Some people enjoy exercise. I am not one of those people. I wish I was because it would make the task of actually doing it much simpler. When I do bite the bullet and accept that raising my heart rate and sweating a bit is important, it is then that a flash in the pan occurs. It could be as short as a week or as long and drawn out as 6 months before it bites the dust along with my good intentions.
The burning question is: morning or night?
Do you drag your old carcass out of bed at the crack of dawn as the sun is rising, ripping yourself from your snug brushed cotton duvet that frankly is very reluctant to let you leave? Or do you crack on with your day which could be filled with housework, home-schooling and dirty washing, maybe even a full time job so you can think about it incessantly without relief until the time comes when you planned to do it but you’re now so anxiety ridden from thinking about it that you can’t manage it?
When I’m in the midst of an exercise spurt I much prefer a morning. Even though I’m a trifle creaky on waking, sometimes having to sit on the edge of the bed before actually getting off it just in case I jar my shoulder or put my back out, at least it means it’s done. Out of the way and free for the day. This also eliminates the possibility of thinking up mammoth amounts of ridiculous excuses throughout the course of the day as to why it’s just not going to be possible come night time.
Anyone remember Jane Fonda? I don’t mean more recently in the Netflix series Grace and Frankie, I’m talking about back in the day circa 1970s when she adorned our screens clad from head to toe in pink lycra and was the epitome of fitness leaping around over a box, cleverly calling it step aerobics. A goddess that everyone wanted to look like.
Jane Fonda must be 80 years old by now. Is it wrong to covet an 80 year old’s body? Asking for a friend.
I dislike sweating and being short of breath. I’m one of those who has to lay down for a bit after scaling 2 flights of stairs. I hate anything physically demanding to the point where I can usually talk myself out of whatever I’m contemplating thanks to far fetched fabrications I have invented as to why it wouldn’t be wise. When I eventually become focused and in the throes of an exercise spurt, in addition to Jane I might also partake in Shaun T’s insanity workouts which I can confirm are undoubtedly insane, but quite satisfying (once you’ve finished). I also like (I use this word begrudgingly) a spot of spinning.
A totally pointless cycling exercise that see’s a gang of crazy people pedalling like shit off a stick and sweating like Holy Fuck on a set of bikes that are bolted to the floor and go nowhere, making the cyclist so breathless they question if a stroke is imminent. The bike itself has a dial that can be twisted to increase or decrease intensity which you are left in charge of with the understanding you must push yourself and test your limits, and not have it on the easiest setting to mimic a Sunday afternoon jolly in the park.
The sadist trying to pass himself off as the instructor, who is actually the devil himself, will be sitting on a cycle at the front of the class shouting at the participants in a Sergeant Major voice, waiting for the moment when some poor bugger who can’t keep up (usually me), slows down in the nick of time to prevent an actual heart attack, so he can single them out and humiliate them.
It’s very fulfilling.
Actually, it’s a strange thing because even though I despise every living second of the class, throughout imagining ways to ‘off’ the personal trainer in charge, as soon as it’s over I can’t wait to book in for the next one. So weirdly addictive.
So in conclusion I am definitely a morning exerciser, if in fact I can claim to be an exerciser at all. Get it out of the way first thing and BOOM, it’s one thing you can cross off your ‘to do’ list before breakfast. Unless of course you accidentally put your hip out or twist your ankle due to not adequately warming up before trying to get out of bed, in which case you’re knackered either way so don’t sweat it. You won’t have to do it that morning, that evening or for the foreseeable future.