Continuing to be Tedious

As the title suggests, I will bang on about fitness stuff again. This is my second week of completed gym sessions and my last with my Personal Trainer (PT) for four weeks. Of all of the decisions I've made recently, this is the one I am exceptionally pleased about. Or should I say a doubly good one?

The gym is brilliant. I love it's shabbiness. It's functional only; with an emphasis on weights and strength training. There are nods to cardio and floor work in the back with a handful of machines, but that's pretty much it. You want shiny machines, tvs to watch, magazines to read? You're in the wrong place. 

My PT is fantastic. The programme he developed for me is perfect in that it's challenging, addresses my weakness and builds on my strengths. In the past two weeks I've seen some brilliant improvements. Mind you, I look on every extra rep, every added 0.25kg as a brilliant improvement. 

Working out at home to the DVDs did exactly what I hoped they'd do: they built my confidence and brought up my fitness level to the point where I felt comfortable taking it further. What they couldn't do was correct my form. I knew I wanted to increase the weights, but I wasn't happy doing so without a better idea of form. I am doing everything possible to avoid injury. I felt if I went out and bought heavier weights I would be at risk. Perhaps I was a bit overly-cautious, but I would rather take it more slowly and anchor in the fitness habit properly so I continue to feel excited and motivated about exercising.

What I wasn't prepared for was the increase in my appetite. I'd heard about the need for protein after a workout, but mostly dismissed that as just manly men hype....until at 10.30am on Monday I would have killed for a whole roasted chicken. On Wednesday, I had a funny turn and it was suggested I really need to eat before my workout. I have no wish to throw up on the gym floor. That would just be embarrassing. It was good advice because this morning I had my mid-morning smoothie first thing instead and no wobblies. Please don't laugh, but I'm looking into protein shakes to boost my mid-morning smoothie to deal with the sudden carnivorous urges. 

Next week, I start Gym/Run/Rest rotations. I'm really excited about getting back out there to pound the pavement. I've missed the running. Again, deciding not to run while I got to grips with the new strength routine was a good one. I am grudgingly following Dave's advice to start with this routine rather than go straight into running and gym on alternate days with a rest on Sundays.

Last blog post, I talked about the added extra of confidence I've gained by doing the strength training. During the weekend, I realised something else.

The last 6 months have been the most consistently stressful, and in parts, distressing period of time I've experienced pretty much since my dad died nearly four years ago. In this time, I have gone from working out irregularly to working out pretty much 3-4 times a week, if not 5-6 times some weeks. This year, I started running, then joined a gym and started lifting weights. My working hours have increased to the point where it's rare that I leave the office before 6pm; my workload has multiplied like bunny rabbits on viagra and I've gone to anyone who would listen and demanded more responsibility. I haven't taken many sick days at all, despite the winter bugs and more importantly, and this is the point of it all - I am not depressed. 

I am not dragging my arse behind me trying to get things done at home or at work. I am out of bed in the mornings and after an hour of Pink Fluffy Dressing Gown, coffee and Facebook, I am out of my chair doing stuff. On my days off, I don't nap in the afternoon any more as standard. When I come home in the evenings, I'm still doing what needs to be done. My housework is no longer a chore I have to work up to. Don't get me wrong, I'm still knackered, but gone are the days when I'd crawl through the door and have a microwave meal because it was the only thing I could manage to do.

This is quite a scary revelation for me. For the past 43 years, I thought I had problems with my energy levels, problems with mental health. It turns out there's nothing wrong with my energy levels or my mental health - I just wasn't fit enough to live. 

All this time wasted.

Well, not much can be done about the past and dwelling on that isn't going to help me continue to move forward well. For the next 43 years, I now know the key to feeling good and doing more is about focusing on keeping fit and being well in myself. The more I move, the better I feel, the more I do. I am the kind of person who totally digs on the concept of 'more', so I'm going to stick with this and see where it leads.