YOBO: You only breathe once

Usually, 9pm on a wet, cold, dark November night does not find me awake. Like most people of sound mind, I would be wrapped up warmly in think blankets, dreaming that the approaching early morning alarm would be cancelled by a snow day.

But as it is getting ever harder to find suitable sports for my blog - sports which involve no effort, inconvenience, and ideally involve watching TV - I had to learn that beggars can't be choosers.  And so when Ken from the Ipswich Octopush Club explained that training would be on Monday, 09:15 - 10:15pm at Crown Pool, I simply had to bite the bullet. After all, how many other sports could compete with underwater hockey on my alphabet of sports?

My best husband was his usual supportive self when I asked him to drop me off at the pool to avoid the 10 step walk from the car park to the front door. Inside, I was warmly greeted by Nathan, who kindly denied that he'd recognised me by the "deer in the headlights" expression I was sporting for the occasion. 

Minutes later I found myself sitting shivering by the poolside, realising that this time I might truly have outdone my own extemporaneousness (I googled that). I did know that it would involve water, hockey and fins. 

But at no point did anybody warn me that it would involve this type of hat:

THAT is the face of one who has just realised that she truly has no clue of what is about to happen.  Also one who should have guessed that underwater hockey might involve, well under water. Up to that point, I assumed that we'd all be swimming around in our fins with long sticks to push along a puck in the shallow pool. 

(It is also the face of one who just realised that she might be the only female... luckily, another Lady turned up to defend the hockey - honour of womankind, because I truly let you all down, sisters).

Luckily, all the guys were true gentlemen - otherwise, having my head squashed into this latest fashion accessory, my nose squeezed into a pair of googles, elastics pulled over my forehead and hairs shoved back into the hat by damp strangers in very little clothing might have been weird. 

As it stands however, the only truly questionable event was to be asked to repeatedly spit into my goggles to avoid them from steaming up. If you spend most of your working time explaining to grumpy teens that they shouldn't spit, it is slightly surreal to gather enough fluid to wipe your eye-windscreens under the watchful eye of octopushing veterans.

As with all my sporting adventures, I could not have been luckier to be surrounded by the loveliest of people. Not only did Nathan make sure that I could borrow all the necessary equipment, but both Charlie and Fritz took time out from the actual game to coach me.  

After a lesson of how to put on your mask and use both legs for paddling (otherwise you end up swimming in a circle.  Top tip.  Remember it.), I was ready to snorkel the width of the pool.  That bit, I really enjoyed.

Once I mastered the art of not drowning, it went crazy:  I was instructed to dive down to the bottom of the pool. I did vaguely hear the instruction to hold my breath, but somehow managed to forget that.  If you are ever instructed to hold your breath, please do so.  Swallowing "end of the day" pool water was not pleasant.  Even worse as with my fancy goggles I could see the kind of stuff that lives on the pool bed. Y.U.K.

With all my volunteer coaches being required for the game at one stage, I was left with clear instructions to practice further at my own pace.  Dive with a stick, dive and use the stick to push the puck (but don't touch the puck, that would be a foul), dive and use the stick to flick the puck.  I was fine with all of that - but not whilst simultaneously remembering not to breathe.  Much water had been absorbed.

I also had the opportunity to underwater-hover and watch parts of the game.  As with any hockey based game, players use a stick (approx 10cm long) to propel a puck of about 1.5 kg towards the opposite team's 3m wide aluminium or steel goal. Whilst it all looks rather frantic, I would say it definitely looks more graceful than ice- or uni hockey. But in the playing frenzy it can happen that a player gets hit on the hand by a pusher or that hands get scraped on the grouting of the pool tiles.  So players wear a a rubber glove for protection.

Chatting to a number of players, there appeared to be one unanimous view of the sport:  It's fun, it's good exercise, it's very sociable (I was invited to got to the pub afterwards.  On a school night.  After 10pm.  Crazyness!).  

So should you push yourself (mwhahahahah) to try underwater hockey?

1. Errr yah! It really was good fun, and good exercise, and time just flew by so much quicker than if you have to swim length after length.

