Today is February 8th. A fact which I am sure has not gone unnoticed by many. We are now good and done with the festive season, a long way off from those balmy summer nights and one too many jugs of pimms... and for those reckless few, myself included, counting down the days to pay day. Again.
It is also a full month and eight days since I made those yearly Resolutions. The resoulutions that everyone maintains will change the outcome of the prospective year. And every year we forget how utterly pointless they were and we make another promise to quit smoking, limit alcohol units and call Granny more often.
I, obviously, forgot these realisations from last year and set myself the annual challenges. Granted they were made post numerous flutes of Champagne and various other alcoholic beverages - nevertheless I vowed ( like every year) to stick to them.
1. Get the gym more.
2. Buy fewer shoes.
3. Clear the overdraft (an essential to student life, but a heavy weight in the 'real' world)
After revelling in the delight of a complimentary gym membership - a perk which for many is like rocking horse poo, I decided to have my induction.
Gym's by nature, scare me. Don't ask. It has something to do with lots of impressively athletic people, weightlifters making lots of noise and all those machines that move, flash and beep at you when you don't run/cycle/x-train fast enough.
It was easy enough to spot the Resolutions-ists. We stood out. Shiny white trainers. A look of fear and trepidation and brand new gym gear.
I realised after I'd finished sweating a monsoon amount of fluid from a 'light warm up" that I had left the labels in mine.
A true novice.But of the menagerie of new starters, I am the only one left. At least, I assume I'm the only one left. Until yesterday I hadn't been for three weeks.
We shall ignore the lack of persistance in this fitness regime. For I am now 'back in the game' and striving to improve my 'Grandad' level of fitness as was so eloquently described by Tom, the chap who educated me in the use of all those machines. But my self motivation is all very well the night before, but when my alarm goes off at 6.30am for that early morning kick-start before work, my motivation and desire to be a beach nymph is out of the door quicker than I shall ever be able to run. And so I remain beneath the covers.
Until it comes crawling back and starts tickling my feet and telling me that if I don't get up I will forever be disappointed in myself. I don't do guilt trips.
So I jump (not enthusiastically I might add) out of bed, rummage for a fresh gym kit, grab the car keys (I'm hardly going to cycle there aswell) and drive blearly eyed to the body morphing palace.
I am one of few early risers. I am the youngest. By 40 years. However, our fitness levels are on par. Really I should feel relaxed. I know that there will be no gym buffs flouncing round, flexing their muscles for us mortals to gawp at. Neither will there be anyone to 'race' on the treadmill.
I get on and set myself to a steady walking pace. No need to jump in at the deep end. ... But then there is this sense of shame. Not only are my feet incased in trainers (a situation that they are less than ecstatic about) but I am exercising at the same speed as geriatrics.
"This shall never do", I think to myself "How will I get fit if I am not challenged?"
So I increase the settings.
And manage 15 minutes before leaving. My face the colour of beetroot and my legs like jelly.
P.S Tom, the emergency stop button on the treadmill? The big red one for emegency stops? It does not work like you said it would. Infact it didn't work at all. Thanks.
Buying fewer shoes?
To be honest, this was never going to work. Shoes are to my feet, what coffee is to my brain. A neccessity.
Only a stupid person would attempt this feat. I think it lasted a week. If that. But the first pair were worth it. As were the second and third. Well after smashing a poorly made resolution, there's no need to hold back.
There was no shame, as perhaps there should have been, in breaking it. The shoes were beautiful and I would just like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the designers at Irregular Choice who have created shoes that make me as happy as my tall skinny extra shot extra hot Macchiato, courtesy of Starbucks.
Other coffee retailers are avaialable and this choice is merely personal preference. Although for the record - it is the best.
I don't think we should mention this one.
I blame shoes.
So of the three resolutions made on January 1st 2011, I've managed to keep one. Well I didn't even manage that one since it is an ongoing endurance test and daily battle.
Perhaps in this modern age where I have abosolutley no will power, I should make the resolution to refrain from making resolutions. And then at least I could relish in the smug satisfaction that even if, like everyone else suffering from the February Blues and a vitamin D deficiency, I didnt have the added self loathing of breaking yet another stupid annual challenge made on a drunken whim.