, and waited to "rock and roll" as the instructor chirpily announced.
I'm not sure what I was expected. Possibly a lively, slightly homosexual comedy romp. Possibly an aerobics class with some ab work. But a body conditioning/pilates/ballet class combo was definitely not that. Seriously the instructor must be built like a rock, and she was unbelievably Grace™ful. There were a lot of squats and lunges in there, with extra crazy things like lifting your heels from the floor whilst in the squat position. And something I was actually very good because it resembled when you have both hands on red on a Twister™ mat and then you have to put your feet on red as well. I never thought my slight obsession with bringing out the Twister™ mat would finally pay off one day.
Being able to see myself in the mirror from various angles (including the the corner of the mirror where the illusion was that my reflection was doing the opposite to me... weird) completely confirmed I have as much Grace™ as an Ent and I certainly lack muscle length in my legs. I'd say my Willpower™ is passable though.
The class got harder and harder and I don't think I've ever experienced happiness like the moment she said "We only have ten minutes left" and I realised it was a 45 minutes class, not a 60 minute class.
At the moment I feel pretty nifty but the chances of me being able to walk tomorrow are virtually zero. Luckily office Christmas party wine will no doubt loosen me up.
Class gets 8/10. It would have got 9 had it not been a ghost class that no longer exists.
This class is new, to me, because it has literally never been listed as a class online or on the wall timetable - yet apparently it's been running for a year and today was the last day to try it. Lucky me, eh?
The online picture gave it three sweat drops, so I figured it would be tough. And I was not disappointed.
There were only four of us taking the class, which apparently is the magic number for breaking down the fourth wall. One lady told me all I'd need were my bare feet, which luckily I had with me, so I stripped off my trainers and socks and was immediately ashamed of my chipped, green toe nail vanish.
I found a spot between the little pile of mud and a pool of what I hope was not sweat, and waited to "rock and roll" as the instructor chirpily announced.
I'm not sure what I was expected. Possibly a lively, slightly homosexual comedy romp. Possibly an aerobics class with some ab work. But a body conditioning/pilates/ballet class combo was definitely not that. Seriously the instructor must be built like a rock, and she was unbelievably Grace™ful. There were a lot of squats and lunges in there, with extra crazy things like lifting your heels from the floor whilst in the squat position. And something I was actually very good because it resembled when you have both hands on red on a Twister™ mat and then you have to put your feet on red as well. I never thought my slight obsession with bringing out the Twister™ mat would finally pay off one day.
Being able to see myself in the mirror from various angles (including the the corner of the mirror where the illusion was that my reflection was doing the opposite to me... weird) completely confirmed I have as much Grace™ as an Ent and I certainly lack muscle length in my legs. I'd say my Willpower™ is passable though.
The class got harder and harder and I don't think I've ever experienced happiness like the moment she said "We only have ten minutes left" and I realised it was a 45 minutes class, not a 60 minute class.
At the moment I feel pretty nifty but the chances of me being able to walk tomorrow are virtually zero. Luckily office Christmas party wine will no doubt loosen me up.
Class gets 8/10. It would have got 9 had it not been a ghost class that no longer exists.
Thursday 13 December 2012
On the first Gym of Christmas, Virgin gave to me... A Megafix Workout Workout
As an introduction, I am going to attempt to go to the gym 12 times between now and the 12th of Jan, roughly one month. And I shall blog for everytime I go.
The Thursday 7am Body Conditioning class is the only one I can go to before work, all the rest don't give enough time for me to resume my usual professional look and carry on to work afterwards. Or so I think. Lots of people go to the gym before work, or even during lunch time, and they come back looking as if nothing has changed. I'm still glowing red when I get into the office, I can't usually put a cardigan on because I'm too warm for cardigan and coat (yes, even in this weather), and don't get me started on my hair. How these women do it I have no idea - is there a class I can go to?
So back to the First Gym of Christmas. This is a very odd body conditioning class. The instructor is absolutely lovely and introduced herself by name at the beginning and definitely didn't remember my name, but she's lovely. She's a tad scary looking - a bit like an anorexic, smiley Mystic Meg, but I can let that slide. The class is bizarre though. She uses these CDs she gets once a month which I think are called Megafix Workout Workout CDs... but I could be wrong. They take you through sets of exercises, repeat them and give you some rest time. It's one of those classes thats tough enough to make you feel like you've worked hard, but not hard enough to make you feel like you're dying for the rest of the day.
My main issue is that I have no idea what the exercises are called. Some are okay "Sprint in place" and "Side lunges" are ok... But what the hell are "Burpies" and "Side crabs"? Among other things I mishear so badly that she could be telling me to anally probe the person in front for all I know.
I can't help but thing this method of work out is a bit of a cheat, however knowing there's only going to be a set number of workout sets, and knowing you get a 25 second break every 3.5 minutes is the sort of hope that we pre-work gym troopers must cling on to.
The Thursday 7am Body Conditioning class is the only one I can go to before work, all the rest don't give enough time for me to resume my usual professional look and carry on to work afterwards. Or so I think. Lots of people go to the gym before work, or even during lunch time, and they come back looking as if nothing has changed. I'm still glowing red when I get into the office, I can't usually put a cardigan on because I'm too warm for cardigan and coat (yes, even in this weather), and don't get me started on my hair. How these women do it I have no idea - is there a class I can go to?
So back to the First Gym of Christmas. This is a very odd body conditioning class. The instructor is absolutely lovely and introduced herself by name at the beginning and definitely didn't remember my name, but she's lovely. She's a tad scary looking - a bit like an anorexic, smiley Mystic Meg, but I can let that slide. The class is bizarre though. She uses these CDs she gets once a month which I think are called Megafix Workout Workout CDs... but I could be wrong. They take you through sets of exercises, repeat them and give you some rest time. It's one of those classes thats tough enough to make you feel like you've worked hard, but not hard enough to make you feel like you're dying for the rest of the day.
My main issue is that I have no idea what the exercises are called. Some are okay "Sprint in place" and "Side lunges" are ok... But what the hell are "Burpies" and "Side crabs"? Among other things I mishear so badly that she could be telling me to anally probe the person in front for all I know.
I can't help but thing this method of work out is a bit of a cheat, however knowing there's only going to be a set number of workout sets, and knowing you get a 25 second break every 3.5 minutes is the sort of hope that we pre-work gym troopers must cling on to.
Wednesday 12 December 2012
The Eight Commandments of the Gym Commute
Balancing my work life/gym life has been a bit of a struggle over the last few weeks, but with the festive season upon us, and the ever replenishing fishbowl of chocolates on the reception desk at work, I should probably get back into the habit of it.
One remarkable thing I have noticed about my new life, is the striking similarity between the behaviour of the general public in the gym... and on the commute to London.
1. Thou shalt never be next to others. Unless you thou hast no choice.
On public transport, you must pick the empty seats first. But only the ones in pairs, threes, fours or sixes. You must be alone. No matter how much you yearn for companionship when you're tired and achey, you must be alone.
In the gym, you NEVER run, press, cycle, sit, stretch or pump on a machine next to another human being when there are other machines much further away available.
In both situations, you are desperate to read someone's paper over their shoulder, or see how high their tension is on their bike or how far they've run in the same time as you. But you can't. If you don't know them you must abide by the toilet stall rule - Alternate until you have no choice.
2. Thou shalt never discuss thine common purpose.
This one particularly bugs me. I see hundreds of people every morning on my way to work. I see many people each time I go to the gym at varying times of day. It bugs me that I don't know where they came from or where they're going. Whether they're in a good mood or what their goals are.
What is even worse is that you all have one gigantic thing in common. You are ON A TRAIN. You are IN A GYM. But you can't discuss it. It's as though it's some sort of huge, dark taboo.Sometimes our train comes to a halt. I sit there silently on the C2C Twitter feed, and by this point even the driver doesn't know what's going on, but I am happily up to date. Or if I received a last minute email detailing a class cancellation that no one else has seen, I feel I can't share that information. It is just for me. Alone.
3. When the silence is broken, thou shalt struggle to function socially.
When the barrier of silence is broken. Usually when the gym instructor has worked you really hard, or the water fountain is broken. Or a train is cancelled so it's packed and someone wants you to "move down the train", conversation just fails to flow.
I never have nothing to say, or struggle to come up with a conversation topic. But when confronting a strange at the gym or on the train, I say things that wouldn't even be in the first draft of a thought process, and probably make me sound like I have never spoken to a human being before. Things like "Why is she making us do this?" - "Some people are so moody" - and "Sorry I didn't mean to fondle you" are things that don't generally need to be said, let alone to complete strangers who don't speak.
