And so it begins...

I feel that this is completely topical right now.
And very, very true.

Yesterday, for what may actually be the first time in my life, I went to the gym.

By myself.

No nagging.

And I used the equipment and everything.

The gym has always petrified me because it doesn't come with instructions and, unlike dancing or running outside, it don't come naturally either.

My main reason to run, for netball, is gone because the season is over.

So who know why I packed my kit up and decided to do the darn thing anyway? Maybe because of all the other reasons left on that list.

I went in the morning, because if I didn't go in the morning, I'd find some excuse not to go.

I felt incredibly self-conscious as I passed the school kids at the bus stop, swinging my sports bag.

I'm pretty sure young adolescents and children can smell fear, so I crossed the road.

When I got there, my main targets, the treadmills, were already taken up. So I got on the cross trainer while I waited, since I know it's less impact on your joints.

I did a distance of 1.10 in 10 minutes something on the cross trainer. I did a distance of 1.14 on the treadmill at a speed of 7 in 12 minutes something.

I'd like to declare I have no clue what the heck those numbers mean.

But I ran! On the dreaded treadmill! For more than 4 minutes! And I didn't throw up! And I didn't do an Edie either!

I don't know what distance I did, but I want to see that number go up and the time number go down. I'm not sore at all, so I know I can definitely do better.


So I'm definitely going back on Monday morning.

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