How (not) to finish a Fitness Challenge

I fear I am a great disappointment to the Instructor Ladies at my gym. In fact, given the sad, puppy dog eyes that greet my appearance there these days, I'm suspecting that my fears are well-placed. Shall we just put it out there, right up front, and confirm that my six-week Fitness Challenge has been an unmitigated disaster. I have several very impressive and ever-ready excuses - book edits, renovations, illness, blah, blah, blah - but I don't blame you for not listening. I'm not even listening any more.

The fact is that I wanted to get fit simply by signing up to the Fitness Challenge. As if simply putting my indecipherable John Hancock on the bottom line would be enough to decrease the size of my bottom. Apparently this is not how things work. Disappointing that.

I have one more week to go. The Instructor Ladies - and they are so very nice, I really want to please them - are expecting Great Things. They actually told me that after I left the other day, blaming PMT for my body's obstinate refusal to lose so much as one single centimetre. And they wouldn't pull that tape measure tighter, just to cheat a little millimetre or two, no matter how much I asked. So. Great Things.

I'm wondering if what I need is a new approach. A post-renovations, post-edits, post-PMT kind of approach. I heard about this great new initiative from The Black Dog Institute today. It's called Spring, it costs $30 and you get 30 days of training plans, fitness tips, motivational emails... and it's all designed to focus on lifting your mood. I think my mood is about the only thing I'm capable of lifting right now, so this could be the perfect solution.

And at least I can be secure in the knowledge that even if I follow my usual pattern and do nothing useful regarding getting fit, somebody will benefit from my $30 investment because the money raised goes to The Black Dog Institute, to fund their fabulous work with mental health and mood disorders.

Knowing that makes me feel better already.

[image: awesomepictures.me]

How (not) to start a Fitness Challenge

My laissez-faire relationship with the gym continues. I'm still going. Twice a week, most weeks (though school holidays proved a challenge). And, according to my 'measurements', it's making a difference. One centimetre smaller here, two centimetres down there. The scales, however, have not shifted. Not one bit.

I know that scales are not the be-all and end-all. We are more than what we weigh. But, jeez Louise, it's hard to stay motivated when nothing at all is going on down there. 

So, having decided that I must be going horribly wrong on the eating front, I signed up for a six-week Fitness Challenge. I was weighed and measured all over again. I was despatched home with a box of protein bars (er, cardboard anyone?) and a pile of literature, including food diaries, recipes, fabulously inspiring 'real stories'.  I was powered up. Ready to go.

And then I went to Sydney and ate my body weight in pizza and polenta battens with gorgonzola sauce (I'm sorry, but Oh. My. God). Washed down with a river of red wine. Followed by Saturday night out as well. Another day, another river of red wine. Then the football on Sunday. Billabongs and chips. 

Let's just say I'm not off to a flying start. 

I'm looking on the bright side. The only way to go from here is up, right? Which will hopefully lead to a little 'down' movement on the scales. 

Six weeks. It's all possible.

[image: tumbler.com]

How (not) to exercise

Today I caved in and joined a gym. Despite my last post on this subject. Despite my vows to walk and cycle, because I like exercising under my own steam, in my own time, outside.

At the end of the day, I wasn't doing those things. Oh sure, I walk. Several times a week. Have been doing so for years. But it's just not working like it was. I've got fitness and fatness issues. I'm not fit and I'm putting on weight. Which would be fine if I was happy with that. But I'm not.

So today I caved in and joined a gym.

And then... I didn't exercise.

That walk I usually enjoy on Mondays? I didn't attempt that walk. Because I've joined a gym. And somehow that was enough for one day.

Houston, I think we have a problem.

{image: Found In Mom's Basement}

So then I almost joined the gym...

For one brief moment today, I considered entering a gym. Taking the 'newbie' tour. Nodding with feigned interest at the dazzling array of machinery designed to tone various parts of a person's anatomy. Listening with feigned enthusiasm at the idea of one free session with a personal trainer who would pinch my Tuckshop arms, shake her head at my inability to touch my toes, draw in a sharp breath as I stood on the scales. Sidling around so that I didn't catch sight of myself in the mirror.

For one moment.

It's October. I've realised that soon I need to step onto the sands of the south coast's glorious beaches in a swimsuit. A fake tan and a bikini wax are not going to cut it as far as making me beach-babe ready. My 'winter coat' cannot be shed with a simple unbuttoning or a sexy zip. It's going to take work.

For that brief moment, I thought maybe I needed to try the gym again. Back in the day, I was a gym girl. Four times a week. Personal trainer. The lot. But I've got to tell you, I had a lot more time on my hands. I was happy to spend an hour here or there in a fluoro-lit room surrounded by other people's sweat.

Now, not so much.

I thought about what I'd be doing at the gym. Stationary cycle. Treadmill. Weights. I would rather be on my bike, or walking the streets. Strength training is important though, and it's almost enough to get me in the door, pen poised over a contract. But no.

Not today.

Are you a member of a gym? Do you go because you love it or because you have to go?


{image: via Marquette}