4. Thou shalt always feel like you're doing it wrong.
Whether it's because you don't use the overhead luggage compartments or bring a towel with you, there is always someone that seems to have the system cracked that little bit better than you. These are the people who don't get sweat in their eyes and don't elbow people in the face when trying to re-robe at their destination. They don't stand up too early, nor do they pick weights that are too heavy for them.
Luckily there's always a busty lady with no sports bra, or a shopping with six bags balanced on their lap to make you feel superior.
5. Thou shalt always be the most important person in the room.
Whether you were there first or not was irrelevant. That is your seat, your ticket barrier, your weights machine or your favourite position in the fitness studio. You are definitely entitled to be annoyed at the woman who has placed herself in front of the ITV4 film on the TV, leaving you stuck in front of Sky Sports. And you can definitely tut at the person who accidentally mis-swipes their Oyster card in front of you. Don't they know who you are? Who cares if you're the one going the wrong way down the stairs? Who cares if that person is also spending over £40 a month to be there? You are there and you wanted to do it.
6. Thou shalt be passive aggressive.
That's right, you subtly move to the left so you can regain your studio territory. You cough loudly until they stop in the middle of their set. You accidentally elbow the person who is practically standing on your foot or not moving down the carriage. Never tell them what's wrong. Don't smile or ask them to move slightly, or when they'll be finished. Use body language that is obviously to yourself and no one else, and be annoyed when your subtly does not yield results.
7. Thou shalt judge those who do not know how to comport themselves.
Much like the lady who will consistently work up a dripping sweat before going to a class that uses shared equipment, there was also a man on my train who not only weirdly snuggled under a strangers armpit, but moved backwards to let someone through, whilst leaving his arm on the pole so the person had to limbo underneath their arm. People do odd things on a daily basis, but in the gym and during the commute, when everyone is silent and you have little to do but observe to distract yourself, so here their behaviour sticks out more. And my judgement of those people also increases. It's irrelevant if I look like panting sweaty mess who elbows people because she didn't stand up before putting her coat on, what other people do is always that little bit more questionable...
8. Thou shalt not accept change.
Do not delay my train. Do not change the times of my favourite gym classes. End of.
One remarkable thing I have noticed about my new life, is the striking similarity between the behaviour of the general public in the gym... and on the commute to London.
1. Thou shalt never be next to others. Unless you thou hast no choice.
On public transport, you must pick the empty seats first. But only the ones in pairs, threes, fours or sixes. You must be alone. No matter how much you yearn for companionship when you're tired and achey, you must be alone.
In the gym, you NEVER run, press, cycle, sit, stretch or pump on a machine next to another human being when there are other machines much further away available.
In both situations, you are desperate to read someone's paper over their shoulder, or see how high their tension is on their bike or how far they've run in the same time as you. But you can't. If you don't know them you must abide by the toilet stall rule - Alternate until you have no choice.
2. Thou shalt never discuss thine common purpose.
This one particularly bugs me. I see hundreds of people every morning on my way to work. I see many people each time I go to the gym at varying times of day. It bugs me that I don't know where they came from or where they're going. Whether they're in a good mood or what their goals are.
What is even worse is that you all have one gigantic thing in common. You are ON A TRAIN. You are IN A GYM. But you can't discuss it. It's as though it's some sort of huge, dark taboo.Sometimes our train comes to a halt. I sit there silently on the C2C Twitter feed, and by this point even the driver doesn't know what's going on, but I am happily up to date. Or if I received a last minute email detailing a class cancellation that no one else has seen, I feel I can't share that information. It is just for me. Alone.
3. When the silence is broken, thou shalt struggle to function socially.
When the barrier of silence is broken. Usually when the gym instructor has worked you really hard, or the water fountain is broken. Or a train is cancelled so it's packed and someone wants you to "move down the train", conversation just fails to flow.
I never have nothing to say, or struggle to come up with a conversation topic. But when confronting a strange at the gym or on the train, I say things that wouldn't even be in the first draft of a thought process, and probably make me sound like I have never spoken to a human being before. Things like "Why is she making us do this?" - "Some people are so moody" - and "Sorry I didn't mean to fondle you" are things that don't generally need to be said, let alone to complete strangers who don't speak.
4. Thou shalt always feel like you're doing it wrong.
Whether it's because you don't use the overhead luggage compartments or bring a towel with you, there is always someone that seems to have the system cracked that little bit better than you. These are the people who don't get sweat in their eyes and don't elbow people in the face when trying to re-robe at their destination. They don't stand up too early, nor do they pick weights that are too heavy for them.
Luckily there's always a busty lady with no sports bra, or a shopping with six bags balanced on their lap to make you feel superior.
5. Thou shalt always be the most important person in the room.
Whether you were there first or not was irrelevant. That is your seat, your ticket barrier, your weights machine or your favourite position in the fitness studio. You are definitely entitled to be annoyed at the woman who has placed herself in front of the ITV4 film on the TV, leaving you stuck in front of Sky Sports. And you can definitely tut at the person who accidentally mis-swipes their Oyster card in front of you. Don't they know who you are? Who cares if you're the one going the wrong way down the stairs? Who cares if that person is also spending over £40 a month to be there? You are there and you wanted to do it.
6. Thou shalt be passive aggressive.
That's right, you subtly move to the left so you can regain your studio territory. You cough loudly until they stop in the middle of their set. You accidentally elbow the person who is practically standing on your foot or not moving down the carriage. Never tell them what's wrong. Don't smile or ask them to move slightly, or when they'll be finished. Use body language that is obviously to yourself and no one else, and be annoyed when your subtly does not yield results.
7. Thou shalt judge those who do not know how to comport themselves.
Much like the lady who will consistently work up a dripping sweat before going to a class that uses shared equipment, there was also a man on my train who not only weirdly snuggled under a strangers armpit, but moved backwards to let someone through, whilst leaving his arm on the pole so the person had to limbo underneath their arm. People do odd things on a daily basis, but in the gym and during the commute, when everyone is silent and you have little to do but observe to distract yourself, so here their behaviour sticks out more. And my judgement of those people also increases. It's irrelevant if I look like panting sweaty mess who elbows people because she didn't stand up before putting her coat on, what other people do is always that little bit more questionable...
8. Thou shalt not accept change.
Do not delay my train. Do not change the times of my favourite gym classes. End of.
Sunday 21 October 2012
Scottish people are mean
Since beginning work I haven't managed to time it well enough to get to many classes, but I'm slowly losing my enthusiasm and my attention span is lacking, so this weekend I thought I'd try some more classes. Saturday brought Body Conditioning again, but this time with Lee Burnett.
I was a little anxious, considering the other class I had taken led by a man had been more like a PE lesson and nothing like the session advertised. In fact I had actually avoided the 10am Saturday sesh just for this reason, I suspected I wouldn't enjoy the class as much as when it is run by a female (particularly a sparky blonde.). But on this day I decided to put my prejudice aside, and try out the class.
You can only imagine my surprise when it turned out that Lee Burnett is a woman. Whatsmore, she then opened her mouth... and she was... Scottish...
But as I said, prejudices aside.
So we began the class. It was definitely one of the better classes, it was repetitive but not to the boring lengths that made it boring. However it was painful. Very painful. And there is something both compelling and soothing about a Scottish accent. One minute she was nice as pie, the next minute I felt like I was in the military. At one point, during a lunge she moved my back leg further back from my (like I wasn't vulnerable enough) and soothingly said "That's better isn't it?" I felt I had to agree but I think in Scotland "better" means "worse".
She kept telling everyone how small and weedy our tricep muscles were. I would have been offended, but it's undeniable. She made us press up, plank, and everything else also involved being on our arms, to the point I welcome the 50 stomach crunches (that was more like 70 because she "lost count").
I hobbled away, shaking, weak, and the only thought I could muster: Scottish people are mean.
Sunday 7 October 2012
Losing your V cycle Plates
Please play this video while you read for um-beyonce.
You sit there, nervous and inexperienced, wondering what the next hour will bring. Then he comes in, the lights go off and you hold your breath until it begins. A haze of sweat and music and pain, each position brings relief for a few seconds until it just hurts again. You focus on a spot on a wall, fighting the cramp in your foot and just pray it'll be over soon. Later, you stand in the shower, aching, bruised, feeling like you'll never walk again, battling in your mind with conflicting feelings of regret and satisfaction.
They say its like riding a bike. It isn't.
I think the only way I managed to get through the 45 minute "V Cycle" class was by making comparisons to the classic concepts of virginity loss. The only part I lied about was when I said "he", the instructor was actually female but I changed it for effect #artisticlicense #itsmyblogandicandowhatiwant
This class is hard. Not only that but it wasn't really what I expected. I was quite happy cycling in rhythm with everything, then I realised some people just show off and cycle like mentalists with no regard to the beat of the music. The fact the room is dark apart from green lazers is also very off putting. I came to the gym, not a party. In fact when I walked in the room, before the lights were completely out, it felt like when you're the first ones in a club, the talking is louder than the music and everyone is standing in small groups with the odd super drunk person already dancing (or super fit person already cycling in this case).
