An array of "fit people" (they love - LOVE! - to be called that) have recently informed me that walking from one's front door to one's car does not really constitute exercise. What? It doesn't ??!! Just quietly, I think it depends on your perspective really. Exercise; I'm doing it wrong, apparently.
It's been some time since I walked through the doors of an exercise facility. But it has recently come to my attention that I have no more tricks up my sleeve to convince myself that it is out of the question to be doing any exercise of the get-fit variety.
So this week (not Monday because it is Halloween, and not Tuesday because it is Cup Day), I am starting a 10-day free introduction at the gym near my workplace. I'm not terribly happy about it, but I know I will probably sort of feel better when I get into the swing of things again. The gym people better sell this fit thing to me; like providing me with a bevy of hot, young, fit personal trainers. And cake. I will do just about anything for a slice of chocolate cake. I probably shouldn't get my hopes up about the cake.
It feels like yesterday when I last went to the gym; and I would be correct if yesterday was 2004. Yep, 2004. Long time between rowing machines, eh? Well, don't blame me, I have an endless list full of serious and important
This time in two months I 'm going to be a gym junkie again with great gym junkie legs. My favourite miniskirt isn't going to look awesome all by itself (if you tell me I'm too old for miniskirts I will break you). Alternatively, in two months I will be sitting on the couch eating chocolate. A bit of both these worlds would be perfect.
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