Tag Archives: exercise

I joined the gym and everybody laughed.


Ya, I’m serious. They all LAUGHED. Thanks guys. Just look at the comments:

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With friends like these, who needs enemies! Ha!

Truth is, these friends know me well, my idea of exercise is walking to the fridge, lifting hand to mouth, running after naughty dog when he gets my slipper in his mouth, chasing the ice cream truck down the road… you get the picture.

My lifestyle doesn’t exactly fit in with my husband’s über healthy lifestyle. He, who drinks gallons of water, gets up before the sun to go for a jog, goes to the gym “for fun,” eats Rye bread and drinks all these weird potions from white tubs with pictures of body builders with fake tans.

So now you think I am going to say that I feel inspired, that I want to change my lifestyle, blah, blah, blah. Well no. I went through that, remember. When I  decided to take up running for all of three weeks. So no, I’m not going to go down that road again. I joined the gym as a way to spend more time with my husband. That’s about it. I like to swim, probably the only form of exercise I am particularly fond of, and I’m pretty good at it which helps. By that I mean I don’t make a fool of myself in the pool, whereas on the gym circuit I look like a cross between Mr Bean and  a drunk person. It’s awful to watch, I am sure.

So currently my gym workout looks like this:

1. Model around the gym in my fabulous gym gear provided by my friend Linda. Love these gym clothes with all the secret pockets for your keys, gym card, lip gloss, phone, sweets. Kidding. I only take my phone and gym card.

2. Make conversation at the water cooler with anyone who fancies a natter. This apparently is frowned upon, NO ONE wants to chat at the gym. Why?

3. Stroll on the treadmill. My husband says that I should at least try to make like I’m working out because there are people waiting to use the machinery. Sorry.

4. Laugh at the people in the classes. OH MY WORD. Funniest thing EVERRRR. Shame, not everyone can keep up with the instructor, hey. I may eat these words tomorrow, as I’ve signed up for a Zumba class and I actually have no idea what Zumba is. Sounds like Samba, so I’m imagining some kind of dancing. Party over here, whoop whoop!

5. Do the circuit thingy with my husband. He makes me do “reps” and I’m like we’ve done this already, let’s move onto the next shiny machine please. The only thing I haven’t jumped on yet is that plate machine that shakes all your fat AWAY. And I don’t think I’ll ever get on it unless we’re the only people there. I do not want the whole gym to witness my shaky butt and thighs, thank you very much.

6. Cool down. My favourite part. I sit on the couch and regroup after a hectic workout.

7. Hide my face in absolute embarrassment at the boobs, butts and other weirdly shaped lady bits in the change room. Guys, I am not a prude. I have no issues with nudity in the home. None, whatsoever. I am the mother who changes her children (kalgat) wherever we are, if we need to. No issues. But man, all those naked ladies walking around FREAK me out COMPLETELY. I don’t know what to do with my eyes. And I most definitely do not prance around in my birthday suit like that. This one lady stood at the blow dryer bending forwards and backwards in an effort to create maximum hair volume or whatever and I was HORRIFIED. Here was I, back in high school, as I awkwardly try to get my bra on without exposing any nip ple and there was Brooke Shields AKA Blue Lagoon AKA naked-as-the-day-you-were born, tossing her hair around in all her birthday suit glory. No man.

So that’s my gym experience to date. I have enjoyed swimming with the kids; wish I had started this earlier because I would have endured much less whining as they stare forlornly out the window at our green swimming pool asking “wheeeeeeeen will Winter be over so we can swim?” I also enjoy leaving them at home and spending that time with my husband, this is 2014 people, spending time with your loved one often means incorporating two activities into one because there are only so many hours in the day. Working out together is considered date night for some. Or in our case, one working out while the other goofs around.

Not sure that I’ll be Instagramming at the gym, my husband rolls his eyes when I want to start taking photos. He can’t understand why I have to bring my phone to the gym… AS PROOF THAT I WAS EVER THERE, HELLO.