2. If you want to be fully equipped, you'll need a good quality & good coverage swimsuit, fins, mask, snorkel, glove, pusher.... maybe borrow the equipment for your first go. 

3.  If you do want to have a good first go, I'd recommend becoming a confident snorkeler first.  I didn't get the chance to join the game because I simply wouldn't have managed to join in and stay alive, and I definitely wish that I had practised that first to make the most of my first go.

4. There were players of all sizes, shapes, and ages - and training was after pool opening hours, making the whole swimsuit business slightly more bearable.

5. Whilst it did at times look like unorganised chaos, I was assured that there are clear rules and strategies.  The teams consist of of 6 players each plus substitutes, and each player has a position to hold. 

6.  Unfortunately, due to it mainly being underwater, it's not a particularly spectator friendly sport - but I have checked it out on youtube after the deed,so if you are interested, look it up.  Or, you know, just turn up clueless, you'll survive. 

Homage to my travelling companions

A great number of years ago, my then-job largely involved trying to explain to customers on the other side of the world that they would in fact have to actually pay for the goods they had ordered.  In French. Oui. 

One of my lasting memories was attending an assertiveness training course, during which I learnt that one could come across more assertive when speaking on the phone standing up.  At the time, getting out of my seat for heated discussions about credit extensions whilst desperately flicking through the Business French Dictionary was pretty much my only form of exercise.

Whilst my desk neighbour Amy enjoyed my wild gesticulating against the receiver, I felt I very much had my own back when laughing at her account of trying to ride a bike after years of abandoning it in the garage.  Her story of getting out of breath and aching legs the next day assured me that this would be her one and only escapade into the world of sports. Surely it wouldn't be long until we next overate on pizza to the point of feeling sick, only to suddenly feel revived at the thought of chocolate ice cream?

I couldn't have been more wrong.  Instead of giving up after one attempt, like I would have done, Amy started an entire programme of getting her fitness levels up.  Not long after that, she started blogging as a "This girl can" ambassador... you can read more about it here.

There are many things that I admire about Amy, but the thing that is most inspiring to me is that she was bad at stuff - but kept going.  She went running, and would tell me about it the next day, laughing at how much she struggled to get to the end of her road. She would drag me along to stuff like bounce classes (I alluded to them here), and tell me that it was really hard but that I should definitely try it.

I don't mean to say that she was particularly bad at sports (maybe I should just stop digging...), I guess it was just news to me that people weren't either really sporty, or really not.  Amy showed me that - by sticking with something - you can become good at it. Nowadays, I'm not sure if I'm more inspired by the fact that she has her own personal gym in her garden, or that she cycles to work through crazy London streets.  Not because it was easy and just "kind of happened", but because she just kept going with something she wanted to do, until it was her new normal.

In a similar way, I have been inspired by my husband.  Despite not being keen on heights, he did agree to accompany me to the climbing hall for this blog post.  I'll be honest, I was surprised - I know he usually allows my crazy, mountain climbing, high tower scaling family to drag him along to lofty heights outside his comfort zone. But I didn't expect him to agree willingly to scramble up fake boulders, just so that I can write about it.  The fact that he has now bought his second loyalty pass (and the shoes... and the chalk bag... and watches ALL the YouTube videos...) belies his discomfort.  However, rather than letting that stop him, he has decided to just keep going with it.

And there are many, many more such stories, of the friends who did Couch to 5k after nightfall so that they couldn't been seen struggling along the road, to those who volunteer at sporting events despite injuries to keep a foot in the door.  Those who struggle at the back of the group / class / room, but don't give up after one tough session that might have left them believing it was just beyond them. 

I'm not quite that brave.  I had known for a long a time that things had to change, but I was simply too embarrassed to actually do something about it.  Going to the gym, seeing myself in a mirror, knowing that other people could see me being bad at stuff?  Why would I do that to myself? And so, to the rescue, as always, came the TV.

