I'm not sporty, dear reader, not by a long shot. In Year 3 I placed eighth out of eight in the sack race on sports day. I am out of breath walking up the hill that I live at the bottom of, and I'm pretty sure just watching the London Olympics gave me a stitch. But sacrifices had to be made. After a weak attempt to run across the Forest Rec ground last week, I soon came to the conclusion that running was not my forte and I'd have to do something else.
Which I have. (Brace yourselves...)
Online exercise videos. I'm not afraid to say it, online exercise videos. From cardio to pilates, yoga to HIIT, I have become an expert. I could go on Mastermind with "YouTube exercise routines" as a specialist subject and not too too shabbily. Last week, on top of my game, I did what is known as the Victoria's Secret Ten Minute Cardio Blast. My housemate James laughed so hard when he found out about my foray into the world of looking like Gisele Bundchen that I felt the walls shake. How dare he, I am a supermodel in the making doing my VS Cardio Blast! Just typing the name of the workout makes me cringe, but not as much as I did the following day when trying to walk to the bus stop. OH THE PAIN, THE AGONY, THE BURNING, STABBING MALAISE COURSING THROUGH MY LEGS AND RIBS, WHAT IN THE NAME OF ADRIANA LIMA HAVE I DONE?! I decided to try something else. Something I would soon discover had an even cheesier name and even more painful effect on my soft little tummy. The inFit Burn to the Beat (I'm not joking) consisted of twerking - which I, as someone with as much rhythm as a teaspoon shouldn't even try to do - and a move the overly excited instructor referred to as "booty rolls" which I have an issue with. How is my booty supposed to roll? Is that possible? I tried it and heard an ominous click come from my hip, immediately thought EARLY ONSET ARTHRITIS and stopped. I stood in my bedroom, red faced, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern, muttering "Jesus H Christ..." under my breath. NO. I CANNOT GIVE UP, HASHTAG THIS GIRL CAN YAAAAS GAGA YOU LOOK SO GOOD YOU CAN DO THIS, DO IT FOR THE GIRL WHO CAME EIGHTH IN A SACK RACE, and I soldiered on. Brave, aren't I? In my Jack Wills gym wear which I bought purely for the aesthetic and my hair actually sticking to my face, I stuck my hips at all sorts of peculiar angles, kicked a bit and jumped about in a move called the "ski curtsey" until the bitter end of the workout when I fell face first onto my bed and considered never moving again. I had done it. This was my Rocky moment. I was running up the steps, punching the air and shouting. "Wow," I thought "I am in SUCH good shape, that was amazing!"
Until the next day. The ominous click had returned and the searing pain in my waist was throbbing so strongly that twice my friends asked if I was okay when I stood up from a chair. Aching, I returned home and straight to the cupboard to eat the family size Galaxy bar I'd been saving.
It's all about balance.
Online exercise videos. I'm not afraid to say it, online exercise videos. From cardio to pilates, yoga to HIIT, I have become an expert. I could go on Mastermind with "YouTube exercise routines" as a specialist subject and not too too shabbily. Last week, on top of my game, I did what is known as the Victoria's Secret Ten Minute Cardio Blast. My housemate James laughed so hard when he found out about my foray into the world of looking like Gisele Bundchen that I felt the walls shake. How dare he, I am a supermodel in the making doing my VS Cardio Blast! Just typing the name of the workout makes me cringe, but not as much as I did the following day when trying to walk to the bus stop. OH THE PAIN, THE AGONY, THE BURNING, STABBING MALAISE COURSING THROUGH MY LEGS AND RIBS, WHAT IN THE NAME OF ADRIANA LIMA HAVE I DONE?! I decided to try something else. Something I would soon discover had an even cheesier name and even more painful effect on my soft little tummy. The inFit Burn to the Beat (I'm not joking) consisted of twerking - which I, as someone with as much rhythm as a teaspoon shouldn't even try to do - and a move the overly excited instructor referred to as "booty rolls" which I have an issue with. How is my booty supposed to roll? Is that possible? I tried it and heard an ominous click come from my hip, immediately thought EARLY ONSET ARTHRITIS and stopped. I stood in my bedroom, red faced, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern, muttering "Jesus H Christ..." under my breath. NO. I CANNOT GIVE UP, HASHTAG THIS GIRL CAN YAAAAS GAGA YOU LOOK SO GOOD YOU CAN DO THIS, DO IT FOR THE GIRL WHO CAME EIGHTH IN A SACK RACE, and I soldiered on. Brave, aren't I? In my Jack Wills gym wear which I bought purely for the aesthetic and my hair actually sticking to my face, I stuck my hips at all sorts of peculiar angles, kicked a bit and jumped about in a move called the "ski curtsey" until the bitter end of the workout when I fell face first onto my bed and considered never moving again. I had done it. This was my Rocky moment. I was running up the steps, punching the air and shouting. "Wow," I thought "I am in SUCH good shape, that was amazing!"
Until the next day. The ominous click had returned and the searing pain in my waist was throbbing so strongly that twice my friends asked if I was okay when I stood up from a chair. Aching, I returned home and straight to the cupboard to eat the family size Galaxy bar I'd been saving.
It's all about balance.
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