Last week, for the second time in less than seven days, I found myself standing on a set of scales with a measuring tape being dangled in front of my nose.
Unlike previous dates with these items I wasn’t bothered. Firstly because I already knew what the numbers would say. Secondly because I don’t particularly care.
As long as none of the bad ones (can you say ‘body fat percentage’?) go up, I’m going to be happy.
Today is officially day one of Revive and this morning saw me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the gym with my training buddy Leea for fitness testing.
What was different – for me at least – is this is actually the first time I’ve started a fitness programme with any type of fitness.
For several months now I’ve been a fairly regular visitor to the gymnasium, even showing my face in the scary weights room where I’ve darted around like a demented squirrel with the sole goal being to get out of it as fast as I possibly can.
Which brings me to the other thing that’s different this time.
We’re not going to be hanging out in the scary weights room very much at all. Our trainer, Haylee Roberts, knows we bore easily and figures the best thing to do with us is something different.
I started to feel a bit light-headed when she said “sprinting” – I’ve managed to increase my speed on the treadmill from a slow lope to the somewhat faster, but incredibly unattractive canter/lope but I am a LONG way off sprinting.
Then she threw in the words “box jumps”.
Haylee’s made me do this before.
I remember standing there like a half-sucked jube for what felt like an eternity, knees semi-bent, making the initial jumping movement at random intervals several times, getting as far as springing to my tip-toes before chickening out.
Eventually she literally held my hand (and part of my arm) and refused to let go until I’d actually jumped on the box.
I am not scared of heights.
I am, however, terrified of falling and when confronted with aforementioned box – which was, in fact, not even a box but a stool-type structure – that seemed VERY high and possibly unstable, I immediately pictured myself in the worst possible outcome, which involved me missing several teeth and sporting a broken nose.
I was still thinking about that when she mentioned the next activity she’s got planned for us.
It involves martial artistry. She mentioned kick boxing.
And also something to do with mixing the martial arts and the words “Muay Thai”.
This is an entirely foreign concept.
I’m quite crap at boxing … and, if recent attempts (which may or may not have involved wine) are anything to go by, even less good at high-leg kicking.
Provided I survive the sprinting, the jumping on boxes, and the martial arts, Haylee’s going to have another fun activity line up for us by week eight.
The mind is willing … one hopes the body will be able.