So as I can’t exercise post surgery, I thought I would make an attempt to at least eat healthily.
Grainy, salady, quinoa-ish salad was made.
Supposedly the recipe served 4- 6 but I really had no issues eating it all myself. Typo maybe?
So I met this old man on my street a few weeks ago who told me about his “power walking” adventures and how he was 82 years old and the best shape of his life.
As I listened to his incredible stories, I started to imagine myself power walking. Blissfully taking a stroll (a fast stroll) through the woods or by the beach. Feeling the breeze on my face and wind in my hair.
Power walking was the answer to all my exercise woes. It was going to be magical. Just me, my feet and my little dogs.
(Regular readers can probably tell where this is going).
So I took Houdini out for a walk at lunchtime and I met my “old man friend” (here in referred to as OMF) and he asked if I wanted to join him for a leisurely stroll through the posh part of town wink emoticon
I was already in my sweat pants and hoodie so was ready to kick some power walking ass.
Lovely stroll along Victorian streets watching flowers in the garden and children walk on by. Me with my little dog at my side. What could go wrong? EVERYTHING
It was about here that OMF told me he was meeting his buddies at the church. In my imagination this transferred to other old men (maybe with canes) joining us for our blissful adventure. I was wrong. Very wrong.
We turned up at the church and met 4 of the best in shape men I have ever seen in my life!! These men were ripped like body builders, tall like bloody towers and smelt amazing (Old Spice? Or another old man fragrance)……..they also had a combined age of 954 between them!
I was totally crushing on super old men. It felt so wrong, but also so right.
So we started off on what the men described as a “gentle stroll” which I would have more accurately described as SAS bootcamp training!!!!
We went up hills and down hills at such a speed that at one point I had to do that half running/half walking thing (you know the one when you really need the loo and just got outside your house) just to keep up with the pack (I guess a more accurate description would be “group” however these guys clearly weren’t human).
It was about then that OMF started checking in with me to see if I was “ok” (I clearly wasn’t). I blamed Houdini and his little legs for dragging me behind the rest of the guys (I am so sorry Houdini, I have sinned against you). I then did the “oh I went to spin class last night and kinda tired” bs excuse. They could not comprehend the idea of paying someone to ride a bicycle, while indoors, but looking at videos of being outside, while in a dark room. As much as I protested that “spinning” was a legit form of exercise, I don’t think they were convinced. In fact, it was about here that I realized I am really not as smart as I think I am!
We must have looked such a sight. There’s me, a middle aged white girl who can’t even walk properly with men 3 times her age. I felt so inadequate.
It was the sudden realization that if these men could survive a war, there was no way I would be able to keep up with them. They may have all been in their 80’s but I had to admit defeat and gracefully depart ways. I formulated an escape plan.
This next moment I am not proud of. This is the moment I call regret/survival……This is the moment I faked a phone call with an “emergency”!!!!!!
God I know, I am an awful person. I just lied to a bunch of 80 year old men that I had a phone call and I am surely going to hell. I am pretty sure none of them had an iPhone (or knew how to use one), but I am sure the tell tale sign of the phone NOT ringing may have given me away.
I said thanks to them all and then quickly (well as quickly as I could) went round the corner where I found a wall and sat outside someone’s house for 15 minutes in order to recover from the walking.
It took me 20 minutes to walk up my road the entire time coaxing Houdini to drag me.
I feel so dirty
I have concluded that I am totally allergic to exercise- it actually makes me want to vomit.
So my friend asked me to join her at spin class tonight and like a tool/fool I said “yes, sure, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
Apparently the worst thing that could happen was not within the realms of my imagination!!
I thought yesterday’s work out was torture but today was even worse.
Like a smart person, I took a few pain killers before I saw the gym, because you know, abs!!
Apparently this wasn’t enough to deal with the torture that was about to begin.
As a child, I wanted to be a spy. I still think about it every time I watch an espionage movie. I wouldn’t break under torture, under the threat of being killed, or limbs being removed. I would NEVER give up government secrets under any circumstances…….until they put me on a spin bike!!! Under those circumstances, I would tell them anything they wanted to know.
The instructor was a lovely friendly lady who appeared to have had too many Xanax pills as there is no way someone is naturally that perky (unless they were allowed to wake up in a room full of puppies).
She spoke us through all the necessaries of the bike. This is where I started to zone out. I knew how to use a bike dammit. I used to cycle the streets of Brooklyn and Manhattan without needing a manual, I got this spinning shit. How wrong I was.
Apparently I didn’t even know the most basic principle of bike riding-how to sit down on the bike!!!
No matter how I sat down, waves of pain shot up my ass. What the f*$k??? I couldn’t even sit on the bike??? This was gonna be a problem.
Turns out I have a very delicate bottom…. Like a peach🍑.
The next hour took us on a journey through the French Alps, Sweden and Germany as we were supposed to imagine ourselves having super awesome journeys on our bikes through these amazing places. Sadly, All I could think about were clouds. My bum sitting on lovely soft clouds instead of the wedge of pain between my ass!!!
I tried to do the only thing I could think of to reduce the pain, alternating between left bum cheek and right bum cheek. This worked for a while till both “cheeks” decided to protest this ridiculous treatment and just clenched and refused to work anymore.
Drastic times mean drastic measures. I took off my t-shirt and sat on it!!! That stupid piece of crap tshirt only seemed to make things worse so I asked my partner in crime for her towel…. To sit on. Even though we were cycling in the dark (or just pretending in my case) I could still see the weird look Jess gave me when I requested an ass towel. She legit thinks I am nuts now!
Time on bike: 2 minutes
Time in purgatory: 200 years
My fav part of spinning class was the not sitting on the bike part
3rd private session with my trainer and this time I managed to convince/ bribe/ mislead my sister to join me in what I described as a “fun filled session of stretching and basic movement”. Lies, lies, and more lies.
I just knew from the first 2 minutes of the trainer arriving that this session was gonna be fucking terrible. The fancy scales were brought out and BMI, bone density, fat levels, etc were taken for the two of us. You know when they start playing Darth Vader’s Imperial March a few moments before he appears? That’s how I felt about the exercise session that was about to start.
Within minutes of running on the spot and pushing my arms back and forth, I wanted to die and was closely resembling a tomato that had been out in the sun too long and fought a Germany beach goer for the last sun lounger in Benedorm!!!
About here I wanted to die. Minutes exercising .25 seconds!!!
The next 45 minutes involved me mostly using my stomach muscles (abs perhaps?) to prevent myself from vomiting all over my sister and trying really hard not to faint as I would have legit have to be taken out the window a la “Gilbert Grapes” mum!!!!
Water torture or water boarding would have been more fun than exercising.
When these thoughts entered my head, I thought maybe I should say something to the trainer but really couldn’t risk her answer being “if you have time to think, you aren’t working hard enough!!” So kept quiet…… Really quiet.
Time moves slower when you are exercising… Real slow. Like I swear I had seen my grandchildren graduate and elope (with totally inappropriate partners I may add) before this session ended. I swear I was marching on the spot for 90 years.
It finally ended and somehow between start and finish my legs had been replaced by jelly, my arms had fallen off and I felt like had gone a round with Mike Tyson.
Till next time