The other day I joked about the gym when I was talking about Thor.
I was very impressed by the change in Lewis Cunningham when I last saw him and I’ve been following Debra Lilley’s success with interest. Reading Chet’s post Tired of the Fat Jokes today has inspired me to out myself. I am on a bit of a health trip at the moment. Pretty much since I got into the Oracle ACE program I’ve piled on the weight. I could blame the disruption to my routine and foreign travel, but really I just got into avoiding exercise and eating crap food. Nobody to blame but myself.
About 2 months back I decided to sort my diet out. It’s been a little up and down, but so far I’ve lost 21 lbs. It feels a little like polishing a turd, as there is still a long way to go, but it’s a start. I ventured to the gym last week to start trying to get back into exercise again. I’m more interested in being fit, than being thin. It wasn’t very inspiring, so I decided to join a new place, hoping that the money would be a motivator. Today I had my first personal training session. Part of me hates the idea, because I know what I have to do, but I thought, in for a penny, in for a pound.
The guy was less than half my age and looked like he only stopped exercising to go to the toilet. He asked me what my goals were and after deciding that “to look like Brad Pitt in Fight Club” was not really an achievable goal I just said, “to get fit”. I would like to say I impressed him, but the reality was after 2 minutes I was considering feigning a heart attack so I could stop. After 15 minutes it took all my mental effort to stop myself from crying. I know interval training is great for getting fit, but it is so darn difficult, which is why it’s so easy not to bother with it when you are training on your own. After that I spent about 15 mins on a bike silently debating the pros and cons of throwing up. Next the guy took me to the mats to show me some stretching stuff. After the shame of the previous 30 minutes it was nice to do something I can do well. I’m very flexible and if I’m honest I’m a bit of a stretching snob. I managed to keep my gob shut (I really must have been knackered) and let him do his job. I’ve booked in a session with him again next week. I’m going to try and get to the gym every day between now and then. Hopefully next time I will last 16 minutes of intervals before I want to cry.
With a bit of luck adding the exercise into the mix will speed things up keep me motivated.
Thanks to all those mentioned above, and countless other bloggers, whose posts serve as encouragement when the thought of surfing the net and eating pizza seems infinitely more appealing than vegetables and treadmills.