There is also a lot of room for cheating, you're supposed to "touch up" and "touch down" the tension of the bike... "TOUCH UP A FULL 360 DEGREES"... *Jeffery subtly notches it up about 4*... boom... EASY. In fairness, it became apparent after the first two minutes I had no chance of keeping up with everyone else. She also kept shouting things that sounded like techniques for pedalling but I'm not sure there is more than one way to pedal a bike.
The best part of the session was the final song, literally nothing made me happier than the sudden appearance of a remix of this wonderful Indie power ballad by The Calling, which rounded off my Virginity/V Cycle metaphor perfectly. However my sex mataphor was slightly tainted by the fact she shouted things like "ATTACK"... "UP FOR 8" and constantly told you how long was left. That would be somewhat of a mood killer.
They say its like riding a bike. But the only thing that is like riding a bike, is riding a bike.
Overall, this class gives too much opportunity to slack which isn't good. I did sweat a lot, but I didn't particularly enjoy it and I don't think a class that only works one part of my body is particularly helpful. I also am pissed that no one can keep rhythm - you'll never make it in show business.
6/10.
Saturday 29 September 2012
My soundtrack to your gym
I have found that listening to my own music helps infinitely with my motivation. And these are the things that help the most:
1. Britney Spears - Stronger
Partly because it reminds me of my housemate, Ronald, but also because it is genuinely motivating. Yes, I am stronger than yesterday, it is nothing but my way and loneliness will never kill me again mofos! I arm cycled for ten minutes straight with this one on repeat.
2. Hadouken - Dance Lesson
In fact, most things by Hadouken. But it's just got just the right level of beat and loud to make you feel the urge to keep time.
3. Jason Mraz - I'm Yours
Ooh... Curve Ball. This one is good for weights, he has a nice, tender, tone that makes you relax and forget the fact your muscles feel like they're about to explode out of your skin.
4. Anything from the 90s
Five, Back Street boys, N Sync and Steps work particularly well. I think it's because the 90s is when music was good andwasn't was mostly not about sex, and never about "whistle blowing". Plus they always sound cheerful, and who doesn't need to be cheerful in the gym.
5. Hans Zimmer - Pirates of the Caribbean
The ultimate. There is no music better than this. Even in daily life when this comes on my mp3 player I feel EPIC. It makes even the smallest of achievements seem incredible, from getting milk out the fridge to cycling 6 km.
Things that do not help:
1. Anything from a musical
Yes, they do possess many of the above qualities, but resisting the urge to sing not only is very distracting, but when you forget it is particularly embarrassing.
2. Joss Stone
Quite frankly, she doesn't help anything; but especially not gym motivation.
3. The Killers - Mr Brightside
I love this song as much as the next 20-24 year old at the end of a night out. But that, unfortunately, is where that song belongs, and has no place in the gym.
1. Britney Spears - Stronger
Partly because it reminds me of my housemate, Ronald, but also because it is genuinely motivating. Yes, I am stronger than yesterday, it is nothing but my way and loneliness will never kill me again mofos! I arm cycled for ten minutes straight with this one on repeat.
2. Hadouken - Dance Lesson
In fact, most things by Hadouken. But it's just got just the right level of beat and loud to make you feel the urge to keep time.
3. Jason Mraz - I'm Yours
Ooh... Curve Ball. This one is good for weights, he has a nice, tender, tone that makes you relax and forget the fact your muscles feel like they're about to explode out of your skin.
4. Anything from the 90s
Five, Back Street boys, N Sync and Steps work particularly well. I think it's because the 90s is when music was good and
5. Hans Zimmer - Pirates of the Caribbean
The ultimate. There is no music better than this. Even in daily life when this comes on my mp3 player I feel EPIC. It makes even the smallest of achievements seem incredible, from getting milk out the fridge to cycling 6 km.
Things that do not help:
1. Anything from a musical
Yes, they do possess many of the above qualities, but resisting the urge to sing not only is very distracting, but when you forget it is particularly embarrassing.
2. Joss Stone
Quite frankly, she doesn't help anything; but especially not gym motivation.
3. The Killers - Mr Brightside
I love this song as much as the next 20-24 year old at the end of a night out. But that, unfortunately, is where that song belongs, and has no place in the gym.
Sunday 16 September 2012
Things that the gym has taught me about my body
Disclaimer: Things I already knew about my body that the gym has confirmed include: unable to do the splits, generally lacks in coordination, sweats on levels that no woman should, and cannot physically support self using arms. I am not in denial about these things, I just knew them prior to gym-going.
1. My eyebrows are beyond useless.
The main function of an eyebrow, other than balancing out your forehead aesthetically, is to stop things, such as sweat, rolling into your eyes. Mine don't. To be honest I think they have given up trying. As I have admitted above, I do sweat more than your average female, however you'd think I would have sturdier eyebrows to balance it out. I don't. I don't even pluck them that often. So after about 5 minutes on a treadmill I can feel the cascade coming; like Niagara Falls or a Tsunami. Then it's in my eyes and they sting for the remainder of the gym trip. I need some sort of eye hat.
2. My arms get bored easily.
I can run forhours minutes, cycle for miles kilometres and I can shift 40, 10, 20kg with my thighs (on a good day), but as soon as I try and do anything remotely related to my arms, I just cannot keep going. Two minutes on the arm bike is about my limit, as is about 5 or 6 reps on a 2.5kg weight machine. I use the excuse that it's my shoulder that hurts, but anyone who really pays attention to me knows that weight and exercise make little-to-no difference to it, I don't know what it is. My arms are lazy, I have no control over them.
3. Treadmill after a hot dinner makes me windy.
I'm sorry. In my defence I had my headphones so I didn't hear it, so really; it's like it never happened.
4. Exercise makes me feel awake
Strange isn't it? Going early in the am makes me perky all day, and going at night, even after a long day's work afterwards I feel... happy... and energetic... and accomplished. Definitely witchcraft. They do it so that you keep wanting to go back.
5. My eyes are bigger than my gym shoes.
I am stubborn and I'll tell you its fine. But it's not. I'll lose the ability to walk and I shouldn't do it. I wasn't built for lots of exercise, I was built for enough exercise for now. But from time to time, I will try and over do it. Perhaps that's less of a risk now I'm employed, but it could potentially still happen.
1. My eyebrows are beyond useless.
The main function of an eyebrow, other than balancing out your forehead aesthetically, is to stop things, such as sweat, rolling into your eyes. Mine don't. To be honest I think they have given up trying. As I have admitted above, I do sweat more than your average female, however you'd think I would have sturdier eyebrows to balance it out. I don't. I don't even pluck them that often. So after about 5 minutes on a treadmill I can feel the cascade coming; like Niagara Falls or a Tsunami. Then it's in my eyes and they sting for the remainder of the gym trip. I need some sort of eye hat.
2. My arms get bored easily.
I can run for
3. Treadmill after a hot dinner makes me windy.
I'm sorry. In my defence I had my headphones so I didn't hear it, so really; it's like it never happened.
4. Exercise makes me feel awake
Strange isn't it? Going early in the am makes me perky all day, and going at night, even after a long day's work afterwards I feel... happy... and energetic... and accomplished. Definitely witchcraft. They do it so that you keep wanting to go back.
5. My eyes are bigger than my gym shoes.
I am stubborn and I'll tell you its fine. But it's not. I'll lose the ability to walk and I shouldn't do it. I wasn't built for lots of exercise, I was built for enough exercise for now. But from time to time, I will try and over do it. Perhaps that's less of a risk now I'm employed, but it could potentially still happen.
Friday 7 September 2012
Today my leggings split at the gym
In the crotch.
And I didn't have any spare clothes.
And my tshirt wasn't long enough.
And I didn't have my car.
#CrotchlessInTheWoods
And I didn't have any spare clothes.
And my tshirt wasn't long enough.
And I didn't have my car.
#CrotchlessInTheWoods
Sunday 2 September 2012
Gender difference in the slow lane
Over my brief career as a keen doggy paddler, I have made some observations about swimming that constantly remind me of motorway driving.
When driving my car (my beautiful, bright green Mazda 2), I actually get treated quite well on the roads, especially compared to when I drive my mum's old Yaris, or even my old Micra (oh, Robbie, I do miss you). But, of course, with every road comes an arsehole, and the longer the road, the more plentiful the arseholery. In my experience, the arseholes and usually men, and more often than that, they drive BMWs or Audis.
I try to be as considerate as possible when I drive, particularly on motorways. I don't drive up people's butts and flash my lights, I move out the way when possible and I never undertake. I always assume the worst, assume the person in front is a new driver, has a baby on board or perhaps is overtired or having a bad day. When you don't know the other person, you should be as considerate as possible because, I don't know about you, but I like to avoid making other peoples' days worse.
