So . . . I went to the gym on Sunday. The one ten mins from my house, no cycling required. I had a quick induction then fell back onto my old loves: elliptical trainer, rowing machine, resistance machines. It felt so much like going home that I nearly cried.
I can’t believe how much I missed it. I can’t believe that I missed it at all!
Anyway, come Tuesday I decide to take advantage of the 24/7 schedule and take myself to an early class. By early we’re talking 6.30am.
Tuesday morning, 6.30am I stood in the studio of my local gym with twelve other lunatics, ready to sweat it out for half an hour in a Pure Fat Burn session. Something burned alright, but I’m not sure it was fat. >.<
I left the session sweaty, stinky and jelly legged, feeling pretty damn proud of myself.
Hyped up enough at 7am to hop onto the treadmill for a very gentle walk to calm myself down and then a good 20 minutes across my usual resistance machines.
No problem. My body can handle that. I know it can. The urge to run was huge (the treadmills are so puuurdy!) but I resisted since I don’t want to bugger up my ankle.
However, what my body couldn’t handle was the subsequent two hours in the park with the sprogs (it’s hard work pushing swings) and the further hour and a half on foot after that, pushing the double pram (mostly uphill) to buy fabric for my latest sewing project.
So. Much. Pain.
By 6.30pm I was wobbling around the house like a cripple, begging for bedtime. By 8pm I could barely get off the sofa.
Cue this morning, trying to get out of bed? Not pretty. Though I did—finally—get to the hospital for my physio referral. I now have plenty of exercises to do for my ankle and appointments for other bits and bobs that should make life on my feet easier. All hail the NHS! ^_^
Now . . . I’m going to sit down. Again. I’d clocked 10,000 steps before midday given all the running around I had to do for various bits n bobs and the day hasn’t slowed much since then. I’m actually grateful that most of tomorrow will be spent in a car. o.O