Easy Does It...

The last time I posted, it was last year! I admit I have been remiss...
It's a brand new year, 2011. Time for making resolutions and getting to the gym with new resolve to shed the kilo's. I have decided not to make any resolutions this year. I plan to set some goals. More about that later.

I finally graced the gym this year. I forced myself to spend 20 minutes on the treadmill at the speed of 6km per hour. No speeding fines there. It was a little disconcerting I was flanked by two elderly people both running for our allotted 20 minutes. At this gym you can only spend 20 minutes on the treadmill and other cardio apparatus or something may happen, and I didn't plan to find out what. I glanced over at lady no 1 on my left...she was jogging at 9.9km's per hour and the elderly gentleman on my right was doing more than her. They looked like they could go on for hours.

Meanwhile I was feeling like I may be close to death. I glanced down to see how long I had endured the relentless torture. I had only been going for 2 minutes. I had 18 more to go. I closed my eyes and played the guess how long youv'e been walking game. 30 seconds feels like 5 minutes - I swear. I had grabbed a flavoured water on my way out the house. I am  not really a fan of water. I took a swig of it on the dreadmill. It tasted perfectly awful, my face looked like I had just taken a swig of home brewed Gin. Liquid fire. I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself somewhere off the coast of Zanzibar, sveldt and wearing a white bikini. That didn't help.

After the treadmill. I floated off to the stationary bikes. I had done it. SUCCESS.I was generous in my congratulations. I spent 20 minutes peddling ever so imperceptibly on the bike whist my tail bones and the bike seat worked together ensuring I would find sitting strangely uncomfortable for the next few days. I must say it was a little easier on the bike if you don't ask my tail bones for their opinion.

Finally it was time to head over to the toning machines. I studied the instructions on each one. I failed to understand any of them. After making up several exercises I was forced to seek help from one of the muscular men in red. The personal trainers on duty. In a jiffy I was off the machines and in his office. He was punching in personal information and printing out diet plans and excercize regimes. I was to be reorientated.

He pointed out that he had red eyes. So he did! He then went to explain that he had been having girlfriend troubles. I listened intently to my patients troubles like any good shrink would. Asking questions and making aha's at the right time followed by the " I see's" and " how do you feel about that's ? " All in all I believe he had a good session. We made a plan to have a follow up session the following day. He would take my muscle fat index and I guess I was on the hook for a few more intelligent grunts.

I arrived at the gym a little late and couldn't find my man any way. I headed over to the treadmill. Another twenty minutes of grueling torture. I was going to be a super spy and never let up or reveal the secret identity of the other spy's or their whereabouts no mater how hard the dreadmill pushed me.

That's all very well in theory. Here's how it worked. I had some time to think. In between my painful pacing. Stress causes cortisol to build up in your bloodstream. Cortisol, a particularly nasty stress hormone is responsible for weight gain around the midriff. Which I already have plenty of. Now all this torture on the treadmill is bound to stress me out, particularly the pain, which would negate the benefit of the exercise, causing me to get fatter rather than thinner. I concluded that I was better off finding a form of exercise that I enjoyed. I hit the emergency stop on the treadmill sped past the exercise bikes and slunk past Andrew ( the PT) without him seeing me. I didn't think he would understand  my reasoning.

So today.I am off to the beach to do some snorkeling, far away from the grind of the treadmill or the seat bruising stationary bike...