Last night I went outside. Literally and figuratively. Out of my comfort zone and outside. I went to Bootcamp. Mostly because it was free, (I am unable to resist the lure of something for nothing). I mean why not give it a go? The other reason was more obviously that I needed to do some kind of exercise as I have sat on my increasingly middle-aged arse for the best part of a year. What could possibly go wrong?
It’s safe to say I didn’t really think it through. It’s mid-October, of course it’s going to be dark – but I underestimated just how dark it would be – very.
Trainer: Right. Sprint to that big tree over there and then run back.
Me: It’s dark and we’re in a park. WHICH TREE!
You see my problem.
In fact we were lucky there were no collisions although the up side was that I could hide behind people easily and the fitness instructor couldn’t see me if I stopped mid-burpee (that’s a bunny hop to you and me) and fell flat on my face, which happened with alarming frequency (I told you I was unfit).
It had also been raining – ergo it was wet, muddy and very slippery. So it was no surprise that all the people there last night, along with me had not done it before – all the regulars had wised up and knew the filth bath that awaited us.
Trainer: Now do press ups.
Yes, press ups. Now I know this is Tooting Bec, hell it’s practically BALHAM and that these people probably *do* pick up after their dogs, but there was the ever present threat, in my mind at least, of dipping my nose in a turd. Every press up was a lottery, every sit up a challenge and not in the way intended. Every time I put my hand down I gave it a surreptitious sniff – just to check like.
Having said that it was nice to be outside the fresh air, rather than pounding away on a boring treadmill watching adverts for insurance with the sound turned down – but I don’t like lying down in mud, so maybe – one day – in the Summer (ever the optimist!). So tomorrow I’m trying Pilates. Inside.