I'm just back from the gym and for the first time in 5 weeks I was in tears in a class because I'd overdone it and my hip hurt and I hate that it is still controlling my limits after 2 years.
It was my own fault. So far in my gym classes I've been quite wary of anything that *might* hurt, ie. star jumps, running etc. Today for some reason I thought "well I've got to try it sometime" and for a bit it was ok, but then it all went wrong.
I've taken two steps forward over the last month, I guess this was my one step back.. time to back off a bit again.
But if we never push ourselves to our limits, how do we find out what our limits are....?
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 June 2012
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
Water splashing
The term "Aquaerobics" has always prompted the vision of middle-aged, overweight women, floundering around in the pool while Mr H and I pounded in the gym upstairs. Poor, sad women who couldn't do real exercise, losers huh?
Well not any more.
I don't like the gym any more - it doesn't help that the local one is a miserable little box which is always too crowded (I'm not going to start driving 5 miles to a larger gym when there is one within walking distance). All it shows on TV is Beyonce strutting her booty, or some X-factor band I've never heard of. I know a lot of women hate going to the gym because they are body-conscious compared with the seasoned pros that go, but that has never bothered me - I'm happy looking like a woman! No, I just got bored with it.
So, having decided that I need more exercise, last night I went to aquaerobics. It was full of middle-aged, overweight women which probably now includes me, and one man. So much for no exercise, it was hard work with an enthusiastic instructor urging us to go faster, while not taking into account the water working against us! I really threw myself into it knowing that I wasn't going to damage my leg or get sweaty, not with water splashing over me from my own and my neighbours flailing arms...
I came out of the pool with that slightly weak feeling of post-exertion, but with a smile on my face.
If that makes me a loser, then so be it!
Well not any more.
I don't like the gym any more - it doesn't help that the local one is a miserable little box which is always too crowded (I'm not going to start driving 5 miles to a larger gym when there is one within walking distance). All it shows on TV is Beyonce strutting her booty, or some X-factor band I've never heard of. I know a lot of women hate going to the gym because they are body-conscious compared with the seasoned pros that go, but that has never bothered me - I'm happy looking like a woman! No, I just got bored with it.
So, having decided that I need more exercise, last night I went to aquaerobics. It was full of middle-aged, overweight women which probably now includes me, and one man. So much for no exercise, it was hard work with an enthusiastic instructor urging us to go faster, while not taking into account the water working against us! I really threw myself into it knowing that I wasn't going to damage my leg or get sweaty, not with water splashing over me from my own and my neighbours flailing arms...
I came out of the pool with that slightly weak feeling of post-exertion, but with a smile on my face.
If that makes me a loser, then so be it!
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
Contentment
When I got home today some new sports shorts were waiting for me (eBay bargain, naturellement), they are just chuck-on for bumming around but designed for running which I thought would be useful later. Anyway I tried them on, stood in front of the mirror and thought "I feel fat".
Oh well yes - what woman doesn't do that occasionally, whatever size she may be? But in the next split second I thought "But so what.". I know that at certain times I feel more fat/bloated/ugh than at others, all for the same poundage.
And I'm content.
Which means more to me than worrying about excess curves (is there such a thing?). I don't want to get on the (metaphorical) treadmill of forever striving to be however many inches / kg lighter. Interestingly, I converted from knowing my weight in lbs/stone to kg when I started going to the gym many years ago. Now I hate the gym but am forever converted to kg; but measurements still have to be in feet/inches. And in the States isn't it lbs and metres/centimetres? how fickle we humans are.
So, getting back to the excess curves, it's not that I want to get any bigger, definitely not. Out of the females in my family I am still 'the slim one' but there is always the reminder it could all go wrong. But I'm a healthy weight and as long as I'm maintaining that, or if I lose a bit Just Because, that's fine. At least I know I'm getting exercise and I eat healthily - the calories aren't coming from alchohol and kebabs.
And I'm content.
If a physiotherapist ever tells me to go the gym, I will say No. I used to enjoy it and know how satisfying the effects can be, but now I have developed a loathing for it. All sweat and no pleasure (ignoring the exercise endorphins). I'd rather get my exercise and strength from gardening, walking or cycling, or sailing once I get back into that, the view is so much better. Not that I have anything against people who choose to go to the gym - each to their own, live and let live - and for some it is a choice of that or pounding city streets. Not everyone has the countryside or garden that I am fortunate enough to enjoy on the doorstep.
So I ignored the fat-feeling, made a cup of tea and came out into the garden to write this and decide whether to mow the lawn this evening or wait until Thursday.
And I'm content.
Oh well yes - what woman doesn't do that occasionally, whatever size she may be? But in the next split second I thought "But so what.". I know that at certain times I feel more fat/bloated/ugh than at others, all for the same poundage.
And I'm content.
