Yes, I know, EVERYONE does this. But bear with me, ok?
My 24th birthday is 16 weeks away, and that was the age I thought I would have my whole life figured out. Job, house, car, the works. Body somehow fell into that, and a recent doctors appointment reminded me of one major thing:
Holy Jesus I am out of shape.
A desk-based Masters degree course, no time to exercise, and a diet typical of all Irish people – carb heavy, and making up for the potatoes we missed out on during the Famine – left me stress eating to the max, sitting on my butt all day, and gaining almost a stone in six months. Ouch. It had to leave.
I took matters into my own hands and started a gym membership. New runners and gym clothes bought, Waterford jersey dusted off and water bottle filled, I bit the bullet and headed for the gym one Thursday after uni. I had a playlist on my iPod giving a nod to that other famous couch potato and I was ready to make a change.
And I died. I set off for a five km cycle (which had graduated from a three km cycle), and did 15 minutes brisk walking on the treadmills when they were free. I spent half the time worrying if my arse was showing from under my shorts. Then, when I came back to the dressing room, I was spinning. I needed to sit down in the showers to compose myself. I’d completely ignored my underlying heart condition and gone too fast too soon.
I wasn’t put off though, and I fully plan to keep with my three times weekly sessions. I will definitely kick back to the three km cycle for my next visit, and make a trip to the rowing machines as I promised myself. I may keep updated on here, I may not be very regular with them though. Some day, I’ll be up to an hourly visit each time, but for now, baby steps are what we need.
Can we have a before picture?
Oh, must you?