That's right - on the days when I simply could (and can) not deal with the embarrassment of being me, I'd YouTube exercise clips.  Ideally with the big curtains closed, when Matthew is out, and only choosing the videos with titles such as "super easy for the unfittest beginners EVER with no actual work involved". But I do them. (Since the embarrassing /  uncomfortable carpet burn experience, I do also use a mat, thank you for asking.)

After a while I realised that I needed something slightly more progressive to ensure that I keep pushing myself, and I downloaded an App that would encourage me to spend a few minutes daily getting sweaty.

My first attempt was the "7 minute workout App".  That worked quite well for me initially, but the difficulty levels increased steeply and I lost interest when I had to skip most exercises because they were beyond me.  I have since changed to the "Female Fitness" App - this too is getting more challenging as time progresses, but at a rate that I can keep up with.  Both Apps rely on body weight exercises such as crunches, squats, jumping jacks... Initially I used to put them on as soon as I got in from work, but I found that all too often I had an excuse.  It was later than expected, I should really pop to the shop for dinner, I just want to put on my pjs... I realised that - if I wanted to stick with it - I'd have to create a routine that would enable me.  For me, this now means getting up 20 minutes earlier in the morning.  In return I feel justified to be in bed by 9pm. Win!

Are there any benefits to exercising at home?

1. Massively! The main one for me is that it removes my key barriers - shame & embarrassment. 

2.It's free...

3. It's the most flexible thing to do - no matter the time, weather, what you're wearing... and you can be super creative with it.  We've bought some weights and a jumping rope, so that those minutes wasted staring at the boiling kettle can be used to get our heart rate up. Running up the stairs, doing squats when brushing my teeth, planks during adverts (well.. one advert) - small things that don't impact on your day, and no-one needs to know. 

4. There is an unlimited variety of intensity levels on offer, as well as a broad range of types of exercises.  Want to focus on your arms, or is developing your core the goal?  There will be something tailor-made for you online.  Just look for it.  I have a vague recollection of practising Salsa steps guided by YouTube, there really are no limits.

5.  You're in control.  There are days where I simply can't complete the entire video.  So I just press pause, have a drink, give myself a talking to... all without anyone else having to get involved and possibly judging me. 

6. For me, this was a stepping stone.  Sure, I still use the app and there are still weeks where working out at home is the only thing I do.  But to me, knowing that I was able to complete a 20 minute video, has helped me to have confidence to attempt a lesson.  More than just building my resilience and strength, working out at home has build my courage to exercise in ways and places where people could see me.  I still don't like it - but I know I can do it. 

Taking more chances by dancing more dances

"Are you here for the tap dancing?" I shouted through the pouring rain at the Lady who was very clearly not dressed for dancing.

Awkwardly squeezing out of my car in the tight car park, I realised that shouting random stuff at strangers in abandoned primary schools was not the done thing.  I put on my best winning smile, which I'm sure really put her at ease.

"I don't think so - I'm here for the PTA Meeting", the Lady replied, rushing determinedly towards the front door.  I followed her in the least creepy way possible when wearing leggings and brogues.   Once inside, I found my way through the PTA meeting to the sports hall -  the large, empty, dark sports hall with definitely no tapping or dancing happening.

Sitting on a bench, I debated how long I'd have to wait until I could legitimately write a blog about trying my very best to dance, and how it this clearly had been prevent by a power completely out of my control. 

I also made sure to use my time wisely; evidence that I was there.

Just as I started to think that it would be socially acceptable to leave, Chantell arrived.  Laden with a massive speaker, a number of mats and a huge bag, I have a slight suspicion that she did not expect to see me sitting there in the dark.  Why would she - unlike with all my other sporty adventures, I had not contacted her in advance, but just follow a recommendation  and a quick google search.

Her slight look of panic when I explained that I just wanted to join in (no, I have no previous experience.  Ballet? Err, no, never. No, really, I can't dance...) gave me a clue that perhaps I should have let her know that I was panning to randomly turn up on this rainy Monday.  The group had been working on a dance routine, which I had no chance of picking up. As one by one the Ladies of the group arrived, I became more and more at peace with the idea of sitting down and watching the pros. Let's face it, I'm always at peace with the idea of sitting down.

