I have now accepted that the foot is taking ever longer to get better and decided to regularly attend classes in attempt to stave off the boredom of just pumpung iron (!) in the gym and swimming lengths in the pool.
Monday saw me at a pilates class. I bumped into a fellow runner and ex-work colleague who remarked that all runners end up at pilates and, as fit as we may feel, pilates really sorts out the men from the boys - very true. The class was tough. The teacher is very probably in her sixties, fit, toned and relentless. I left after an hour of pulling, pushing and stretching, tired but elongated and happy.
Tuesday I decided to return to aqua fit hell. The third teacher in as many weeks put us through paces that I didn't even know I had. She reminded me of Tigger on a particularly bouncy day and had us pool running and scissor-legging our way through 3/4s of an hour of particularly hard work out.
Thursday I was back. Thinking that it couldn't have been quite as hard as I had remembered, I thought I would put in a 3/4 hour workout and swim a mile before starting work. A demented Tigger on a VERY bouncy day again had us pool-running and working out to the point of collapse (or was that just me). I managed a few lengths of the pool afterwards but only enough to prove that I could.
I can honestly say that I am so over my disdain for myself at having to stop running and start aqua fit. By Friday I could only just drag my sorry arse to the gym and today (Sunday) I am only just getting over the aches from a weeks hard class attending.
These workouts may look easy but that is the last word I would ever use to describe them. Core strengthened, water resisted and shame faced I may be but I will never look at classes the same way.
And I might even learn to enjoy them.
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