Thursday, 3 September 2009


I hate going to the gym. Really, really hate going to the gym, (even with a discount and much cheapness. One trip makes it worth while) but today, the BBC weather boy got it right. Rain? Understatement. Really, really wet stuff. I'd have to be some kind of serious masochist to be out there today and I really, really needed to know how my minor injuries are doing. Nothing to do with being bored brainless. No, no, not me.

So, I bit the bullet and went to the gym. The door wouldn't open when I swiped my card. This isn't too practical. I eventually pressed the button with the sign reading "Press here if you can't gain entry" and decided to pop by the office and find out why my card wasn't working.

"Were you having trouble?"

Stupid question.

"Yes, I've renewed my membership, in May as it happens. No, my husband didn't just say he had and gone to the bookies! Yes, it is your mistake" and I off I go with my sorted card to torture myself for 21 minutes on the eliptical trainer, followed by 26 minutes walking on the treadmill with a serious incline. Just for fun. Odd times I know, it's the cool down that always catches me out with timing.

It's not so much torture because it's hard, I don't tax myself unnecessarily, it is after all just to replace not being able to enjoy the great outdoors. It's torture because of all the fanatics I have to train with, although there were only about half a dozen other mad people there. Relief.

I beat a hasty retreat home to my kitchen to make potato and sweetcorn chowder for lunch. Can't beat a good soup on a day like to day and boy do I make good soup.

Oh, and the injuries? Seem to be doing ok. If the rain lets up tomorrow, I'm going for a walk!

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