Okay excuse the terrible pun, what can i say i’m a trekkie of the worst kind. So today a very kind friend sent a donation of a cross trainer in my direction, probably an affectionate kick up my ample derriere to help with my never ending weight loss see saw. You’d never believe that only two years ago i used to nigh on live in the gym, getting screamed at by a sadistic personal trainer friend was very much part of the routine 7 days a week. Actually having a personal trainer who is a friend is probably the worst thing because they tend to take great delight in being mean and pushing you even harder than a normal trainer would.
I admit i loved the weight training and trained with a couple of body building guys, loved the treadmill although despite my trainers best efforts he never could turn me into a runner. I seem to have some short circuit between legs and lungs which leaves it impossible for both to work at the same time. Trust me you could put a 90% sale on at monsoon and i still wouldn’t manage a run!!
But as is always the case in any gym i had my nemesis, the cross trainer!!
My trainer knew this and would paste on evil grin, clap me on the back and say ”Right then Amanda time for the cross trainer i think, twenty minutes to start”
To start?! Oh yes he meant it too, setting the timer for twenty minutes and barking out a speed. Even trying to distract myself with the huge screen tv did little to help and as my legs turned to jelly my lungs waved a white flag and grabbed frantically at my inner ribcage trying to reach daylight and more air. Just when i thought my lungs would explode the ritual slap on the back would come and crazy non stop yells to kick up the speed and hold it for a minute. WHAT??? are you trying to kill me?? Hello..barely breathing here!! Oh there was no getting out of it because you werent getting off that machine until you’d done your twenty minutes and kicked your heartrate up to a level that satisfied the demon trainer.
Actually i confess i expected to see the heart rate monitor dialling 999 and paramedics coming to my rescue for i really did think i was going out of there in a box and ohhhh seriously its hard to remind yourself that this grinning torturer is your friend and i dreaded every minute of that torture chamber.
So it really seemed the perfect thing to do when a friend offered me a cross trainer. Of course i said yes…. in the three seconds before my brain connected to my mouth! So some time later determination set in, i switched on the latest episode of The Biggest Loser and hopped on thinking thin thoughts. 15 minutes later my thighs are singing their way through a song and dance routine chirping burn baby burn and the rest of me is hallucinating it’s in the Sahara desert, gasping out croaks of water…i need water!!
Well i guess this all just goes to prove im really not that fit any more despite how much i walk and perhaps its just as well i accepted this after all. But i’m determined to do it even if i do have to stop every 10 minutes, i’ll just get right back on again. But if sometime this week you dont hear from me it’ll be because i’m mid crawl halfway up the stairs since my legs gave out and the desert came and swallowed me up. Roll on when i’m 70 and it wont matter any more, i can just eat chocolate to my hearts content and be as unfit as i like. In the meantime i just need to get my butt moving to make sure i actually make 70 but just incase i’m putting emergency services on speed dial….