Chantell however had other ideas. "We'll work on technique instead, it will do us all good", she declared.  Technique sounds very much like squats to me.  I felt like the kid who hadn't done her homework, which lead to the entire class having to stay behind at break. But I was completely wrong - Chantell magically wove technique work into creating a brand new routine that I was able to follow. To a background of Eliza Doolittle, what's not to love?

After a while it became clear that my work shoes were really not at all suitable, and I thought the moment had finally come where I'd be ask to sit out and let the pros do their work.  (Also, I was really ready for a break). But nope, still no sitting down for me.

What followed was an amusing interval of various Ladies swapping shoes with the only aim of finding one pair that might fit me.  May I use the opportunity to thank these amazing Ladies for their kindness.  On this journey through the alphabet of sports' I have encountered some of the kindest, funniest, most welcoming people.  But giving your very own, very personal dancing shoes to a sweaty paws like me, just so that I could join in and feel part of it.. thank you!

I had too much fun to think about taking pictures - this one was sneakily captured at the end.  I wish I could have captured the energy, the sound and the precision for you.

Of course, just putting on a Cinderella slipper did not make me Fred Astaire, but neither did I fall over my own feet.  Naturally I messed up all the steps and forgot to count and couldn't shuffle with my left leg (or any leg, for that matter). BUT I wasn't absolutely terribly the worst person ever.  And I don't say that very often.

This was largely due to the time the Ladies took to make sure I had the chance to learn the steps properly.  Sometimes (always), that involved going over the same bit again and again, and breaking down elaborate sequences into bite-size steps. 

So should you dance your way back into exercise?

1. Absolutely yes!  But maybe check if the lesson is suitable for beginners, or at least pre-warn them of your intentions.

2. Be prepared to sweat.  Buckets.  I was prepared to find it hard, to feel awkward, to not get it, fall over... I was not prepared to struggle for breath and perspire quite as much.

3. Wear comfortable clothing - I guess that goes without saying.  Oh, and if your dance of choice is tap, don't believe google when he says that Brogues will do for beginners.  They will not. 

4.  Compared to other classes I have tried, it had been more difficult to find a class I could just pop along - on the other hand, dancing is really such a wide open field that I'm sure there'd be a style (and nearby class) for everyone.

5. Like with a lot of the other activities I have given a go, it's clear hat you can't learn it in one lesson.  I guess the good thing about tap is that I can practice it at home, on my own, and build confidence before the next class. 

6.  Whilst of course physical activity was the key driver behind me attending this class, I also really enjoyed all the other aspects of dancing. The music, the rhythm, the "desperately trying to remember which step comes next", the counting, the fitting in with the group... I returned home physically and mentally tired from trying to take it all in.

Will there be a next class?  Well... I'm buying the shoes!  And if you wonder what my best husband has to say about the footwear expense, I'd just like to update you on his latest hobby.  Since he'd kindly come along to support me with climbing, he's bough the shoes, the chalk bag and the loyalty discount card. U-hu.

Rollin' with it

Over the last couple of weeks I've had to slow down the speed at which I have been whizzing (or shall we say, wheezing) through the alphabet. Taking part in Box Fit, X-Fit and an Obstacle run has highlighted that certain sports and I are not compatible - and whilst this is being further investigated through the medium of many needles (maaaany needles), I have been instructed to try and not injure myself over the next couple of weeks or so.

Cue sad music whilst I try to hide my glee about the fact that I am not avoiding going for a run, I am simply not allowed to... Times are tough, my friends, times are tough. 

I jest that physical activity has a detrimental effect on my health, but I'll be honest, it's been sub-optimal.

Enter stage left my best husband, who for some reason has not entirely enjoyed my phase of watching repeat episodes of Midsummer Murders with a face full of woe.  In a brave attempt to cheer me up, he highlighted how well I had done in sticking with the blog. So I had to begrudgingly admit that I was still missing 8 letters.  One of them of course my arch nemesis: Q.

