Tuesday, April 29, 2003
Let's Get Physical
All right Mr Well-Meaning Fitness Instructor, let's make a few things clear, shall we? Every weekday morning I get up at six, to be in the gym for seven. I go there for my health and to halt the inevitable approach of middle age. But mainly I go there to be certain in the knowledge that, should someone ever have the urge to rip off my tee-shirt in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, then they will not be disappointed.
I do not go to the gym to have some Well-Meaning Fitness Instructor, who I have never seen before in my life, stride all the way from the far side of the Sports Hall, solely to tell me my lateral pull-down technique is one-hundred-per-cent wrong. And probably has been for the last ten years.
Shy, self-conscious flower that I most certainly am, I spent the next ten minutes sure all the sports staff were watching and laughing at me, before finally throwing in the towel and hitting the showers.
Which is why, my dears, I am posting this at 9.25 from work, and getting the grease from my bacon buttie all over the keyboard.