 

Coming up for air


Hello lovelies 🙂 Feels like a while since I put finger to keyboard. Let’s recap:

  1. I started running. Ok, let’s not call it running just yet, I started exercising on the road – sometimes it’s running, most times it’s speed walking. Or just plain walking. I will post more about this as and when I become better at it. Currently, there’s still a lot of complaining, side pains, panting (which my husband despises, he shouts “BREATHE LIKE I TAUGHT YOU, STOP PANTING!”), embarrassment at what drivers or other runners think of my very strange running style (I watch my shadow and I must honestly say I run like the Hunchback of Notre Dame). I haven’t started to enjoy it yet, apparently this comes? I don’t know hey, feeling my chest burn up like it’s about to explode into bits of blood on the pavement doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy. But the sense of accomplishment after finishing those 3.1kms makes me want to do it again and again and push the 3km boundary. Husband has already sent me a list of possible 5km races I need to be looking into. Woah, slow down Bruce Fordyce, I’m doing this for fun, not for medals. It’s fun running together, even though his barking encouragement as we run makes me want to ninja kick him in the back (we run single file with him in front). ‘YOU’RE DOING GREAT. KEEP IT UP. DEEP IN, SLOW OUT. STOP PANTING. KEEP GOING TO THE LIGHTPOLE. WE’LL WALK AT THE LIGHTPOLE. GO GO GO!” Feels like the army, I won’t lie.
  2. This weekend we’re going down to the coast with my parents and sister and her family. Lekker by die see, ne! So looking forward to it but the BEST part is that the kids are going to stay behind for a week or so with their grandparents and aunt. Can you say home alone?! So looking forward to the adult time and absolutely no apologies about not missing my kids while they are away. I welcome and relish the break, thank you very much.
  3. After a tweet on Twitter, I went in search of an iPad headrest mount for the car and within 24 hours had bought it and had it delivered to  me via bidorbuy.co.za. The service I received from bidorbuy.co.za and particular the seller was outstanding. As techno savvy as I think am, I am still one of those terrified 80’s kids sitting behind my desktop nervously thinking that everyone in my computer is out to get me. Whenever I buy online, I always feel like I’m going to get screwed over – I blame all the online scams and corruption and Trojan Horses for my unnatural fear of the interrrnets. Anyway, it was at such a good price – almost a quarter of the prices I had seen in stores, so I had to take my chances. I attached a note with my purchase asking the seller to please please please contact me as soon as he saw my sale because I needed it delivered before my road trip on Friday, and also to inform them that I was scared that they were going to run off with my money . They called me within minutes, laughed at me for about one minute, confirmed the sale, and promised I’d have my purchase within 24 – 48 hours. When I got to work the next day, my parcel was waiting for me on my desk. This little device has changed car time for us. It’s on a swivel head so both kids can watch comfortably in the backseat and furthermore the silence is indeed golden. So I let them watch this morning on the drive in, and boy did it help with the Morning Blues. Looking most forward to the journey to KZN on Friday – dying to see how long they can actually keep quiet for. Not sure about the tantrums which are sure to ensue when I say it isn’t a permanent fixture in the car; if I allow them to watch constantly we will never speak to each other. Car time after school is generally our catch up time because when we get home, everyone scatters off to their own corner of the house. If you don’t have those portable DVD players and have an iPad already, consider getting this nifty device. Also if you have two kids and only one iPad like I do, I can’t tell you how this device has cut out the who’s-turn-to-hold-the-ipad arguments. It’s there, and you take turns pressing when using the apps and everyone has equal access.

Other than that, it’s been the usual craziness which is our life! Only in colder temperatures. NOT enjoying this sudden cold front, but then I reminded myself that it is the middle of June and I may as well suck it up because we still have at least 11 weeks of icy to go.

Keep warm!

xxx

The Perfect Panty Heist


Remember that time I was going to the gym every day in preparation for the Midmar Mile? Yes that time. Anyway, on this particular day I went to gym as usual, rushed through to the change room and quickly slipped into my swimming costume, grabbed my goggles and swimming cap and speed-walked (sped-walked?) to the swimming pool. I’d go at a very busy time (but the only convenient time for me) and it was a fight to get an empty lane and the worst thing for me was having to share a lane with some stranger. Firstly, because I was so afraid to bash into the person I was sharing with, that I’d spend more time hyperventilating about when our exact paths would cross, and I’d lose focus on my counting and breathing and my mind would be completely frazzled and it would just be a bad swim for me. Secondly, because I didn’t want the other person to beat me; so there I was barely able to breathe properly battling to keep up with a much younger, more toned, obviously more professional swimmer than myself. These dudes had like a million things wrapped around their bodies – don’t ask me what but I figure something monitoring their heart rates, breathing, some fancy underwater music listening device – I don’t know, but these swimmers were professionals ok. And when sharing a lane with a winner, you need to at least make like you can swim. So yes, sharing a lane caused me too much anxiety… but I digress.