And so the thorough research began.  I say thorough - there aren't that many sports to research.  Once we'd established that there is definitely no known Quidditch team within easy reach, the prohibitive cost of half an hour on a quad bike and that the website for the East Anglian Quoits Association is a couple of centuries out of date, we were left with only one plan of action: Quads.

(Or Roller Skates - but that doesn't work for the blog, so we'll keep calling them quads.) 

 We chose what is likely to be the last warm and sunny day of 2019 to drive to Colchester, where for just under £13 per person you can gain access to the rink, hire a pair of retro quads and receive an informative leaflet:

The place reminded me of a bowling alley - perhaps it's the eau - de - sweaty - shoes? 

This might be the time where I'll have to admit that my last attempt in skating is not quite as long ago as decency would have you think.  Of course I was about 10 when I was last told off by my mum for trying to skate downhill through the village to school, rather than walking at a safe pace past the farms.  (All the other kids were allowed to skate... some even had bikes.  Just saying.)

But it will come as a surprise to everybody, including my then-housemate sister, that I did in fact own a pair of white Britney Spears endorsed roller skates in 2003.  At the age of 20, in Business School.  

The reason no-one knew about this is because - despite my deep conviction that I'd make it big in the skating world - I suspected that some people might find it slightly amusing.  And so I hid the skates in the wardrobe.  Once the roads (and my sister) surrendered to the quiet of the night, I'd sneak out and made best possible use of the car-park of the printing business nearby.  I even mastered pirouettes.

All these memories came flooding back as I gingerly approached the smooth wooden surface of the rink.  I expected to find myself sitting down within the first few minutes, but I do think my clandestine practising all these moons ago yielded results.  I soon found myself swishing round and round the oval rink, deftly avoiding toddlers hanging on to the rail.

You may think that spending over an hour just drifting around the same rink might be boring, and it might be if it was not for the on-task resident DJ.  Emotional highlights included "I want it that way" (I did just about stop myself from performing the dance routine I'd learnt in secondary school, although I think it would have looked better on skates), a sudden change skating of direction (I know! The crowd loved it!) and of course, regular use of the smoke machine.  There were even some flashing lights, which lead some sugar-hyped-up 10 year - olds to ignore the instruction to keep to a sensible speed.

My best husband who probably secretly doesn't really care about the blog but really wanted to go skating.

I'll not pretend that I have any idea about the physical benefits of roller skating - I'm sure they are manifold if you do it regularly, and I saw some amazing jumps and trick performed by people who clearly didn't practice under the light of a fading street light. I know that this won't be something that I'd take up as a regular sport.  But it was great fun, and another reminder that being physically active does not have to include squats, just as much as having a fun day does not have to involve a screen.

However, just because I like bullet points, there are a couple of things worth listing:

- I was amazed at the resilience of the children.  No matter how slow the progress, the number of tears and pain of the fall, they all got up again and kept going.  Round and round and fall and up and round and fall and hold and up... It made me wonder: At what age do we start giving up?

- There were some real lessons in kindness on the rink.  Chatting to a Lady who was there with her older Teenage daughter, she explained that it was the girl's second attempt. Struggling with her weight, the daughter wanted to try out an exercise that she could do on her own, at her own speed.  The Lady pointed at the tall girl at the opposite side of the rink, hanging on to the rail, painfully moving one foot in front of the other. How brave, to keep going when it's hard, when everyone around you is younger and faster and makes you feel like you're in the way.  And how lovely, for the mum on the sideline watching on.  "I'm just here to support.  I just help her on and off the rink, but she wants to try on her own."  You go, nameless mum and daughter team.

- Of course there were a number of parents holding their children's hands to stop them from falling (or, less successfully, crashing into people).  But there were a number of sets of young adults, a young couple for instance or a set of girlfriends, where it was clear that one was teaching and guiding whilst the other one was faltering and hanging on for dear life.  More than in any other sport that I have witnessed so far have I seen the strongest ones pushing / pulling / supporting / guiding the beginners. And for me, that definitely out-cools the pink flashlights and the Backstreet Boys.

Tell me why...Ain't nothing but a heartache, Ain't nothing but a mistake, I never want to hear you say: I waaant it thaaat way!

