Oh, a gym.
Now I remember.
After nine years away I have rejoined the gym.
I have no excuses now.
The gym is sort of down the road from me. So I can’t blame the tyranny of distance.
The gym has a creche. Which the kids are in love with. So I can’t blame the kids.
The question of affording it? Well, it’s quite possible that I could easily (and sometimes do) spend more than the weekly fee on books online. Books that I do not have time to read.
Which brings me to the time factor. Truthfully, if I wait until I have enough spare time*, I’m never going to get fit. I can make time for this. I can schedule it in. I am making time for me.
It seems strange that something that is kind of a chore, something that is not on my usual list of things I’d like to be doing, something that in all likelihood is going to hurt, seems like an indulgence. And something that is carrying with it it’s fair share of guilt.
Why guilt, well of course because the money I’m spending to go there, and the time I’m spending there shouldn’t I be spending it on/with the children?
But really, it’s an investment for them as well, because not only do they get some social time in the creche, but hopefully this results in a fitter, happier mummy who can kick the ball and run around for more than 5 minutes before becoming just a spectator. That’s my justification.
But why should I have to justify it? I shouldn’t, right?
I am doing this for me. I am going to love every minute on that treadmill, listening to my playlist (sorry Justine Clark, you didn’t make the cut) and letting my mind wander, and just being me for a little while.
And of course cursing it out the next day when I am just so freaking sore. Nine years? It’s a long time between leg curls.— *Seriously – Spare Time? What is this concept people speak of? I vaguely recall it along with the concept of 8 hours straight sleep, privacy in the bathroom, and ‘rage’ on Saturday mornings instead of the ‘Octonauts’ and their other ABC4kids counterparts.