Taking the plunge

Hi, my name is Cumulus and I am a podgy exercise avoider.

My excuses are numerous, and very uninteresting. You know the kind of stuff. I was rubbish at sports at school, I have no time to myself, I have little spare cash to waste on gym fees, I don't enjoy it, I am bored quickly, I lack the motivation, I have such terrible body-image issues that I tend to avoid anything that makes me think about my physical wellbeing, I find exercising lonely and am too unco-ordinated for team games, I am getting a bit older and find it all more exhausting than I used to, I injure more easily, I am carting around far too many kilos which makes it all more tiring and dispiriting...and exercise is boring. Incredibly, incredibly, boring. If it isn't boring it's unpleasant, it makes your arms and legs hurt and it leaves you tired. Also, whilst you are exercising you are constantly fighting the urge to stop and go and find a nice cappucino or something, because your mind is telling you you've done quite enough for today. Even though you've been there for five minutes. Then there are the depressingly beautiful bodies you encounter, at a gym or swimming pool or even on the road, as you pant up the hill and are overtaken by Mr Dedicated Sixpack. Oh, and you haven't any gym clothes and your trousers keep falling down, not because you have lost weight but because they have lost their elastic stretchiness. And then you kill yourself on the equipment for forever and at the end a cheery little note pops up saying you have just used up seven calories. Which is odd, because you are going to need a bottle of wine and a three-course-meal to restore your joie-de-vivre.

Good heavens just writing this list makes me want to ditch the treadmill and go and find some wine.

Oh, OK, there is another reason. I have had a tough few years and all my energies have gone into managing the additional needs of my children (if you want to read that story, look up my blog Green Pastures New). This has just left me wrung out like a teatowel. Frankly, if someone had suggested that I use the few remaining minutes of the day that are not occupied by worrying and caring for my boys to get fit I would probably have whopped them over the head, if I had had the upper body strength to do so of course.

But then I met two lovely women who both had children with SN, and who were both fit, I mean seriously fit, one is running a marathon in a couple of weeks. I kind of looked at them with my jaw dropping, and a little voice at the back of my mind said "Well if THEY can do it..." So I investigated. I discovered that our local gym had a subsidised creche, woohoo, and that the prices, whilst painful, were not so exorbitant that we would need to sell the house. (At least not unless my husband gets the fitness bug too).

And so I started. About two weeks ago. And it's great, I'm going regularly and feeling loads better. That means I should probably expect to give up again in about another fortnight, once the novelty wears off. Unless I find a way of keeping my momentum.

That's my next post.