Exercise For Women Over 50
You cannot open a magazine these days without people exalting the value of exercise for women over 50. Before COVID Days I went to the gym twice a week and did Pilates but, since lockdown, my regime has gone to pot, as have any previously toned areas of my torso.
I have several female friends who rise early and bounce up and down with Joe Wicks online before breakfast. They swear that he really sets them up for the day and puts a smile on their faces. I do look at Joe Wicks first thing in the morning, he has a super Instagram page, but the thought of squinting at him on my laptop, whilst trying to keep up with his manic manoeuvres, just leaves me cold. The closest I have got to him was when I flicked through one of his cookery books in Sainsbury’s the other day. Likewise, my wonderful Pilates teacher is Zooming her classes, but there is no way I could adopt the required positions whilst looking at a 3cm digital version of her, without my glasses falling off.
Up And Running
This sorry state of affairs has led me to take up running again. I use ‘running’ in the loosest possible sense of the word. It is more like a brisk walk with exaggerated arm movements. I admit I have taken up running numerous times in the past, and still the only good thing about it is getting back home and collapsing on the kitchen floor. However, I know that a 5K run burns up the exact number of calories in a Double Decker, so at least I can demolish one of my daily bars of chocolate guilt-free. It will also keep me vaguely ‘fit over 50.’
Several years ago, I ran the New York Marathon by accident. I really wanted to go shopping in New York and I knew there was no way Husband would agree to this. I, therefore, stupidly agreed that I would run the Marathon with him, as long as I could have a shopping day there. I staggered round the course in a staggeringly slow 6 hours and 4 minutes but was too knackered to go shopping the next day. When I got home, I told one of my design clients, who was a keen rambler, how long it had taken me. She smugly pointed out that SHE could have walked it faster. I just smiled politely but made sure I chose particularly tasteless cushions to finish off her sitting room.
For Another Day
So, I am back to running 3 times a week and I loathe every second. For the first mile I mutter to myself ‘Why am I doing this? Why the Hell am I doing this??’ After the second mile I cheer up realising that I am over halfway. The third, and final, mile of my route involves running the length of Lingfield High Street and past supermarkets and takeaways where people might see me. For this stage I attempt a Bolt-style sprint which I try to keep up until I can turn into my road and collapse. Then comes the best bit of the run…It is over for another day.
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