Getting Nowhere Fast

I braved the gym last night. This isn't something I do very often.

On a whim one sunny winter day last year I joined my local gym. I paid right up for twelve whole months. I somehow managed to not cry when I saw how much they charged per month. For the first three weeks I think I went six or seven times. Not bad, eh? For someone who had shunned excercise since PE at schooll. I wouldn't say I enjoyed the experience of excercising in public those first few times, but I dealt with it the best way I knew how. Didn't think about it. Just went through the motions of actually getting myself to a machine and then using it and then getting off it and then finding another one and then using that and so on and so on until I'd been there a hour and it was time to go home.

I felt quite a lot of pain those first few weeks. Thigh ache was probably the worst. Sitting down became no easy task.

So anyway, three weeks of regular excercise and I decided to give myself a break. That break only ended last night. Nearly a whole year of not going to the gym, despite paying for the privlidge every month. Money to burn, you think? Alas, no. At the time of signing away my money for a whole year I told myself repeatedly the gym was a luxery and I should think of it as such and make sure I got my monies worth. But did I fuck. I sat at home eating crisps and watching Big Brother instead.

Then last night I went, and I kind of enjoyed it. Feeling the burn...it was good.

And now the question is, do I sign up for another twelve months? I get a 10% discount this time! But then there's crisps and Big Brother, man......

Poxy pissing New Year. Making me feel almost duty bound to better myself in some way *this* year. Because, of course, this will be The Year I sort myself out. It would have been last year, but, you know, stuff got in the way.