Taking a breather

Back in June, when I wrote my first post, Jess mentioned that she had heard about an upcoming Obstacle run. 

Back then, when I was young and foolish, I googled it straight away:
a 5k (or km, as proper people call it), across fairly flat grounds, interspersed with 28 inflatable obstacles... what could go wrong.

Soon we were signed up, with Jess even being prepared to endure running on her Birthday. 

Unfortunately my health threw a bit of spanner in the works, and the experience didn't quite go to plan. Luckily for Jess, there was very little running - but I think it all came a lot closer to work for her than she had hoped for a day-off birthday. And I was incredibly lucky to be limping about with such a supportive trooper - thank you Jess!

So whilst I wait for some answers, I'm afraid the bloggage (or the sportage, more precisely) will have to take a little breather, just to be on the safe side.

But in the meantime, I'm still very much open to suggestions: the planning must go on!

A reason to dress sensibly

At the beginning of the summer holidays (...2017...), I pledged that I would practice cycling to work, ready to be a confident rush hour cyclist by September. 

3 sets of summer holidays have passed since, and I am yet to fullfill that pledge. However, on this occasion there are actual, real and sensible reasons in addition to pure laziness as to why I have not met this particular challenge:

1.  We managed to buy the probably only house in the hole entirety of flat county Suffolk from whence I'd have to conquer 2 steep hills in order to get to work. 
2. The only route (avoiding the A14) to get to work leads me through a very busy town centre at rush hour.  It is dangerous - I'd know, I'm one of the drivers to blame for that.
3. Even the non-town centre roads on this route are perilous because of the number of parked cars in crazy places.  You can't ride near the pavement but instead have to "own" the middle of the lane. Cycling lanes?  What's that?
4.  Also, let's be honest, it's effort.  I couldn't get to work in a skirt with heels and some kind of organised hair do. Sounds dreadful. Sounds like me most days anyway, but that's a different conversation entirely. I just want the option of making an effort.

However, a pledge is a pledge and I shall one day attempt to keep it - but I felt I'd first need to develop a base level of bike-riding-ability. 

Social media to the rescue, I had a number of offers and suggestion on where I could practice.  Howard kindly suggested to ride around Alton Waters with me(this place has a lot to answer for).  The 8-mile / 12km round trip can be conquered on foot or bike, and if you don't own a bike you can hire them at the location (including helmets. Make sure they give you one that fits...)

My helmet did not fit.  Yes, I know about tightening the notch at the back.  Yes, I did try to use my pony tail to hold it in place.  Yes, I did look like this in public except when the helmet feel forward and I had to cycle blindly.

If you have read my blog before, you know that my adventures usually pan out in one of two ways:
1.  I dread it beforehand, and it turns out I'm awful at it.
2.  I think it'll be easy beforehand, and it turns out I'm awful at it.

HOWEVER - this one was different.  For one, we booked it at such short notice that I didn't have much time to dread it.  We'd also had a busy weekend and so I didn't have time to build up my normal amount of panic.  There was a moment, just after we'd collected our bikes and the gents told me to lead the way that I thought "there is no way I can do this".  But there were too many people around to do much about it, and so I ended up funnelled along the path, whistling a happy tune.

And whilst there were a couple of inclines where I had to get off and push my bike, overall I thought I'd managed pretty well (I was measuring myself against a 5 year old we overtook a couple of times. I know how to set achievable targets).

The ride took us about 90 minutes, which included stopping to adjust saddle heights a couple of times, fixing a dropped chain,  general chatting and picture taking and not killing pedestrians with our crazy speed. I have no doubt that most people could beat that time, but it felt a comfortable, enjoyable pace rather than full-on effort. 

Then we had Ice Cream.  The End.

So is melancholy really incompatible with cycling?

1.  I guess it depends on what you want to get out of it.  I know that there is a cycling club in our town where people search out well planned routes and work for speed and endurance when it comes to riding uphill.  I'm fairly certain I would not have enjoyed that as much. The relaxed afternoon ride we had would probably not have done a massive amount for our fitness levels but we were outdoors, off the sofa, and moving.  So, a gentle win but still a win I think. 

