Well, I survived last night’s class. I arrived early and opted for a bike in the back row … mainly because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone being given a close-up view of my lycra-clad backside as I struggled and sweated away. I then spent ten minutes trying to adjust the damn thing so that my knees weren’t hitting me in the chin with every pedal and my hands could actually reach the handlebars. My trainer has been banging on about the importance of getting your bike in the right position … sadly he’s never got as far as showing me exactly what that position is (a big thank-you to the patient woman next to me for helping out). Having got comfortable (well, as comfortable as it’s possible to be on a concrete saddle that’s the width of a ruler) I was ready to go. Unfortunately, the world’s tallest man had opted for the bike directly between me and the class trainer, so I couldn’t see her at all. I decided I’d be fine if I just concentrated on what she was saying. Now I’m sure she did a splendid job of instructing us, but if you can imagine trying to listen to a diminutive woman with a heavy Eastern European accent yelling over the top of ear-splitting dance music then you’ll get some idea of what the experience was like.
But I got into it. I managed to deciper ‘sprint!’, ‘rest!’ and ‘turn it up 10!’ from whatever else she said, which was helpful. (By the way, if anyone can explain to me how an unmarked resistance dial is turned up or down in units of ten, I’d be very grateful). I didn’t have a heart attack, I didn’t have to stop pedalling, and I didn’t embarrass myself … although my left foot developed a life of its own and fell out of the pedal clasp twice, which was alarmingly painful as my leg crashed down towards the floor. Oh happy days.
Feeling extremely virtuous I went home and cooked a carb-free stew of lean beef, beetroot, cabbage and courgettes … and bloody good it was too. That said, I was really quite hungry again by the time I went to bed and can only put that down to the lack of carbs. I’m hoping that I get used to that in time … even on lighter life I used to have my food bar in the evening.
This morning I was up at some ridiculous hour and forcing myself to eat muesli. That’s another thing I need to get used to as I don’t normally have breakfast for a good two hours after getting up. Immediate eating is a must, apparently, if I’m to make friends with my ever-sluggish metabolism. I then took myself off to a yoga class on the way to work. Now, without offending anyone, I have a natural antipathy towards yoga. It’s all a bit worthy for me (and I have vivid memories of having to leave a class early in hysterics many years ago thanks to a particularly flatulent member of the class).
But this morning was great! I really enjoyed myself, despite being hopeless at most of the exercises. It became abundantly clear to me exactly why I need to do this. My stability and balance is so poor that I can’t even balance on my left leg … how pathetic is that? Now I know why my trainer rolls his eyes and mutters about yoga when I lift a weight and topple over. So I’m going to try and stick with this class. Apart from anything else, it’s a great way to start the day (believe it or not).
I’m due a 4 mile/6.5 km run tomorrow and I’m actually quite looking forward to it. My only slight worry is that my poor old left leg might give up on me as my spinning clumsiness means I’m sure I’ve pulled something. Here’s hoping I’ve not been a victim of my own enthusiasm, eh.