Huff, Puff, Grunt

Gym day today. Me and Charles joined our local gym just before we went on holiday and, now that we are back, every Wednesday night is gym night. Today was our first ‘proper’ session. (We can’t really count the one before we went to Spain, as that was my first gym session in years, and Charles’ first in a while, so it was a somewhat half-hearted effort, curtailed by the fact that I needed to get home to watch Katie and Peter on ITV2!).

Anyway, today I decided I was going to really give it some welly! Charles sat there on the bike and did his stuff, barely appearing out of breath as he calmly got on with his normal routine, but I threw myself into it, gripping the bike handles tightly so that I could whizz the pedals round at a million revs per second without falling off my seat, huff-puffing and sweating, upping the level and speed every 5 minutes; then onto the rowing machine, which I had never used before and which Charles showed me how to use, whoosh whoosh whoosh; then thudding the running machine into submission for a good half hour, stomp stomp stomp; and also some press-ups and some stomach and back exercises in the middle of all that. Phroo! Sweaty! (I used Charles’ towel to mop my red, shiny face at one point… ewk, that was a mistake... it was horribly soggy with man-sweat!)

Remembering back a few years to when I was truly fit, how I got that way was a combination of two things: 1) always being late for college lectures and having to pedal my bike like billio to get there on time, finally flinging myself through the door in a sweating, gasping heap to collapse on the nearest empty chair (I bet everyone loved sitting next to me in lectures!) – and, 2) being so competitive that I could never allow another cyclist to overtake me, even lycra-clad athletic types on their shiny racing bikes. My short, girly legs would pump the pedals of my little mountain bike so fast that they almost went invisible, refusing to be beaten, having to overtake each person back, no matter how out of breath I got, no matter how much my legs hurt! Anyway, the net result of all that pushing myself to my limits on a several-times-daily basis was rock hard muscles and a superfit body. I want to be like that again! Not sure I can achieve it without setting up camp in the gym, mind you, but once a week is something and so I’m bloody well going to push myself while I’m there!

I must say, I do like having Charles’ company at the gym. He’s very good at making us get out and do stuff (if running/gym was left up to me I think I’d quickly find excuses not to go, I’m such a lazy moo!) and I’m always glad we've made the effort once I’m into an exercise session. It’s nice, too, having him come up and offer me water, or just having a bit of a chat between machines. And because he’s more of a gym bod than me, it’s useful to be able to ask him how to use the equipment, or what exercise I should do for a particular muscle group. He definitely makes exercise sessions more fun! Everyone should take a Charles to the gym!