Exercise is one of those things that we all know we should do, some of us always plan to do, others think about doing, but often, something gets in the way.
Like cake. Or wine. Or sleeping in bed another 5 minutes.
So many hazards to being able to exercise.
We know before we even get to the gym or the park or wherever we choose to exercise, that once we've got there, it's not that bad, and once we've done it - we feel great.!
But..... We often feel that great that we shower and wash our hair then go and find...cake... And wine.. Because... We have 'earned' it!
There's a saying that the most difficult part of going to exercise is getting through that door to the gym, personally I don't find it that heavy to open. Wonder what they mean?!
It's the bloody metal and plastic wonderland that lays within that does my head in- and that's just the men.
The machines aren't much better.
The treadmill for example is just a walk to nowhere. You walk, jog or run 5 miles and never get there. And to top it off, you dismount feeling like spongebob squarepants because the solid ground stops feeling solid for a moment and you have to fake to the whole gym that you are feeling just great and nothing feels weird at all!
The cross trainer I can't come to terms with because it's apparently 'cross'. If I had a mate called 'cross christine' for example, I would probably avoid her because she has that name for a reason, so the same theory applies here as far as I'm concerned.
That leaves the rower which is plain stupid. It's nothing like being on water and I should know because I went on a pedalo at the park last week.
Some mums say that when you have kids you don't need the gym, you are far too busy running after the children to need to exercise. Phah! (that's me spitting a small piece of cake out) (a very very small piece- don't like to waste cake!)
I own kids, I run nowhere fast with the baby, and I've even started eating the rest of the purées that I'm testing out on her, pre 'official' weaning. More calories there and she's not engaging me in a work out type life either.
The boy, well he keeps me on my toes, but that's more of a mental thing, in that, he's sending me mental most days because I have to try and guess what he's going to do before he does it, but even on that basis, I did not predict that he would kick the football at my head in the house and shout 'Goal fat head'. But again, I'm not exactly puffed out looking after him. Slightly insane but not puffed out.
That leaves the girl. She sometimes wants fetching and carrying places but we do all that in the car. She's pretty self sufficient around the house and what she can't reach, she finds a chair to help. So again, not puffed out. Not having a permanent work out. I sit down less but that's generally because I'm walking to the kitchen just to open the cupboards or the fridge to see what I can snaffle away at.
So I don't buy that mums don't need to exercise palava, that saying was invented by some fatty bum who now looks like a cake most probably.
Besides, I've said it before, if I personally didn't exercise, if I didn't go off even a couple of hours a week, I would punch someone, and I can't punch.
I discovered this in body combat where my good 'friend ' (questionable) called me a windmill based on my ninja like arm moves. I still think she was scared by my unique technique. She said 'of course I was scared of it, your arms were flying everywhere I thought you might have hit me for real, it's not real fighting you know, it's just a class.
And if it hadn't been, I would have knocked you out while you were windmilling, you left me a clear shot.'
Point taken. Never been to combat since. She's still my friend. I still windmill.
So I run instead, arms stay close to body, public stays safe from flour mill human! And running I can do. I learnt as a toddler. Hoping the technique has improved since those days but I never want to watch myself to find out. I've never pulled whilst out running so that might explain a few things to me.
Running is a head clearer and it does give a massive sense of achievement, it also gives massive bruises if you don't buy a suitable boulder holder for your tits, but that aside, Lycra pretty much keeps the rest from jiggling around.
It's not that I enjoy the process of running, although going with someone makes a massive difference to motivation and progression. But go with someone roughly on your level. I've ran with my sister, the marathon knobhead. She's fast, she runs away,
You feel like a toddler lagging behind. She's a shithead.
What I do enjoy is the end bit. The finish line, the achievement. The fact you've done it so don't have to do it again for a day or so. The fact that cake and wine don't feel like they're travelling straight onto your hips once they pass the lips. The fact you sleep a little bit better because you're quite frankly, knackered.
The fact you feel you can conquer the world for at least a couple of hours after anyway. And the fact that you've done what you thought you couldn't.
A bit like childbirth I guess. Just when you think you can't push anymore - you give it all you have and there's a baby on you.
However, I should point out that if you ever go to the gym or out running and return with a baby- something somewhere has gone a bit wrong, you would really need to retrace your steps on that one!
Happy Exercising!
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