At last the fog of the cold has lifted and with it, my mood. I am still a bit yucky but over the worst of it (says she in a dramatic, man-flu fashion). As I discussed in my last post, I made a special effort to go out dancing on Saturday night, and boy, I’m glad I did. It was a fundraiser for Teenage Cancer Trust; a mod night, with live bands and a DJ. Mod night = northern soul and ska and if any music was designed to get your feet a-shufflin’ and your hips a-swinging, it is this. Land of 1,000 dances anyone?
Best of all, it was full of people d’un certain age. Those of us fast approaching middle age appreciate a club night without too many young ‘uns. The music is better and we don’t feel like parents supervising the school disco. And while we don’t quite have the athleticism of our youth, we do still know how to kick it up on the dancefloor. There wasn’t much of this going on:
But there was plenty of grooving and we were all the better for it. At the end of the night, there were only a handful of us still shaking our thang, while the bar staff cleared the tables and swept the floors all around us. Including the DJ, who kept going into the booth to put a record on, then running out onto the dance floor to join us. A top night that makes me smile just thinking about it. What else can you ask for? Maybe just a cute photo of dancing that reminds us it’s so vital to the human experience:
So, the week begins on a better footing than last. And I feel motivated to get exercising again. Today was to be the start of my new plan to cope without the gym.
The plan was slightly foiled by an interruption from the wee fellow in the middle of the night and it took a while to get back to sleep. So long, that I was still deep in dreamland when the alarm went off. I feckin hate that, so snooze it was, thus depriving me of my early morning slot with Kevin the Kettlebell. Oops. Epic fail on day one. As punishment, I made a point of walking up the stairs at work three times…three times. My legs had a disturbing wobble near the top of the first climb but I soldiered on and it did get better.
At lunchtime, I went for a half hour meditation at the Buddhist centre. They run every day during the week and there is something calming about going there in the middle of the day. The monk running the session was very happy and smiling: a laughing Buddha. To be honest, it was so relaxing I almost dozed off, only jolting myself alert with one of those dribbly snores you get from snoozing sitting up, but hopefully no-one noticed. I won’t go every day, but I intend to go a couple of times a week if I can, until I get the knack of doing it by myself. Back in the office this afternoon, I felt more focused, less stressed and less inclined to worry about the first day failure. Instead I just made a plan for the rest of the week.
Tomorrow lunchtime will involve the slightly less zen activity of a kettlebell class. Forty minutes of kettlebells will probably be torture but worth it for the feeling of accomplishment.
Wednesday, I hope to go to the 6.30am zombie class with a friend at her gym, but this may be ambitious given that I am catching up with another friend for a bite to eat the night before, at an establishment known for its rum cocktails. If not, Jillian may be the answer at a more civilised time in the morning; level two of the Shred always hurts. Thursday, I am meeting some Clan buddies after work in the council gym, to lift some heavy sit, which is much needed. And we have safety in numbers! At some point I am going to have to test the waters and get out running again, but the weather is so awful, I can’t bear the thought of it. A slow plod at the weekend is possible if the sun shines.
What have I learned from this week of misery? Firstly, there must always be time for dancing. And laughing. And strawberry Russians (strawberry liqueur, vodka and milk – why, it’s practically a health drink). Also being rested is a good thing. I might want to die after the kettlebell class tomorrow, but I will not be starting from scratch. Trying to work out when mentally and physically drained might work for some, but not for me. Believing that you can do something is half the battle.
Seeing as it’s his birthday today, I’ll leave the last word to Dr Seuss:
Until next time,