The “Off and On” Relationship a.k.a. “We are on a break!"

Try as I may, there come days with insuperable circumstances that make it impossible to commit to my running and workout schedule.

Though I knew from the start that taking the evening off from my work schedule and devoting an hour, hour and half was a shakey proposition, but that did not stop me. 

The first of such evenings was testament enough that I had found my soul mate, but the lack of foundation did not deter me. 

Even as I organised the cluttered cupboard of the thoughts and ideas, lap after lap, my growing dependence did not alarm me.

Its been a fortnight since I met the tracks. 

Now, a fortnight later, when every excuse in the book has failed to rationalise, every engagement has overdrawn its validity, every pretence has lost its significance, Here I am, at the very beginning, right where I began.

Lower on the toning, but higher on the wisdom.

Maybe a little embarrassed,

Maybe a little sheepish,

but definitely more confident of the depth of my emotion.

I need this, I really do.

Be it on the treadmill or in a park,

Be it with Runtastic, or for a lark,

Be it in the morning, or after dark,

I need this, I really do.

For the thoughts it helps sort,

For the muscles it keeps taut,

For the love of wine, red and port,

And for the black skirt that’s really short,

I need this, I really do.

The Morning After

It is with a strongly conflicted state of mind that I address this issue.

The subject at hand is a day that is blessed with a solid hour at the gym, where a highly motivated individual (yours truly) has given it all in a high intensity workout (a la HIIT!) targeted at the shoulders and triceps (here’s looking at you Michelle!).

After exhaustive research and custom tailoring a workout that challenges and thus (hopefully), rewards me with sculpted upper body, I decide to rechristen Tuesdays as ‘Shoulder & triceps Day'. Amen.

Post-workout, I glide through the day feeling toned, strong and invincible! I go to bed feeling highly rewarded and extremely hopeful. I dream of flaunting my gains in gorgeous Oscar-worthy couture! Its paradise in my head! A very satisfied gym-er ends the day.

The person who wakes up in that bed is a different story all together. Different and disastrous!

My arms won’t move without pain. My entire body is sore. Everything hurts. Uprighting myself has never been this challenging. Brushing my teeth seems impossible. The idea of coffee is dismissed completely. All I can think of is pain and giving in to the temptation of painkillers. I almost do, except I can barely move! I almost write off ever going to the gym, ever!

And then, somewhere in between feeling sorry for myself and the soothing caress of caffeine, the ache becomes bearable almost likeable. Slowly but surely, it transforms into a sweet and tender reminder of the day before. It changes from regret to affirmation. It signals the beginning of change. 

The start of something new, something beautiful… Namely.. ME!

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! 

"I work out!" -LMFAO

 It happens more often than not , that a social media platform that I had eagerly subscribed to, spouts out a combustible video clip of a workout that seems just perfect (for me). The clip is synced to the most perfect musical accompaniment and showcases an extremely fit and adequately exhausted fitness instructor performing the routine. The entire circuit is snipped to fit the 15 sec time limit but the stop watch clearly shows 5 minutes on the clock. 

This my friend is the illusion, crafted so beautifully and effortlessly that it convinces my brain that I can to this fabulous circuit. No sweat! (pun intended).

 For the next couple of minutes I replay it in my head on a loop, only here, its me doing it. Me, in all my glory. In my head, I am wearing gorgeous sports gear, I have lost all the extra weight, I am very toned, I execute every posture perfectly, I  maintain impeccable form and beautiful balance and every walking lunge that I do is sheer Perfection!

Flash forward to where the rubber meets the road. 

The stage is set, the body is adequately warmed up, the weights are firmly gripped.. it could happen any time now!

The first lunge forward is a little shaky, but with minor correction , I forge forward. A quick check in the right side mirror confirms that my knee is jutting just beyond the toe, no problem, quick adjustment, weight shifts to the other leg and with the dip and a semi-decent closing step, its done.

Then comes lunge number two. Lunge forward, total loss of balance! Who all saw that!? (quick check all around), not  many people paying attention (whew!). The mirror shows that I have it completely wrong and sheepishly I close the step.

Now comes lunge number three.. 

I don’t know if I want to do this, any more. I debate a change in exercise.. lets just stick to squats or maybe the smith machine can assist stationary lunges, or maybe I could get back to it after I have mastered it at home, where I am more confident, maybe something would work as well as lunges, maybe I might end up just hurting myself, 5 minutes for lunges is too much..

This, is where push comes to shove. 

This, is the point where in lies the answer to my biggest question:

What will it take? (for me to get into the shape I want, to drop the extra weight, for me to get fitter and firmer!)

The answer also, lies right beside it.

All it will take… is for me not to give up!

The Non-Athlete

 In these times when appearances are everything, it is a joy to witness the age where the photo-shopped truth has been revealed. It is a relief to know that everyone isn’t picture perfect. The media has been a friend and a guide, serving as an eye-opener showing the unfinished and un-airbrushed behind the scene reality.

 On one hand, this has helped us become more accepting of ourselves, more forgiving of our imperfections, less in denial of our genetics and more tolerant of the hand we were dealt in the looks and body-types department. The reverse tide has been equally strong. Such that it has grown to the proportions of a tsunami of fad -diets, cosmetic treatments, beauty packages, anti-ageing gimmicks, but most importantly, it has created an entire breed of non-athletes.

 In case you aren't already a member of this pride of (lions and) lionesses, we are the average, regular professionals, who have spent the earlier half of our youth collecting degrees and nurturing families and in general , steering clear of any form of physical activity. Now, we have turned over a new leaf. We have embraced a starkly different lifestyle, a new philosophy. We have chosen to reshape our minds and bodies. We have chosen to rediscover youth. We have introduced ourselves to healthy food and an equally healthy dose of exercise.

 There are those who walk amongst us, blessed with the genetics (and years of physical activity) that determine a fit and lithe body that lends itself beautifully to sports and such. These people are the bane of our existence. All of us have that one friend who never gets fat no matter what she eats, that one friend who doesn’t count their glasses of wine. These are the people who we wish we were!

This fit and fab variant of the human race is seen everywhere:

-at the waiting line for the changing room

-at the powder room in the club

- on the dance floor

-the next bar stool

-the office cafeteria

-the beauty salon

-the next treadmill

Even at the checkout at the grocery store!

I am not them.

And that’s alright.

Yep! After a very long period of denial and defeat, I can finally accepted that, its ok!

-I may plump or chubby

-I may need to workout harder

-I may need to do more reps

-I may need to run more kilometers

-I may need to count every calorie

-I may need to refuse dessert more often that not

-I may need to read more about the right workout

-I may need more changes of outfits to feel confident

-I may need to measure every centimetre

-I may need to delete every excuse from my vocabulary

-I may be the non-athlete

-But that’s not going to stop me!