Now, I am a confident driver, but when people get up my backside it intimidates me and I worry I'll end up crushed into a pulp. It makes me nervous and I probably concentrate more on what might happen behind me than what is happening in front of me, which obviously isn't safe.
So now I've painted the picture, let's get back to my point.
I get this exact same feeling when I am swimming. I am not good at swimming. Before about 6 months ago, I was terrified of swimming. I hadn't swum since I was about 12 and the idea of taking my glasses off and wandering off somewhere was terrifying. However, I conquered my fear and found I actually really enjoy swimming. I don't think I'll ever been good at it, but I like it and it's good for my shoulder. I always go in the slow lane, because the speeds are relative and I will always be slower than everyone else there. Except one time at Runnymede when I was faster than the other woman in the pool, so I considerately moved to the medium lane. That was a good day.
So why do others not pay the say courtesy? You don't know how long I've been swimming, if I'm injured or tired. I'm in the slow lane because I am swimming slowly and I don't appreciate people swimming up my arse or, worse still, OVERTAKING ME. Seriously, it does nothing for my already battered swimming confidence. There is no speed limit in this lane, if you think you are slow, but can swim faster than those in the slow lane, you need to move into the medium lane. There's no "Slower" lane. If there was, none of this would be a problem.
Today it was actually a woman that did it to me, but every other time it has been a man. Every time.
Now, this isn't a feminist rant. I'm not saying that man, with his phallic-shaped, half-naked body is jumping into and penetrating a metaphorical big wet yonic vagina pool and defeminising me, using his superior swimming technique to demean myself and therefore all womankind (although that would make one heck of an essay). I just think it shows a basic difference between the mentality of lots of men and lots of women. And that is just a general awareness of what is happening around you, and how your actions affect others.
Like I said, today it was a woman intimidating me and swimming up my arse. But as I rested at the shallow end of the pool (if you know Virgin's pool you will be thinking "wow how mysterious is this?!" as both ends of the pool are actually shallow ends. Shall I reveal which end I was at? NO! Ooooh, ambiguity), a man jumped into the lane next to me and splashed me. I wasn't moving, it was clear I was there, and I ended up with chlorine in my eyes.
I don't think the man did it to spite me, or to show how big and tough he was, I just genuinely think he didn't think. It wasn't "Oh jumping with cause a splash that might get in that lady's eyes, which isn't really very fair", it was "Time to swim, get in the pool, JUMP!"
So perhaps really, overtaking in swimming lanes, and possibly on motorways isn't a big macho act of masculinity, but is just simply a lack of consideration that men seem to possess more than women, in my experience.
It's amazing where your mind goes sometimes. Thinking about this distracted me and I actually swam 30 lengths in 30 minutes, which is a new personal best for me. Maybe there's hope for a permanent place in the medium lane yet!
Swimming gets 8/10 today.
When driving my car (my beautiful, bright green Mazda 2), I actually get treated quite well on the roads, especially compared to when I drive my mum's old Yaris, or even my old Micra (oh, Robbie, I do miss you). But, of course, with every road comes an arsehole, and the longer the road, the more plentiful the arseholery. In my experience, the arseholes and usually men, and more often than that, they drive BMWs or Audis.
I try to be as considerate as possible when I drive, particularly on motorways. I don't drive up people's butts and flash my lights, I move out the way when possible and I never undertake. I always assume the worst, assume the person in front is a new driver, has a baby on board or perhaps is overtired or having a bad day. When you don't know the other person, you should be as considerate as possible because, I don't know about you, but I like to avoid making other peoples' days worse.
Now, I am a confident driver, but when people get up my backside it intimidates me and I worry I'll end up crushed into a pulp. It makes me nervous and I probably concentrate more on what might happen behind me than what is happening in front of me, which obviously isn't safe.
So now I've painted the picture, let's get back to my point.
I get this exact same feeling when I am swimming. I am not good at swimming. Before about 6 months ago, I was terrified of swimming. I hadn't swum since I was about 12 and the idea of taking my glasses off and wandering off somewhere was terrifying. However, I conquered my fear and found I actually really enjoy swimming. I don't think I'll ever been good at it, but I like it and it's good for my shoulder. I always go in the slow lane, because the speeds are relative and I will always be slower than everyone else there. Except one time at Runnymede when I was faster than the other woman in the pool, so I considerately moved to the medium lane. That was a good day.
So why do others not pay the say courtesy? You don't know how long I've been swimming, if I'm injured or tired. I'm in the slow lane because I am swimming slowly and I don't appreciate people swimming up my arse or, worse still, OVERTAKING ME. Seriously, it does nothing for my already battered swimming confidence. There is no speed limit in this lane, if you think you are slow, but can swim faster than those in the slow lane, you need to move into the medium lane. There's no "Slower" lane. If there was, none of this would be a problem.
Today it was actually a woman that did it to me, but every other time it has been a man. Every time.
Now, this isn't a feminist rant. I'm not saying that man, with his phallic-shaped, half-naked body is jumping into and penetrating a metaphorical big wet yonic vagina pool and defeminising me, using his superior swimming technique to demean myself and therefore all womankind (although that would make one heck of an essay). I just think it shows a basic difference between the mentality of lots of men and lots of women. And that is just a general awareness of what is happening around you, and how your actions affect others.
Like I said, today it was a woman intimidating me and swimming up my arse. But as I rested at the shallow end of the pool (if you know Virgin's pool you will be thinking "wow how mysterious is this?!" as both ends of the pool are actually shallow ends. Shall I reveal which end I was at? NO! Ooooh, ambiguity), a man jumped into the lane next to me and splashed me. I wasn't moving, it was clear I was there, and I ended up with chlorine in my eyes.
I don't think the man did it to spite me, or to show how big and tough he was, I just genuinely think he didn't think. It wasn't "Oh jumping with cause a splash that might get in that lady's eyes, which isn't really very fair", it was "Time to swim, get in the pool, JUMP!"
So perhaps really, overtaking in swimming lanes, and possibly on motorways isn't a big macho act of masculinity, but is just simply a lack of consideration that men seem to possess more than women, in my experience.
It's amazing where your mind goes sometimes. Thinking about this distracted me and I actually swam 30 lengths in 30 minutes, which is a new personal best for me. Maybe there's hope for a permanent place in the medium lane yet!
Swimming gets 8/10 today.
Tuesday 21 August 2012
10 things nobody wants to hear at the gym
10. "Good luck!"
At any time, any location or however many times you have been to the gym. The thought of needing some sort of supernatural aid to help you through whatever is coming next is quite frankly, terrifying.
9. "Ouch, that hurt, didn't it?"
From your instructor. I'm a firm believer in the fact they shouldn't be making us do things they find hard. Although it is reassuring when these super human specimens break a sweat.
8. "I'm just going to turn down the lights."
No, please don't. Bad things happen when the lights are out. I didn't even have a traumatic childhood, I've just been to these classes before.
7. "Only X more!"
Whatever that number, by this point it is never EVER "only" that amount more. Knowing what is coming is the worst feeling when doing exercise. Genuinely, I'd rather not know.
6. "*General sexual noises*"
Particularly when stretching. I'm not sure why people do it, but I'm always nearer farting than anything else by that point.
5. "How often do you pick up a 30 kilo burger to your face?"
There is just no answer to this. Plus it makes you laugh which puts your tush and pubic bone all outta line. And nobody wants that.
4. "Go and get the barbells." or "And now get into the plank position."
No thank you.
3. "We need an extra half an hour really."
We seriously don't. I know it might make me look like you, which would be wonderful. I just wasn't born that way and I don't care that much.
2. "That's the exercise that stops your bottom from falling through and down your legs."
In all honesty, I'm glad that I'm working on it, but when I'm in a vulnerable tortoise-on-its-back position, I do not want to be reminded that the body allows itself to do that sometimes.
1. "Watch out for what's coming behind you!"
When arse-up and sweating out of your eyeballs, this is the last thing anyone wants to hear.
At any time, any location or however many times you have been to the gym. The thought of needing some sort of supernatural aid to help you through whatever is coming next is quite frankly, terrifying.
9. "Ouch, that hurt, didn't it?"
From your instructor. I'm a firm believer in the fact they shouldn't be making us do things they find hard. Although it is reassuring when these super human specimens break a sweat.
8. "I'm just going to turn down the lights."
No, please don't. Bad things happen when the lights are out. I didn't even have a traumatic childhood, I've just been to these classes before.
7. "Only X more!"
Whatever that number, by this point it is never EVER "only" that amount more. Knowing what is coming is the worst feeling when doing exercise. Genuinely, I'd rather not know.