2. If you do plan on taking up cycling, think carefully on what you want / need and seek advice from professionals.  We bought my current bike second hand and had a number of problems, the biggest of all being that I just don't trust it.  It doesn't feel very sturdy. I now wish I'd invested a bit more and actually felt safe riding it, rather than wobbling about, praying that the breaks work this time. 
- Take some time to work out your gears and your timings.  We discovered a couple of times that we left it too late to adjust our gears when approaching inclines, which meant we didn't manage to get to the top.  I believe that - if I had familiarised myself with the rental bike before we set off - I'd have been much more efficient. So next time I know that I'll be quicker even if my fitness levels stay the same.
- Check your saddle height.  My knees were stroking my ears.  Not ideal.
- Get. A. Comfortable. Saddle.  Just saying, whilst waddling.
- Also, get a helmet.  I mean it.  Ask my brother-in-law who "only" suffered broken ribs and a mangled helmet in an accident.

3. The benefits of cycling are manifold:
- It can easily be incorporated into your every day life.  If you cycle to work for example, you then don't have to go to the gym, you've had your work out.  Unless you live above your shop.
- Once you own a bike (and a well fitting helmet), you don't have any additional costs other than perhaps maintenance. Unlike a gym membership, which will continually cost you and make you feel guilty on those days where you just don't manage to get there.
- It's fairly gentle on the joints.  Despite my legs being particularly sore at the moment, making me consider whether it was wise to go ahead with our plans today, I came home in no worse pain than I set out in.  I know from experience that I would be in pain if I had gone on a walk instead, so I'm really chuffed with the outcome.
- It can be a social or an independent sport. Go out on your own at your own speed, or find a nice location with cycling lanes that allow you to have a little chat with your buddy. 
- The NHS website highlights that cycling can reduce the risk of serious illness such as heart disease and that it has a positive impact on your mental health.

4.  The planet.  You don't need me to spell it out. Please, hold me accountable - or even cycle to work with me:-) Mwahahahah!

On yer bike!

Thank you Howard for a fantastic time!  We hope you're not too sore!

Maybe Burpees don't like me either?

I was already awake when the alarm went off at 5am.  I had been awake a long time, concerned that the dizzyness would come back. The experience at BoxFit left me worried that I was not up for this early morning challenge: XFit. 

What is this XFit you speak of, I hear you ask? Well - it's really called Cross Fit but that wouldn't have fitted with the purpose of this blog, which is to finally cross off the letter X from my alphabet challenge. 

The workouts are designed to improve overall fitness and strength, using movements similar to those in every day life.  If you visit their website, you will find several references to the fact that everyone - from Olympian to Grandparent - benefits from the same exercises, just at different intensities. For the purpose of my life, I shall choose intensity level Great - Grandparent.

When I arrived at the Suffolk Food Hall (lovely place, great cakes), I could already hear the music banging from one of the outbuildings.  The heat we have come to expect over these last few days had not yet broken the gentle breeze, and the Orwell bridge looked abandoned in the early morning mist as I worked up the courage to enter.  I know that I'd struggle with any class, but a 6am crossfit class in a purpose built studio would be a different level to the early evening local community gym classes for £5.

Once inside I was met by the types of machines you might expect in a well equipped gym: Dumbells, kettlebells and weighted balls were stacked on shelves alongside massive weight plates. Machines for rowing, cycling, skiing as well as a rings were lined up neatly against the walls, just waiting for the fun to start. 

We all gathered around a white board which detailed the work out programme, and coach Jodie explained what the warm up would look like:

In pairs, we would share two exercises and alternate.  So for example, one would be using the rings whilst the other would run up and down the hall, and then swap. Everyone in this group of 10 seemed lovely, but I was particularly grateful to the two Ladies who took me under their wing.  They made sure that I was given the lightest dumbells, understood the settings on the machines and continuously reminded me to take it easy.

