Got the gym blues

When I was at school, the stern and terrifying Miss Lewis used to tell us that if we forgot to bring our white socks to gym lessons, we would never get to university. This is not at all representative of the school I attended, which was a centre of academic excellence, but rather a reflection on PE teachers of a certain generation! Anyway, she had a point because as a persistent white socks offender, I did not go to university, choosing instead the vagaries and roller-coaster ride of drama school.

I was thinking about this today as I struggled with the third set of chest press (weight set at a feeble 12 kilos) exercises and wondered "why do I put myself through this?" Yes, I do get myself down to the torture chamber at least twice weekly and, sometimes, three times - usually with gorgeous husband and sometimes on my own. He is fit as a fiddle and gives a hundred percent. I moan and groan and hurt myself, have dizzy spells and try to get away with just one less rep if I think nobody is watching. Then I come over all guilty and do four extra as penance. See? Feeble.

I like to think of myself as someone who takes on a challenge and sees it through and there is no doubt that exercise suits me, to a point. But I am simply not getting any better at this. Each week, I try stronger weights, more repetitions and give myself a jolly good talking to and each week I struggle just the same.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining and Brighton always comes into its own on sunny days so everyone is all cheery and friendly, happy to stop and chat, driving politely and generally demonstrating their best qualities. And I have finished the first draft of the Notting Hill Carnival skills audit - hooray! Now all I have to do is get their sign - off and then run the project, write up their report and Bob's your uncle. 

I came home from the party on Saturday night and stayed up to finish the book in which I have been engrossed  for the past few days, despite it being two in the morning, then got up full of beans to enjoy Sunday papers, visits, gardening and even a sneaky cleaning out of the fountain which has become a magnet for every woodlouse within a mile radius.

So I'll banish the gym blues, treat it as just something to get through every few days and continue with the things I know I do better.

See you soon,

Angie