6. "*General sexual noises*"
Particularly when stretching. I'm not sure why people do it, but I'm always nearer farting than anything else by that point.
5. "How often do you pick up a 30 kilo burger to your face?"
There is just no answer to this. Plus it makes you laugh which puts your tush and pubic bone all outta line. And nobody wants that.
4. "Go and get the barbells." or "And now get into the plank position."
No thank you.
3. "We need an extra half an hour really."
We seriously don't. I know it might make me look like you, which would be wonderful. I just wasn't born that way and I don't care that much.
2. "That's the exercise that stops your bottom from falling through and down your legs."
In all honesty, I'm glad that I'm working on it, but when I'm in a vulnerable tortoise-on-its-back position, I do not want to be reminded that the body allows itself to do that sometimes.
1. "Watch out for what's coming behind you!"
When arse-up and sweating out of your eyeballs, this is the last thing anyone wants to hear.
Friday 17 August 2012
Viva el cuerpo
Wednesday 15th August - Body Vive
So, Lorraine and I were a little sceptical about this class, considering the misleading nature of some of the previous 'Body' themed classes, but this class did not disappoint.
The instructor was very nice, she noticed how terrified we looked and came to welcome us personally and tell us what equipment we need (little did she know we're old hacks at the "wait til everyone else goes in and copy what they do" thing). She was a hilarious instructor. Overweight, by her own admission, sweating like a pig, failing to count and singing along horrendously. Luckily she was adorable so none of that mattered.
The class itself was great. It was nowhere near as difficult as some of the others, kind of repetitive at times but did a good mix of cardio and muscle building exercises. Plus you never did so much on one part of your body that it felt like it would fall off.
I'll give this work out an 8/10. A good mid weeker for when you're tired from work. WHICH I WILL BE STARTING NEXT WEDNESDAY. Cannot wait.
Friday 17th August - Body Conditioning
It was in the smaller studio this time, which means the weight selection is different. All I can say for this is: GOD BLESS 1.5KG WEIGHTS! I could actually do all the exercises without dying. And yes I should be pushing myself but at least I could do everything... I'll work myself up I pwomise.
What a let down. My conclusion is that the blonde gym instructors are better. But the overweight Body Vive instructor was a brunette and the Pilates man was bald, so it's not particularly scientific.
The work out itself was good, but it was so boring. Every single move, on the step, with weights, laying down, abs, arms, legs, backs was "single, single, single, single, - pulse for three, pulse for three pulse for three" then "Seven Seven" which I think was called that because it felt like a terrorist attack on your muscles. But the woman had no bounce, no excitement. I didn't feel compelled to push myself and kept opting for the easier moves, whereas the Barbie lady two weeks ago was really lively and encouraging.
Unfortunately Virgin don't give accurate instructor lists on their timetables so you can't figure out the crap ones and avoid their classes :(
I did get my sweat on though and it was a good range of exercise. No grapevine, so, sorry Jennifer*, you get a 6/10.
(*Her name wasn't Jennifer)
So, Lorraine and I were a little sceptical about this class, considering the misleading nature of some of the previous 'Body' themed classes, but this class did not disappoint.
The instructor was very nice, she noticed how terrified we looked and came to welcome us personally and tell us what equipment we need (little did she know we're old hacks at the "wait til everyone else goes in and copy what they do" thing). She was a hilarious instructor. Overweight, by her own admission, sweating like a pig, failing to count and singing along horrendously. Luckily she was adorable so none of that mattered.
The class itself was great. It was nowhere near as difficult as some of the others, kind of repetitive at times but did a good mix of cardio and muscle building exercises. Plus you never did so much on one part of your body that it felt like it would fall off.
I'll give this work out an 8/10. A good mid weeker for when you're tired from work. WHICH I WILL BE STARTING NEXT WEDNESDAY. Cannot wait.
Friday 17th August - Body Conditioning
It was in the smaller studio this time, which means the weight selection is different. All I can say for this is: GOD BLESS 1.5KG WEIGHTS! I could actually do all the exercises without dying. And yes I should be pushing myself but at least I could do everything... I'll work myself up I pwomise.
What a let down. My conclusion is that the blonde gym instructors are better. But the overweight Body Vive instructor was a brunette and the Pilates man was bald, so it's not particularly scientific.
The work out itself was good, but it was so boring. Every single move, on the step, with weights, laying down, abs, arms, legs, backs was "single, single, single, single, - pulse for three, pulse for three pulse for three" then "Seven Seven" which I think was called that because it felt like a terrorist attack on your muscles. But the woman had no bounce, no excitement. I didn't feel compelled to push myself and kept opting for the easier moves, whereas the Barbie lady two weeks ago was really lively and encouraging.
Unfortunately Virgin don't give accurate instructor lists on their timetables so you can't figure out the crap ones and avoid their classes :(
I did get my sweat on though and it was a good range of exercise. No grapevine, so, sorry Jennifer*, you get a 6/10.
(*Her name wasn't Jennifer)
Tuesday 14 August 2012
How Pilates changed my life: My story.
I have been slightly less hardcore on the gym over the weekend. Mostly because on Friday I lost the ability to walk. When I tried to swim on Saturday my pace was at least halved and I was barely keeping above water.
I made two mistakes today before entering the gym for Pilates today.
1. Not washing Chinnerys* off my feet.
2. Not wearing trainer socks.
*Chinnerys is Essex for Jesters
To celebrate my new lease of lower limb usage, I decided to walk to the gym. Surprisingly, this was not one of the mistakes I made today, although it lead to blisters which were caused by mistake number 2.
I have heard wonderful things about Pilates, but my knowledge spans as much as "It's kind of like yoga". I also don't know what Yoga is really.
Most people, my adoring boyfriend included, would tell you I'm about as balanced and stable as Norman Bates.
I would like to take a second to laugh in the faces of these Doubting Thomases (Thomaii?) and say
HA
I'm actually not that unbalanced.
The class was great. The other ladies looked as terrified as me and were really friendly. One lady had recently lost her mum and evidently hadn't been to the gym for a while, and four others gave her a hug and wished her well. How lovely. They weren't even her friends, as such, they just noticed she hadn't been to the gym for a while.
The gym instructor was lush. He was bald and camp and adorable. He explained everything really well and came round to push everyone's tushes and left their pelvises to make sure everyone got the most out of he exercises.
You basically have to take your shoes off (mistake number 1) and do stretches and bends and things using one of those big exercise balls. It was pretty cool to see how to use them properly, I definitely wouldn't have if I'd tried myself!
There were only a couple of exercises I really struggled with but the rest were okay (and only mildly painful). I think it'll be a good one to continue with because I can see it would have long term benefits. However the camp, bald instructor is leaving so I'm sure it could never be the same without him...
I felt so soft and springy and bouncy afterwards that I chose to walk home through the woods. I didn't even slightly get lost or chased by axe murderers. BOOM.
8/10. Will return.
Thursday 9 August 2012
Pump'n'tone'n'ache'n'ouch
Wednesday 8th August - Body Pump
The description of this class on the booking page is "Simple, safe and effective! Resistance training exercises taken from the gym to the studio and set to powerful music." Looking back at it now it all makes sense, but being a gym noob and only breezing through the descriptions, it is understandable that both Lorraine and I were expecting your average aerobics type class.
I stood at 9.20 on this unhappy morning looking into the class, mouth gaping. When Lorraine entered the gym I walked towards her with a look of fear on my face she tells me has kept her sniggering to herself for the rest of Wednesday. The class being set out ahead of me was the class that Lorraine, Collette and I had seen finishing off before Body Combat on Monday. Weights - with bars - steps, mats and God knows what else. We all agreed this class looked horrific.
Lorraine and I entered, assuming that the empty equipment was not occupied and had been put there by the gym instructor. Only to be told by some, quite frankly butch, middle aged women that we had to set up our own equipment. We started to gather what we needed and realised there was no space in the room for us to set up. Bloody people sneaking into the class when they're only on the waiting list. Tsk tsk tsk. We look one look at each other and our minds converged. "Shall we run away?" I offered. So out of the studio we scrambled and onto the gym floor.
Not wanting to waste our time and abundance of energy (!) we spent 10 minutes on the sit down bikes, 10 minutes on the hand bikes and 10 minutes on some exceedingly bouncy cross trainers that made you feel like you were running through a meadow.
We then followed up with some arm, leg and ab weight training. It was pretty good doing it in twos because you'd get into a good habit of swapping machine so your workout was a little more well rounded. All went pretty smoothly until I decided to stretch out my legs, effectively blocking in and mooning the poor old man who had just finished on the machine behind me and was too polite to ask me to move. It had to happen at some point.
A few glances back into the studio room we do not regret our decision to run away from Body Pump. Nor will we be returning to it at any point in the future.
Workout gets 10/10 purely because it was not Body Pump.
