All Aboard The Torture Train…

I have sorted my life out and re-joined the gym.

At 6 am this morning my alarm went off, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled down the road to my friendly neighbourhood gym for a Spinning Class.

It’s my first spinning class since November, and it’s going to knock me for six I can tell. Sitting at work now I can already feel my legs starting to complain. Give it a few hours and the tricep dips that I did this morning will kick in too no doubt. During the circuits class I genuinely thought I might throw up. In retrospect, I may have started with a bit too much. Whoops.

But it’s good for me (obviously) and I know it worked as the three months I did over the summer helped me to drop two stone.

Since my membership ran out in November I have been in two minds as to which gym to join. Do I go to one near my work and go before, on my lunch or after. Or do I stick with The Zone near where I live, and just get up at silly o’clock during the week. I even thought about getting some equipment for home. I soon scrapped that idea mind you – I know I would never use it and it would become a clothes hanger.

In the end it was mainly money that won out. The gym membership prices in Central London blow my mind. Even a 45 minuet spinning class can cost £25. Per Class. It’s absurd.

That’s not to say my local gym is cheap. But its much more personal, not part of a chain. I see the same people all the time and the trainers really do seem to be friendly, apart from when they are standing over you whilst you die on the TRX machine. (seriously – who invented that thing!!)

Now I just have to get back into the habit of dragging my butt out of bed when it’s still dark, and remember that I need to eat healthily most of the time. Not all of the time. I am going to the gym SO I can eat cake. I am in no rush to get wherever it is that I am going with this thing.

Tomorrow I have a personal torture session.

If I can get out of bed after today.

Wish me luck!


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