Evil Personal Trainer asked me what my goals were. I told him I wanted to get rid of my bingo wings before the wedding (he sniggered). Then he devised a punishing* schedule of cardio work, and resistance training, including lots of fitnessy type terms like chest presses and iso-ab work, none of which mean anything to me. But he also gave me an Idiot's Guide to the Gym, on which he drew little stick men to remind me how to do each exercise. He clearly had my number because this was before I told him about falling off the cross trainer. I wished I'd kept my mouth shut about that though as, instead of laughing like everyone else I've told, he just looked at me a bit strangely and said that none of his clients had ever done that before... Maybe he thought I wasn't taking things seriously enough. Or maybe he was concerned about leaving me unsupervised in the presence of dangerous equipment. Oh well.
*Well alright, it's probably quite tame. It is about 4 years since I got off my arse to do any exercise beyond walking to the kitchen.
He then showed me how to do each exercise, and made me practise it so he could tell me what I was doing wrong (turns out I wasn't clenching my buttocks with enough zeal). One of the exercises he had me doing involved lying on my back with my legs in the air, bringing them in to my chest, then raising them again. It was, if you'll excuse my language, really fucking hard! I was terrified I was going to let out a little trouser trump with all the exertion. Thankfully I managed not to disgrace myself.
That was yesterday, and then this morning I got up with the Boy at 6am (!), got to the gym for it opening at 6.30, and was warming up by 6.35. I did my programme (and was grateful for EPT's little stick men), then got myself ready for work and was at my desk 15 minutes earlier than usual, starving and in pain, but happy. It's 3pm, I can now type without wincing, and I feel good for getting my toosh in gear and doing some exercise. I'm aiming for at least two visits a week, ideally three.
This means I can go home tonight and eat chocolate with a clear conscience - I burned nearly a whole Crunchie on the cross trainer alone.