Thursday 9th August - CORE'N'TONE
This was a MAN class. Only women attended, but it was definitely a MAN class. "An innovative workout that helps build strength from the inside. Each session focuses on technique, with intensive training for abdominal and lower back muscles. Improving balance and posture". This entry will go into how CORE N TONE is none of these things.
At the beginning of this class the women stood nervously around the edge. Which is strange for a gym class because normally as soon as you enter the doors you know exactly what you're doing. Maybe it's something you get in the 25+ membership because I'm still lost as anything.
We began with a MAN warm up. No aerobics, grapevine etc. Full on P.E. warm up. Jogging in a circle followed by windmill arms and not a lot else. I will also point out that the instructor only joined in for the windmill arms and was laughing at people who couldn't do the arms-in-opposite-direction thing. I was laughing because he was doing it wrong and didn't even notice. Idiot.
Then we divided into groups and have to get equipment. We had to get the weights with the bars. Shit. It became apparently this is not an ab and back class, which it would have been had it been run by a woman. But nope, it's just circuits. MAN gym class. So we have to do the exercises which are badly spaced out (all the arm ones are together with no break. Silly.)
I should also mention at this point a lady who I will name Sweaty McGee.
Dear Ms. McGee: Nobody, I repeat, NOBODY wants you to go on a step machine until you are DRIPPING with sweat ad then attend a class in which equipment is used and shared. Sincerely, The World.
She was in the group just ahead of me, which meant our group had to avoid using her equipment. It wasn't hard to figure out - it was the one with sweat dripping all over it. In the second half we had to sit against the mirrors and dear LORD did she leave her mark. Vom.
So the class was pretty hard work. But nearly all the stations focused on arms and legs. Which (of course I'm not a gym instructor) are different to your abs and lower back. Everything was covered quickly so there was no focus on technique and doing two minutes on each exercise isn't my definition of "intensive". To top it off our MAN instructor didn't join in, wasn't particularly helpful or motivating. The music was too quiet and too slow.
3/10. I won't be returning.
The description of this class on the booking page is "Simple, safe and effective! Resistance training exercises taken from the gym to the studio and set to powerful music." Looking back at it now it all makes sense, but being a gym noob and only breezing through the descriptions, it is understandable that both Lorraine and I were expecting your average aerobics type class.
I stood at 9.20 on this unhappy morning looking into the class, mouth gaping. When Lorraine entered the gym I walked towards her with a look of fear on my face she tells me has kept her sniggering to herself for the rest of Wednesday. The class being set out ahead of me was the class that Lorraine, Collette and I had seen finishing off before Body Combat on Monday. Weights - with bars - steps, mats and God knows what else. We all agreed this class looked horrific.
Lorraine and I entered, assuming that the empty equipment was not occupied and had been put there by the gym instructor. Only to be told by some, quite frankly butch, middle aged women that we had to set up our own equipment. We started to gather what we needed and realised there was no space in the room for us to set up. Bloody people sneaking into the class when they're only on the waiting list. Tsk tsk tsk. We look one look at each other and our minds converged. "Shall we run away?" I offered. So out of the studio we scrambled and onto the gym floor.
Not wanting to waste our time and abundance of energy (!) we spent 10 minutes on the sit down bikes, 10 minutes on the hand bikes and 10 minutes on some exceedingly bouncy cross trainers that made you feel like you were running through a meadow.
We then followed up with some arm, leg and ab weight training. It was pretty good doing it in twos because you'd get into a good habit of swapping machine so your workout was a little more well rounded. All went pretty smoothly until I decided to stretch out my legs, effectively blocking in and mooning the poor old man who had just finished on the machine behind me and was too polite to ask me to move. It had to happen at some point.
A few glances back into the studio room we do not regret our decision to run away from Body Pump. Nor will we be returning to it at any point in the future.
Workout gets 10/10 purely because it was not Body Pump.
Thursday 9th August - CORE'N'TONE
This was a MAN class. Only women attended, but it was definitely a MAN class. "An innovative workout that helps build strength from the inside. Each session focuses on technique, with intensive training for abdominal and lower back muscles. Improving balance and posture". This entry will go into how CORE N TONE is none of these things.
At the beginning of this class the women stood nervously around the edge. Which is strange for a gym class because normally as soon as you enter the doors you know exactly what you're doing. Maybe it's something you get in the 25+ membership because I'm still lost as anything.
We began with a MAN warm up. No aerobics, grapevine etc. Full on P.E. warm up. Jogging in a circle followed by windmill arms and not a lot else. I will also point out that the instructor only joined in for the windmill arms and was laughing at people who couldn't do the arms-in-opposite-direction thing. I was laughing because he was doing it wrong and didn't even notice. Idiot.
Then we divided into groups and have to get equipment. We had to get the weights with the bars. Shit. It became apparently this is not an ab and back class, which it would have been had it been run by a woman. But nope, it's just circuits. MAN gym class. So we have to do the exercises which are badly spaced out (all the arm ones are together with no break. Silly.)
I should also mention at this point a lady who I will name Sweaty McGee.
Dear Ms. McGee: Nobody, I repeat, NOBODY wants you to go on a step machine until you are DRIPPING with sweat ad then attend a class in which equipment is used and shared. Sincerely, The World.
She was in the group just ahead of me, which meant our group had to avoid using her equipment. It wasn't hard to figure out - it was the one with sweat dripping all over it. In the second half we had to sit against the mirrors and dear LORD did she leave her mark. Vom.
So the class was pretty hard work. But nearly all the stations focused on arms and legs. Which (of course I'm not a gym instructor) are different to your abs and lower back. Everything was covered quickly so there was no focus on technique and doing two minutes on each exercise isn't my definition of "intensive". To top it off our MAN instructor didn't join in, wasn't particularly helpful or motivating. The music was too quiet and too slow.
3/10. I won't be returning.
Tuesday 7 August 2012
Body condition: Pensioner
Tuesday 7th August - Body Conditioning
What. A. Class.
Admittedly, taking this class 23 hours after walking staggering out of Body Combat yesterday was a massive error, but I still gave it a shot. A sweaty, muscle-weary shot.
The first 25 minutes was a nice body pumping aerobic exercise. The third move of which was...
Wait for it.
GRAPEVINE!!
Collette and I exchanged a knowing smile at this point, it was going to be a good day. Having jumped about and squatted for nearly half an hour we moved onto hip breaking leg exercises with optional weights. I did try with them to begin with but I opted not to make life harder for myself. The exercise itself wasn't too challenging. Lifting your leg sideways, a few pulses and one leg squats. But when you're about as flexible as an arthritic woolly mammoth, this is definitely far from simple. The lovely instructor (which ginormous bazoombas) assured us you have to overload a muscle to make it work, so maybe the fact I could practically feel my hip bones grinding together is a good thing. After this we moved onto weight exercises, which were fine until we had to drop the weights back behind our arms. I struggled so much she actually asked me if I was okay. That's when you know you need to drop back to the tiny yellow ones.
The last stage of the class was ab exercises. I could barely support my own weight on my elbows and knees at this point but I sort of powered through.
The warm down was nice and chilled. Until she told us to get into a "froggy position", pulse our arses back and proceeded to make sex noises. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Then the words "This is a little 50 shades of Grey", "All we need is a clamp" and "Watch out for what's coming behind you" came out of her mouth. I think one day I will make a list of top ten things you don't want to hear at the gym. Guess what will be awarded gold, silver and bronze. Close in fourth is "We need an extra half an hour really..."
Right now, typing on my laptop and holding a cup of tea is all I can manage. I might need to be spoon fed and carried for the rest of the week.
This class gets 10/10. Varied workout and GRAPEVINE give a winning combination.
Monday 6 August 2012
Body Combattered
Monday 6th August - Body Combat
My eyes are sweating after this one. I am still in the testing phase of gym going, so I am trying to give everything and equal chance and not pay too much attention to the description. I will now point out that this is not a class "suitable for all levels of fitness". It is not one to be reckoned with.
Luckily I had Collette and Lorraine with me to offer some sort of solidarity in the studio. They were there illegally. Blatantly disregarding the queue system and therefore undermining the integrity of the gym, if you ask me. Shocking. But it was nice to think that if I passed out there would be someone I know to tell my mum I loved her.
It never bodes well when the sprightly, bleach blonde instructor wishes the newbies luck before the class begins. She did however assure us that all the moves would be in the warm up, which was mostly not a lie. It became clear very soon that this was going to be a difficult class. Lots of punches and kicks, and hopping from one foot to the other. The move that threw me the most was when she told us to skip, we involved us imaginging had skipping ropes. I genuinely could not tell you what my legs are supposed to do when I skip. All I know is when then is no rope to jump over; flailing is the only option.
