that gym thing

Have never really been a gym person. Severely put off by those serried ranks of peculiar machines; and the whole artificiality of running on the spot and using headphones to block out what little external stimuli there is in a gym - when there is whole wide world to enjoy outside, full of the unexpected incidents you get in the company of real people going about their everyday lives.

In Sydney this seems pushed to an extreme; exercise is nothing if you don't work yourself to the absolute limit. There were a couple on the beach yesterday dragging huge weights on ropes strapped to their chests backwards and forwards across the sand, like some kind of ancient Roman prisoners-of-war, whilst their personal trainer idly texted his friends on his phone. And when I attempted a gym class two weeks ago, billing itself as a pilates-yoga-taichi mix, we plummeted nonstop from one heavyweight move to another - "going all the way" - in time to very loud disco music ( tai chi - disco, who would have thought it?)

But have finally stumbled on the perfect class. It is twice a week for old codgers - the over 50s. We do serious interval training, but combined with idle chat and a lot of laughing; a recognition of both the absurdity and necessity of getting fit as your body begins to get grumpy and uncooperative.



I have just remembered. I also used to hate 'quiet and slow' activities. I thought yoga and tai chi were for wimps, and threw myself around the squash court instead.