Yesterday I went to the gym. Today I cannot move. Every muscle in my body, and I’m talking about muscles that I didn’t even know existed, really really hurt. They hurt so much that I’m wondering how I am going to make it downstairs, or drive the kids to school (walking that far is out of the question today). Even attempting to have a pee is torture as it means using my thigh muscles to lower myself on to the loo seat. The gym has officially broken me!
Typically, I chose to start my get fit February programme in the week that I am on my own with the kids, and husband jollies it up in France ‘working’ as he calls it. This ‘work’ requires him to hang out in the South of France for 3 days sampling delicious organic wines. I keep swiping my weather app checking the Marseille weather (my fingers are about the only things not broken) and smirking at the very average 14 degrees and bit cloudy icons laughing back at me. Yes, I’m that pathetic and jealous. I also decided to jump head first into fit February, signing myself up for an hours worth of full on body conditioning, not really knowing what it entailed, but safe in the knowledge that I would have to stay the whole hour and put a bit of effort in in order to save face amongst a room full of regulars. I’ll be honest, I had originally tried to get into the yoga or pilates class, but those classes are harder to get into than Babington Farmhouse. Seriously, who can schedule their day that far in advance! If I’d not had the kids I could have tried the 7pm yoga class which strangely enough always has a space. But even before having kids, I attempted one of these evening classes thinking what a lovely way to de-stress after a long day at work. Problem is, they make you relax your whole body right at the beginning, and at some point after what seemed like only 2 minutes, I opened my eyes to find everyone else in the room in the downward dog pose, clearly trying not to make eye contact with the girl who’d come for a nap.
I’m not the kind of person to completely shy away from exercise, and I’m not totally unfit, or at least I hadn’t thought so. Running is usually my go to exercise as it’s free and flexible, or even a bit of 15 mins Davina (even I think 7 mins is a bit short). But a full on hour of jumping, squatting, lunging, more squatting, press ups, push ups, sit ups and more squatting has pushed my body to retaliate and freeze in protest. The kids keep asking me why I’m walking like a need a poo. Cos I can’t straighten my fucking legs!!!!! I can’t get my top over my head because my arms won’t reach high enough without seizing up and I’m getting to the point where I think I might just drive the kids to school in my pyjamas, that is of course if my legs will allow me to use the clutch and I can turn the steering wheel. Shame it’s not a direct straight line to the school gates.
Eventually, my body starts to loosen up a bit so that I can at least shower and dress and deliver the kids to their destination. I am not giving in, this is normal for someone who hasn’t done any real form of exercise since about November, I just have to push through. So the next task is to filter what I’m eating and drinking. I’m not disillusional and I never attempted dry January (why would I?), but I can try and cut out the sugar from my coffee, the bagels at lunch and the choccy digestives in the afternoon. The rest of the time I reckon I eat pretty healthily really. So I dust off the nutri bullet which has been out of action since the 8 rounds of Margaritas at Christmas (tip – Nutri bullets are multi talented and make the perfect margarita cocktail when not being used for breaking down flaxseeds and chia seeds). I don’t have protein powder or any of that old bollocks, but I do have spinach, pineapple, cucumber and a load of coconut water. Believe it or not, it’s actually quite delicious. I also make myself some poached eggs with avocado on toast. A cliché healthy brekkie but a very good one. My idea is to now skip lunch, only consuming the green stuff until dinner. So far so good.
3pm arrives and it’s time to collect the kids. I’ve been sitting at my desk working for about 3 hours solid, not even a loo break, and attempt to get up. Stumbling like a constipated animal I painfully try to get my legs working again so I can yet again make my way downstairs. At this point I’m thinking about living on one floor for the next few weeks whilst I get through this fitness hell, or alternatively using a sleeping bag to bum slide down. Kids collected, I dish out the snacks and drinks, chuck them their ipads and retreat back to the office upstairs. 5pm and I’m patting myself on the back for managing to only consume green juice and water without diving head first into some mid afternoon chocolate digestives. I can hear a fight about wotsits breaking out downstairs, so give up working for a while and head to the kitchen to start making dinner. Luckily I have kids that eat very well, so when they’re informed we’re having a heavily vegged up Chinese stirfry, they are more than happy to partake. And then I open the fridge. In the door with cold glistening beads on its glorious sleek and slender frame stands heaven. Cork poking out the top, almost waving at me. I stare for a while, mainly working out in my head how to factor this in to my plan. And then bingo, there it is. I read about this a lot. The best fitness instructors and nutritionists spew out this stuff constantly. Balance. It’s all about balance. And before I can talk myself out of it, as why would I, I grab a glass and pour. After all, it is kind of green too! Balance, balance, balance.
Much later……small fess up, around 10pm I found a little pot of reindeer chocolates that Santa forgot to put in the kids stocking at Christmas. They were teeny tiny and really good quality – balance, balance, balance.