She kindly took us through arms and legs separately so the other could recover. I know I said previously that I don't suffer from bingo wings, but punching imaginary hitmen repeatedly quite honest made my entire arm ripple, so now I'm not entirely sure if that is supposed to happen or whether I do, in fact, have fat upper arms. Maybe we will never know.
Things got immense when she whacked out the Pirates of the Caribbean remix. I swear every exercise on the planet should involve that piece of music. Hans Zimmer I salute you. We did some awesome sword fight moves followed by stuff I didn't really care about because the sword fight was taking up too much of my brain capacity.
After this she announced we only had two songs left (only?! seriously I thought I was going to pass out about 20 minutes ago). At this point she dimmed the light and whacked out O Fortuna. But we did not surf.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rbZr7YoqK0
My life flashed before my eyes about five times during this routine. Broken up slightly by repeatedly punching an imaginary figure on the ground. 10 points for guessing who I was imagining there. (Hint. She's sprightly and bleach blonde).
The class was rounded off by a sit up/press up session which I barely even attempted. Sweat was running off my face onto the mat (Dear next user, my apologies). My arms don't support my weight at the best of times, let alone after 55 minutes of that.
We staggered back to the changing rooms. I had under-boob sweat and my eyebrows ceased to be functional pretty much until I got home and showered. I got a message from Amelia with the six best words on the planet "Would you like a bacon sandwich?". I actually had to ring her in response because my thumb-to-eye coordination was shot and I think my finger nails were sweating.
So I drove home, had a cold shower, downed the leftover jelly and drove to Amelia's for a well earned bacon sarnie.
This class gets 9.5/10. It was intense. I think its similar to childbirth in that I've now forgotten the pain and am actually pretty psyched do the class again on Friday.
I also just picked up my sports bra to find that 8 hours later, it is still wet.
My eyes are sweating after this one. I am still in the testing phase of gym going, so I am trying to give everything and equal chance and not pay too much attention to the description. I will now point out that this is not a class "suitable for all levels of fitness". It is not one to be reckoned with.
Luckily I had Collette and Lorraine with me to offer some sort of solidarity in the studio. They were there illegally. Blatantly disregarding the queue system and therefore undermining the integrity of the gym, if you ask me. Shocking. But it was nice to think that if I passed out there would be someone I know to tell my mum I loved her.
It never bodes well when the sprightly, bleach blonde instructor wishes the newbies luck before the class begins. She did however assure us that all the moves would be in the warm up, which was mostly not a lie. It became clear very soon that this was going to be a difficult class. Lots of punches and kicks, and hopping from one foot to the other. The move that threw me the most was when she told us to skip, we involved us imaginging had skipping ropes. I genuinely could not tell you what my legs are supposed to do when I skip. All I know is when then is no rope to jump over; flailing is the only option.
She kindly took us through arms and legs separately so the other could recover. I know I said previously that I don't suffer from bingo wings, but punching imaginary hitmen repeatedly quite honest made my entire arm ripple, so now I'm not entirely sure if that is supposed to happen or whether I do, in fact, have fat upper arms. Maybe we will never know.
Things got immense when she whacked out the Pirates of the Caribbean remix. I swear every exercise on the planet should involve that piece of music. Hans Zimmer I salute you. We did some awesome sword fight moves followed by stuff I didn't really care about because the sword fight was taking up too much of my brain capacity.
After this she announced we only had two songs left (only?! seriously I thought I was going to pass out about 20 minutes ago). At this point she dimmed the light and whacked out O Fortuna. But we did not surf.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rbZr7YoqK0
My life flashed before my eyes about five times during this routine. Broken up slightly by repeatedly punching an imaginary figure on the ground. 10 points for guessing who I was imagining there. (Hint. She's sprightly and bleach blonde).
The class was rounded off by a sit up/press up session which I barely even attempted. Sweat was running off my face onto the mat (Dear next user, my apologies). My arms don't support my weight at the best of times, let alone after 55 minutes of that.
We staggered back to the changing rooms. I had under-boob sweat and my eyebrows ceased to be functional pretty much until I got home and showered. I got a message from Amelia with the six best words on the planet "Would you like a bacon sandwich?". I actually had to ring her in response because my thumb-to-eye coordination was shot and I think my finger nails were sweating.
So I drove home, had a cold shower, downed the leftover jelly and drove to Amelia's for a well earned bacon sarnie.
This class gets 9.5/10. It was intense. I think its similar to childbirth in that I've now forgotten the pain and am actually pretty psyched do the class again on Friday.
I also just picked up my sports bra to find that 8 hours later, it is still wet.
Sunday 5 August 2012
Just keep swimming
Saturday 4th August - Swimming
I didn't think a blog about swimming would be too interesting, particularly as I assess how good a swim was by how many lengths I do. Yesterday I did 20 in record time, however my usual aim is 30. In my defence I was running out of time but I was also bored. Swimming for me, however, does have a bit of a back story.
I am not a good swimmer by any stretch. I can only boast my 25m badge on my swimming towel and I definitely didn't get to the point where I had to swim in my pyjamas. But I do quite like swimming, particularly with my bad shoulder. However I did have to recently man up and get over my fear of going to swimming pools. Not because I'm scared of donning a cossie or being shown up by 70 year old women who make it into the medium and fast lanes while I doggy paddle in the slow lane. Nope. Because I can't see a thing. Yes, I should probably get contact lenses but they're just not financially viable seeing as I would only wear them for swimming and on stage once or twice a year, so not really worth the money until I am well paid. Taking off my glasses is generally one of the scariest things I have to do. Every new swimming pool also means I have to suss out the route and have a quick nose so I can see in advance which lane and direction I should be aiming for.
So anyway. Virgin swimming pool is actually pretty close to the changing rooms. Once you know where the door is you practically fall straight into the pool when you come out.
This blog is mostly so I can comment on the absolute dream that is the Virgin swimming pool. It was probably the best pool going experience I have ever had. It isn't over chlorined and sting-y like Runnymeade, and it isn't exposed by glass on two sides like Jubilee. Perfect temperature, too. It's also weirdly dark blue with green stripes, which meant I couldn't see anyone else in my lane after a certain distance but I just trusted they'd be swimming in the right direction and probably see me first. I give swimming there 10/10. I probably won't post any more swimming blogs unless something exciting happens. Or if there is a huge demand to see how many lengths I could be arsed to do this week.
Friday 3 August 2012
Stripping and tapping
Today was supposed to be a rest day. I resisted popping in for a body conditioning class this morning, but instead I found myself taking part in a good 8 hours of good old home grown exercise instead.
Friday 3rd August, 11am-4pm - Stripping
Amelia asked me to help her strip her wallpaper. I say asked, I think I actually offered and she offered me food in return. I do pretty much anything for food. Even with the steamer to help, wallpaper stripping is one hell of a work out. Welcome to the gun show. The steamy, sweaty gun show. At one point I was balancing on a ladder, steamer in one hand, stripper in the other. That used a lot of muscles. I would recommend it for getting rid of bingo wings. If only that was something I suffered from. I give wallpaper stripping about 3/10 for exercise. Mostly because it hurt my shoulder a lot. However the day gets a 10/10 because gossipping with Amelia and constant supplies of tea always win.
Friday 3rd August, 8-10pm - Tapping
Then evening came, and I head to rehearsals. Always fun, never particularly strenuous. The average age of our cast is about 55. None of them can move particularly fast or in more than one direction, so should be a doddle, right?
Wrong.
Tonight we tap danced. Or at least that was the aim. The group I was heading up changed their routine three times because it was either too difficult or too similar to something else we were doing later in the dance. I am terrible at tap dancing. I am better at the Charleston but I definitely don't want to see what I actually look like.
Now I'm sitting in bed in my pants with a beer. I feel this balances things out.
Friday 3rd August, 11am-4pm - Stripping
Amelia asked me to help her strip her wallpaper. I say asked, I think I actually offered and she offered me food in return. I do pretty much anything for food. Even with the steamer to help, wallpaper stripping is one hell of a work out. Welcome to the gun show. The steamy, sweaty gun show. At one point I was balancing on a ladder, steamer in one hand, stripper in the other. That used a lot of muscles. I would recommend it for getting rid of bingo wings. If only that was something I suffered from. I give wallpaper stripping about 3/10 for exercise. Mostly because it hurt my shoulder a lot. However the day gets a 10/10 because gossipping with Amelia and constant supplies of tea always win.
Friday 3rd August, 8-10pm - Tapping
Then evening came, and I head to rehearsals. Always fun, never particularly strenuous. The average age of our cast is about 55. None of them can move particularly fast or in more than one direction, so should be a doddle, right?
Wrong.
Tonight we tap danced. Or at least that was the aim. The group I was heading up changed their routine three times because it was either too difficult or too similar to something else we were doing later in the dance. I am terrible at tap dancing. I am better at the Charleston but I definitely don't want to see what I actually look like.
