independent

Monday 21 October 2019

My foray into High Intensity fitness training was a shock to the system

Justine O'Mahony

The quest to lose a few pounds continues. I have tried everything without much success. Well, when I say I have tried everything, I haven't stopped eating, which might be a step in the right direction. I have also stopped short of wiring my mouth shut. I'm beginning to think that may be the only option left open to me.

In desperation I joined a HIIT class. For the uninitiated, HIIT stands for High Intensity Interval Training. Or in other words-torture! But torture that I'm assured works to make you toned and fit etc etc etc.

The instructor has a body to die for. She tells me I too can have a body like hers. In my heart of hearts I know this is more than doubtful. I didn't have a body like hers when I was 20 but you know, one has to hope. She says she'll go easy on me for the first few sessions and so I sign up for 8 weeks.

I look a little shook the first morning so I throw a bit of make up on, much to the amusement of my instructor. After 5 minutes I realise why she found it so funny. The sweat was pouring down my face along with the foundation and mascara!

She gets us to jog laps around the gym. I'm so busy looking at the state of myself in the mirrors that I'm not aware of what's going on around me and suddenly I notice I'm in the lead. 'Jesus I'm in front!' I say looking behind me and picking up pace. 'Eh no, you're not. We just lapped you,' says a leggy blonde with a swishy pony tail. Oh the shame!

I am given special exercises because I can't do the jumping squat things or burpees or mountain climbers but the teacher tells me Rome wasn't built in a day. By the end of the class I am a sweaty mess lying in a heap on my exercise mat.

'Don't you feel great now?' she says to me patting me on the back. To be honest I feel like bloody death but I don't want to hurt her feelings so I just nod in agreement. 'I'm going home to have lots of tea and toast' I tell her.

'No!' she shrieks. 'You can't do that! That's the worst thing you can do. White Bread!! Oh. My. God!' White Bread is the devil apparently. I'm told to eat protein - have a banana or omelette or porridge. But I want tea and toast. I compromise and have brown bread with loads of butter and a good sweet cup of tea.

The next day I am so sore that I whimper getting out of bed. I am IN BITS. I observe myself in the mirror hoping that by some miracle I have developed abs overnight. I haven't. I'd murder a sausage sandwich. But no. My body is a temple and I have a little black dress to get into that currently only zips half way up.

It may be wise to give me a wide berth for a few weeks!

Gorey Guardian

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