Which means more to me than worrying about excess curves (is there such a thing?). I don't want to get on the (metaphorical) treadmill of forever striving to be however many inches / kg lighter. Interestingly, I converted from knowing my weight in lbs/stone to kg when I started going to the gym many years ago. Now I hate the gym but am forever converted to kg; but measurements still have to be in feet/inches. And in the States isn't it lbs and metres/centimetres? how fickle we humans are.
So, getting back to the excess curves, it's not that I want to get any bigger, definitely not. Out of the females in my family I am still 'the slim one' but there is always the reminder it could all go wrong. But I'm a healthy weight and as long as I'm maintaining that, or if I lose a bit Just Because, that's fine. At least I know I'm getting exercise and I eat healthily - the calories aren't coming from alchohol and kebabs.
And I'm content.
If a physiotherapist ever tells me to go the gym, I will say No. I used to enjoy it and know how satisfying the effects can be, but now I have developed a loathing for it. All sweat and no pleasure (ignoring the exercise endorphins). I'd rather get my exercise and strength from gardening, walking or cycling, or sailing once I get back into that, the view is so much better. Not that I have anything against people who choose to go to the gym - each to their own, live and let live - and for some it is a choice of that or pounding city streets. Not everyone has the countryside or garden that I am fortunate enough to enjoy on the doorstep.
So I ignored the fat-feeling, made a cup of tea and came out into the garden to write this and decide whether to mow the lawn this evening or wait until Thursday.
And I'm content.
Saturday, 1 January 2011
New Year and the F-It Revolution
At work we name files with a date code which is year-month-day ie. today would be 110101; which makes today a binary day, nice and neat.
I have a journal which I write in periodically, not every day. In the past I have kept diaries which I have written every day, until I learned that it was a lot more healthy to talk to people about how I was feeling instead of bottling it up. So now I just write occasionally when I have something I want a record of, or feel strongly about. This morning I wrote "It's January 1st, I know I'm supposed to write something meaningful in my journal. F** it, I'm not going to." I feel that this is a portentious for the year ahead.
You will see from my side bar that I am currently reading a book called "f**k it : the ultimate spiritual way" which I borrowed from a counsellor friend. In essence it is a book about acceptance. Of ourselves, of our friends, of those things we cannot change. Nothing new there of course, but this book is a) written by a British person eg. not American and b) amusing whilst making you think "You know what? you're absolutely right!". Despite the title, it isn't an offensive book, he just chose that phrase because it encompasses so many things; in fact he is the Son of a Preacher Man (cue Dusty Springfield).
One of the epiphanies he relates was while on the step machine at the gym, looking around him at all the people pretending to row, or run, or climb mountains, or chop logs, or start a lawn-mower, while staring at MTV to take their minds off the ridiculousness of it all. He says he just pressed the Stop button, got off the machine, had the best shower of his life, never went back to the gym and got a life instead.
I have done the gym thing in the past (and I have to admit it did cure my bad knee) but it is really a ridiculous pastime for those of us who live in a rural area, when you think about it. Fair enough if you live in the city and have no gardening to do or wood to cut or woods and fields to walk/run around - but if you live anywhere that it's possible, get out there in the fresh air and get your exercise naturally, and FREE!
I am naming this new philosophy the F-It Revolution.
I have a journal which I write in periodically, not every day. In the past I have kept diaries which I have written every day, until I learned that it was a lot more healthy to talk to people about how I was feeling instead of bottling it up. So now I just write occasionally when I have something I want a record of, or feel strongly about. This morning I wrote "It's January 1st, I know I'm supposed to write something meaningful in my journal. F** it, I'm not going to." I feel that this is a portentious for the year ahead.
You will see from my side bar that I am currently reading a book called "f**k it : the ultimate spiritual way" which I borrowed from a counsellor friend. In essence it is a book about acceptance. Of ourselves, of our friends, of those things we cannot change. Nothing new there of course, but this book is a) written by a British person eg. not American and b) amusing whilst making you think "You know what? you're absolutely right!". Despite the title, it isn't an offensive book, he just chose that phrase because it encompasses so many things; in fact he is the Son of a Preacher Man (cue Dusty Springfield).
One of the epiphanies he relates was while on the step machine at the gym, looking around him at all the people pretending to row, or run, or climb mountains, or chop logs, or start a lawn-mower, while staring at MTV to take their minds off the ridiculousness of it all. He says he just pressed the Stop button, got off the machine, had the best shower of his life, never went back to the gym and got a life instead.
I have done the gym thing in the past (and I have to admit it did cure my bad knee) but it is really a ridiculous pastime for those of us who live in a rural area, when you think about it. Fair enough if you live in the city and have no gardening to do or wood to cut or woods and fields to walk/run around - but if you live anywhere that it's possible, get out there in the fresh air and get your exercise naturally, and FREE!
I am naming this new philosophy the F-It Revolution.
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