So on this day which was rushed as usual due to the above mentioned factors, after swimming my little heart out, I climbed out the pool and walked toward my towel. As I grabbed my towel, a small little piece of black fabric sorta/kinda dropped from my towel, and landed at my feet. Oh no.. that? That? That wasn’t my PANTY was it??

Oh yes it was.

The next few seconds went by very fast. There were only two dudes in the pool, who both happened to have stopped at the wall for a breather. From what I could tell they were not looking at me, or in the least bit interested in me, so a more sensible person would have just picked the broekie up and walked away with head held high. Ja well, I didn’t do that. I wrapped my towel around me and hightailed it out of there so fast – while the colour rose from my neck, probably right to the roots on my scalp. When I got to the change room, I was like “oh that was stupid, what are you? 15 years old” – I messaged my husband because that’s what you do after an embarrassing moment, and he wanted to know which one and when I explained which one, HE WANTED ME TO GO BACK AND FETCH IT because apparently it was his favourite one. I messaged my sister and she had a good laugh. I figure my undies must have gotten tangled up in my towel in my gym bag. And there I was – panty-less at the gym. Well let me tell you if you haven’t done it in a while, that going “commando” is very liberating. You should give it a go sometimes.

Fast forward to the next day.

The pool was  dead quiet – it always is on a Saturday morning. I drop my towel in the usual spot and just to the side of the little wooden benching, is my one and only black number. My first thought was gross, don’t they clean this area every day? But my next thought was ok great, this is my chance to get my panty back. I wasted spent my whole swim conjuring up scenarios on the best way to steal a panty. I kept praying that no one would come and swim and that I could get away with it, without having to worry about people watching me. I had THE worst and probably the best swim of my life because I wasn’t keeping count, I wasn’t focusing on my breathing, I wasn’t even watching the clock – all I was focused on was the Perfect Panty Heist. Hey, I may have swam 5 blinking kilometers without knowing it, so engrossed was I with Project Bringing Sexy(Panty) Back. My plans came crashing down when a little old lady with a floral flower cap and matching swimming costume came toddling over, but I figured her eye sight was bad enough for me to wait until she was at the other end of the pool before making my move.

So I got out the pool, I may or may not have done some weird stretchy movements – you know like warming down after my exercise (I never warm up, let alone warm down?) and made a grab for my wet panty, wrapped it in my towel and casually strolled toward the change room. Sauvé as EVER. I reenacted the series of unfortunate events via BBM to my husband and my sister who replied with lots of LOLs and HAHAHAs and ROTFLs and all those silly BBM emoticons which basically say you’re a loser.

Who said gym was boring? I’m sure they play that security tape back everyday just for laughs. You can best believe I compartmentalized my gym bag thoroughly from that day onwards.

Ps: really, you should totally try that “commando” thing.

Midmar Mile 2013: I chewed you up and spat you out.


The lightening woke me up at 4h15am, before my alarm did. There was a serious storm brewing and this added to my already frayed nerves. We got into the cars – my fan base and I – and left for Midmar Dam at 5h30am. It stormed from Durban to Howick and then miraculously opened up as we approached Midmar. I was relieved; the fear of having done all the training and then not been given the chance to TRY and swim due to the weather, far superseded the fear of at least trying to swim it whether I made it or not. Besides my whole family came out to watch, there was no way I wasn’t getting wet.

We were early enough to get great parking and a good picnic spot and the Port-a-Loos were still in good shape at that time of the morning. I had my two bananas and this drink my husband brewed for me – honestly I think all these endurance and slow energy release sachets that you mix with water are a waste of money, but anyway I drank it, as I had while I was training and let me tell you it does nothing for me. I was a bit nervous, not the same nervous as getting your spinal block before you have a Caesar, I think I was more nervous of the embarrassment of being fished out and taken to the other side on a boat, rather than swimming there!

