Along with 24 other much younger women (nay, in fact, mere babes in all senses of the word) we are the FIT chicks. Females in Training. Now a few months down of turning out in all weathers ( I’m assured wind, rain and snow won’t stop us) I’m still not sure if it's working. My arms are still wobbling a bit when I wave, it still hurts every time I come home and my clothes are just as tight as at the beginning, but I go anyway. At least now my thighs don’t scream in protest every time I sit on the toilet from all the lunges I’ve done and if you say 'mountain climbers' I will no longer look for my walking boots.
Am I getting fit? I don’t know. We are shouted at by our leader as we change from each station with only seconds to rest but it is inspiring watching her demonstrate the exercises with casual expertise. Perhaps I just need to go longer for something to work? Maybe I need to step up my game, stop the tennis and join her running group and I will get a butt like hers; pert with not one dimple in sight? I don't know, I'm just hanging in there with blind faith that it must be better for me than slobbing on the sofa. I said better, not more pleasurable. Meanwhile, think of me on a Wednesday evening. Pray that the weather is kind to us and I will continue to lie on my back, on the tarmac, in the dodgy car park perfecting my cycle sit-ups and wishing on the stars.
Teresa x