When I served in the RAF, like a bajillion years ago, I used to keep relatively fit. My fave lunchtime activity was circuit training. It was a bloody doddle.
Over the years, since having Ellie, I've dipped in and out of training. I'd do a bit, lose weight then lose the will to live. For years I've been hideously overweight and yo-yo'd my way through 62.5 million emotions and situations. You know, like most girls!
This regime I've been on since June has been a stayer, though. I've taken my time and dealt with it sensibly. I tend to run, cycle and swim because I enjoy them the most whilst cutting out wheat into this program. But tonight I thought that, seeing as I've lost 7633589743 pounds of late, I'd go to circuits for a proper burn out.
What the actual hell?
Circuits round these parts are cleverly disguised as boot camp ninjaness. 5 minutes in and I was at deaths door. Where the hell was I going to muster another 55 minutes of energy from? To cap it off, the fella barking his orders at my seemingly sloth like effort was a proper mean and spit-in-your-face-and-make-you-cry kind of bloke. Seriously.
I think I was hallucinating throughout the rest of the session because I don't remember any activity except for just shortness of breath and immense pain. It's times like these you wonder why you don't carry a Kalashnikov down the back of your knickers.
Come the end I'd drank 2 litres of water and my face was pewse. Like a ribena berry but less excitable. I clocked the exit to see if Atilla the Hun had rang me an ambulance but no emergency staff were there to carry me off to A and E. I survived!!!!
For precisely one week I have been the worlds most miserable cow but after tonight's shenanigans at the gym, it's been knocked clean out of me.
As for coffee gate, my local Statbucks (by my studio) have been welcoming my gingerbread latte orders!!! Yesterday I was Sex a Goddess (obvs I am this everyday in real life)
And today I was even better.
The staff love it when I go in. We have such a laugh (even though inside I've been suffering but you just don't lash out at friendly Baristas...... Unless they can't spell). It lifts me momentarily and for that, I'm grateful to the awesome Starbucky staff at Pemberton on Scot Lane, Wigan.
I'll be in again tomorrow. Im thinking of being something less dramatic. Like, maybe, Barack Obama?