Now I'm sitting in bed in my pants with a beer. I feel this balances things out.
Thursday 2 August 2012
The beginning
So I have now graduated, got myself a job and a proper grown up gym membership. I thought it would be insightful, amusing and altogether time filling to create a blog especially to document my gym going.
The purpose of this blog is two fold - both of those folds are entirely for me. However there might be some creases in which it provides entertainment to those who read it.
Fold one: It will help me improve my writing and blogging skills. I am still pretty new at this and I want to be the best I can be; what better way than to strip myself bare on the internet for the chastisement of billions?
Fold two: In turn, it will be a motivation for me to get off my butt and make the most of my gym membership. As much as I like to complain about exercise I do genuinely enjoy it (but don't tell anyone).
I know, I know what you're all thinking. Surely in a couple of months she'll get so good at the Zumba routines and can bench press 30 kg without smacking herself in the face with something so her blogs will be rendered boring. However, I can promise you, right here, right now; I have spent the last 22.5 years of my life an uncoordinated mess and I do not plan to give up the uncanny ability to make situations far more amusing or difficult than they needed to be.
So here goes:
Monday 30th July - Jeffery Joins the Jym
It was all surprisingly easy. I phoned up whilst still in my PJs with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a cup of tea in the other (phone balanced precariously on my ear like a hassled mother). I made an appointment, dressed myself, went to the gym, handed over my passport and bank details et voila! Membership.
My first sesh consisted of 10 minutes on a bike, 10 minutes on a cross trainer and some rowing. Which I gave up on after 750 m on the basis I'd forgotten to change the setting so I was actually pulling "10" instead of "5" like I usually do, so I figured it counted for double. Well I didn't want to over do it...
Wednesday 1st August - Zumba
Okay so this was not my first Zumba classes. The ones I have attended have been taken by a lovely, talented dancer with rock hard abs and an infallible smile. This doesn't so much for your self esteem, so I was quite pleased when the fitness instructor was what I would term normal sized. I had also recruited my good friend Collette* (*name changed to protect the innocent) along to keep me company; and while she is vastly skinnier and more elegant than myself, she is also about as coordinated as a teaspoon so we made excellent Zumba buddies. The routines were probably slightly more aerobic (which is good considering my usual Zumba complaint is that its fun but not much of a workout), however: NO GRAPEVINE. How do these people expect me to have any sort of grounding to base the rest of my Latino-style hip bumping around if there is NO GRAPEVINE? If this continues I may have to write a letter.
Overall the class was fun, and there were little to no mishaps. There was a move that involved squatting and body popping which made me feel like an extra to Step Up 4 (Coming to a theatre near you!), although I'm sure that my casting video would have made the blooper reel. I would give it a 6/10.
Thursday 2nd August - Step
So today I braved Step class (alone, I shall point out, as Collette and Lorraine abandoned me). The room was smaller, and sunlight was allowed in, and like a rookie I went to the back... In direct sunlight. Definite error.
Luckily the format of the class was what I was used to, three parts of a routine that will confuse the hell out of you and be put together at the end when you can't even remember what your name is let alone the steps of the first third of the routine. This class is most definitely a work out for the brain, especially when the "Titles" of the sections are "Step over", "Curl over" and "Side step" which are not dissimilar names OR Step... urm... steps.
What I was not prepared for, however, is the extra FIFTEEN minutes, in which you are forced to do the full routine over and over in different combinations. We had 11 22 33, 123 123 123 123, 123 321 123 321. Still following? I wasn't. I think by the end, through the absolute exhaustion I managed to get about 90% of the routine "right". The use of inverted commas here denotes my absolute lack of grace and skill: What I mean is 90% of the time I stepped at the same time as everyone else.
But that's what you expect to not be prepared for in a Step class. What no one can prepare you for is the fact your instructor is around 8 months pregnant and full of energy. Halfway through the session I found myself wanting to angrily shout "NO, YOU HOLD IN YOUR FRIGGING STOMACH YOU FAT BITCH". But luckily I was too busy seeing stars and being blinded by my own sweat to even utter a "woohoo" when she so vigorously demanded one. For the rest of the time I was just convinced she was about to burst her poor, mangled foetus everywhere. Then to my complete surprise, she announced "Right, time for Pirates" and whacked on an upbeat remix of the Pirates of the Caribbean theme tune for us to do the routine to. That was a low point of the hour.
I would give this class an 8/10. It felt properly worked out and felt good after; but the steps were too repetitive and samey to be able to follow the routine properly. Plus, still no grapevine. Sigh.
The purpose of this blog is two fold - both of those folds are entirely for me. However there might be some creases in which it provides entertainment to those who read it.
Fold one: It will help me improve my writing and blogging skills. I am still pretty new at this and I want to be the best I can be; what better way than to strip myself bare on the internet for the chastisement of billions?
Fold two: In turn, it will be a motivation for me to get off my butt and make the most of my gym membership. As much as I like to complain about exercise I do genuinely enjoy it (but don't tell anyone).
I know, I know what you're all thinking. Surely in a couple of months she'll get so good at the Zumba routines and can bench press 30 kg without smacking herself in the face with something so her blogs will be rendered boring. However, I can promise you, right here, right now; I have spent the last 22.5 years of my life an uncoordinated mess and I do not plan to give up the uncanny ability to make situations far more amusing or difficult than they needed to be.
So here goes:
Monday 30th July - Jeffery Joins the Jym
It was all surprisingly easy. I phoned up whilst still in my PJs with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a cup of tea in the other (phone balanced precariously on my ear like a hassled mother). I made an appointment, dressed myself, went to the gym, handed over my passport and bank details et voila! Membership.
My first sesh consisted of 10 minutes on a bike, 10 minutes on a cross trainer and some rowing. Which I gave up on after 750 m on the basis I'd forgotten to change the setting so I was actually pulling "10" instead of "5" like I usually do, so I figured it counted for double. Well I didn't want to over do it...
Wednesday 1st August - Zumba
Okay so this was not my first Zumba classes. The ones I have attended have been taken by a lovely, talented dancer with rock hard abs and an infallible smile. This doesn't so much for your self esteem, so I was quite pleased when the fitness instructor was what I would term normal sized. I had also recruited my good friend Collette* (*name changed to protect the innocent) along to keep me company; and while she is vastly skinnier and more elegant than myself, she is also about as coordinated as a teaspoon so we made excellent Zumba buddies. The routines were probably slightly more aerobic (which is good considering my usual Zumba complaint is that its fun but not much of a workout), however: NO GRAPEVINE. How do these people expect me to have any sort of grounding to base the rest of my Latino-style hip bumping around if there is NO GRAPEVINE? If this continues I may have to write a letter.
Overall the class was fun, and there were little to no mishaps. There was a move that involved squatting and body popping which made me feel like an extra to Step Up 4 (Coming to a theatre near you!), although I'm sure that my casting video would have made the blooper reel. I would give it a 6/10.
Thursday 2nd August - Step
So today I braved Step class (alone, I shall point out, as Collette and Lorraine abandoned me). The room was smaller, and sunlight was allowed in, and like a rookie I went to the back... In direct sunlight. Definite error.
Luckily the format of the class was what I was used to, three parts of a routine that will confuse the hell out of you and be put together at the end when you can't even remember what your name is let alone the steps of the first third of the routine. This class is most definitely a work out for the brain, especially when the "Titles" of the sections are "Step over", "Curl over" and "Side step" which are not dissimilar names OR Step... urm... steps.
What I was not prepared for, however, is the extra FIFTEEN minutes, in which you are forced to do the full routine over and over in different combinations. We had 11 22 33, 123 123 123 123, 123 321 123 321. Still following? I wasn't. I think by the end, through the absolute exhaustion I managed to get about 90% of the routine "right". The use of inverted commas here denotes my absolute lack of grace and skill: What I mean is 90% of the time I stepped at the same time as everyone else.
But that's what you expect to not be prepared for in a Step class. What no one can prepare you for is the fact your instructor is around 8 months pregnant and full of energy. Halfway through the session I found myself wanting to angrily shout "NO, YOU HOLD IN YOUR FRIGGING STOMACH YOU FAT BITCH". But luckily I was too busy seeing stars and being blinded by my own sweat to even utter a "woohoo" when she so vigorously demanded one. For the rest of the time I was just convinced she was about to burst her poor, mangled foetus everywhere. Then to my complete surprise, she announced "Right, time for Pirates" and whacked on an upbeat remix of the Pirates of the Caribbean theme tune for us to do the routine to. That was a low point of the hour.
I would give this class an 8/10. It felt properly worked out and felt good after; but the steps were too repetitive and samey to be able to follow the routine properly. Plus, still no grapevine. Sigh.
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