The part that made me giggle was having to waltz around in my swimming costume ONLY. I’m the kind of girl who likes the safety of my towel around my waist, until I am ready to actually swim or tan. But I was surrounded by costume-clad bodies – in ALL shapes, sizes and colours and when in Rome, you do as the Romans do of course, so I pranced around oblivious to my jelly thighs and cellulite.

So I caught a shuttle from the one side of the dam to the starting side and took my place in my holding pen and the atmosphere was great. All the ladies were chatting and laughing and the general air of excitement was tangible. There were some very little people, they could have been six or seven years old and there was some old people who looked way over 70! I was an unseeded swimmer so I was right at the back with the white caps. In a way this was good because this was the no-rush crowd, most of us were doing it for fun and not to win so everyone was easy going. However I know now that the secret is to get away from the crowd as fast as possible, once in the water.

The mile seems A LOT longer in the open water, than it does in the swimming pool. Firstly, there’s people kicking you in the face, grabbing your feet from behind and sometimes almost pushing you under. Secondly, the water is obviously more choppy due to the hordes of people kicking and splashing and this adversely affects your swim. Thirdly, there’s no wall to grab on to when you feel like you just need a minute to catch your breath and you can’t stop halfway to adjust your goggles or pull your swimming costume out of your bum. My first struggle was trying to find my own space – I mean you would think in a massive dam, it would be easy to find a spot and swim your heart out. Not. My second struggle was actually swimming straight, I swear I swam about 2kms with all the zigzagging and blind swimming I was doing. I don’t swim breaststroke and swimming freestyle with your head facing forward is difficult. So every time I did lift my head, I was off course and had to readjust. My third struggle was other swimmers – every time I found my groove and got into a nice breathing rhythm and found that my arms, legs and lungs were all cooperating, I’d swim into someone or someone would swim into me, and I’d have to stop, regroup, and start over. Lastly, my greatest struggle was in my mind. You KNOW your body can physically do it – I’ve been swimming a mile a day for two months – there’s no way I wasn’t physically ready. But boy I felt like giving up more than once. I kept looking back to see how far I had swum because it just didn’t look like I was getting any closer to the finish. And every time someone swam horizontally pass me to get to the lifeguard boat, I thought yes that’s all I have to do. But I kept thinking of all those people waiting for me at the finish, I kept thinking that I COULD NOT BLOG about how I was pulled out of the water! I’d have to say that embarrassment of failure kept me swimming. Ha. When I could finally see PEOPLE dotted on the horizon and smell the boerewors on the braai, I started to see the light again. I swam as far out to the sidelines as I could, and just swam like my life depended on it – which it did because I was exhausted! I finished my race in just under 45 minutes, but that was the last thing I was concerned about, I grabbed my medal and ran… ok, hobbled past the finish line.

I felt awesome at the finish, proud as punch. And it really did feel like it was all worth it. I’ll be doing the race every year for as long as I am able to. I think what I’ve learned from this experience is that I do limit myself in many areas of my life. I’ve always said I am a realist and try not to look at the world through rose tinted glasses, but what I’ve realized is that my realism often harbours my potential and subconsciously I’m always looking at the glass half empty and crediting it to “being realistic.” I’m going to start putting myself out there more often and see just how far I can go. My husband wants me to start jogging with him. I use the word jogging very loosely – I picture myself walking at snail’s pace (there I go again – forgive me). I said to him that if he kits me out with decent shoes and snazzy sweat bands for each of my wrists, I will consider his offer.

I must just make mention of what a well run event it was. From online registration, down to collecting your medal at the end, everything ran seamlessly and without drama. Just the way I like things done. The kids had an awesome day out, we picnicked on the banks of the dam afterwards and besides the race itself, it does make for a really good day out. The Midmar Mile will definitely  see me again next year! I did it! Yay me!

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Me and Hannah Banana relaxing after the Mile
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My cap and medal!

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My name in the paper. Feels like matric all over again.

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There I am at the finish!

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No, it’s not made of gold. *sad face*

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Well done kisses!

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Proud as Punch!