Warm up over, we stared the workout of the day:
4 stations, 2 exercises at each station,  3 minutes at each station.
We did the whole set twice, with an official break of 1 minute between them.  I insisted on being a rebel and making my own rules, having my breaks pretty much all the time.

Each station had one exercise with a clear target to be reached, and one that you'd do until the time was over.  For example, row 200m as fast as you can, and then do Burpees until the 3 minutes are over. Or spin until the machine indicates that you've burn 15 calories, then use the remainder of your 3 minutes on drop balls.

After my first set of Burpees, the lightheadedness I had been dreading came back with full force. The coach suggested that - seen as it has happened a few times now - I might need to get my blood pressure checked.  Having dizzyness take over for a couple of moments in itself isn't a problem - I know that I need to squat down, breathe and drink water and I'll soon be back to normal.  But I do find it very embarrassing, having to rest when everyone else had been working so much harder without a break. 

But even this session came to an end eventually, and after a a few minutes of thorough stretching it was time to wave goodbye.  Whilst we were sweating, the world had woken up, and the sun already made itself felt as I limped back to the car.

If you asked me how I feel about Cross Fit, I'd say:

- Make sure you bring a bottle of water or even a sweetened drink.  You'll sweat a lot.
- Wear comfortable clothes and good trainers.
- I did really enjoy the fact that I still have the entire day ahead of me after the work out - but here are classes on at all different times of the day if the early raising is not your thing.
- A lot of the exercises were designed to be done in pairs, so if you have a friend you could coerce into going with you, that might make your first experience a bit less painful. 
- Like with many other classes, I had to yet again be reminded that I should work at my own speed, and pace myself if I want to last the duration.  I often find myself going full throttle on a first set, only to have to sit out the third to recover.

...and they still smiled...

Putting the badass back into badassminton

One of the barriers I have been coming up against when trying out new sports, particularly team sports, is that I am extremely self conscious about the fact that I will be holding the team back and stop them from making the most of their training.  Not many people would enjoy the feeling of being the one who - literally and consistently - drops the ball, with skilled sports people looking on in despair.

So I completely understand the clubs who have responded with kindness and being so supportive of my endeavours, but ultimately explained that they could "only" offer the opportunity to watch from the sidelines. I appreciated that a longstanding team that dedicates hours to become the best they can be  will struggle to make time to watch me trip over my own feet. (Even though, it is hi-LA-rious.) 

When Max invited me to play badminton doubles at the local community gym, I thought that would be an ideal opportunity to get to learn a little bit about the game, without having to inconvenience accomplished players.  I have a slight suspicion that Max realised at some point just how much of "not a clue" I had about the game. Because he decided that I'd need a "lesson of the basics" first. 

This makes complete sense: Being the only not knowing what's going on in any group is uncomfortable for you, and slows down the game for others.  So spending some time to get a grip of the basic rules, techniques and vocabulary seemed sensible. 

And so I found myself one sweltering Friday afternoon in an old school gym (memories of Karate came flooding back - I think soon every gym and community hall in Ipswich will bring me flash backs of sore legs).  I thought we'd have a bit of a whack about for fun, didn't really see it as part of my sporty challenge. Hence the lack of photos.

What I did not expect was that we would spend a good few minutes looking at how to hold the bat properly.  Once I've mastered to keep an appropriate gap between my index finger and the handle, we moved on to practice backhand and forehand movements, how to angle the bat and how to use your other arm as a guide. 

The next step was to learn about the pitch, the meaning of the white lines on the ground and some of the basic rules. 

Just when I thought there was nothing more to learn and thus itching to have a "proper match", Max pulled out a pack of 10 feather shuttlecocks. That's right:  time to practice the serve.  "Easy", I thought, "just hit it over the net". Wrong again. Patiently Max explained that the racket should stay below the waist, angled downwards, the shuttlecock should be held in an extended arm at the angle that will allow it to just clear the net marginally.... 

After an hour and half, and an actual game that I lost at something like 21 - 2,  I really felt like I'd had a good work out, learnt a lot, but most of all had a great time. Despite Max managing to stand still and quite comfortably hitting every shot, whilst I ran around like a crazy old Lady in an egg-and-spoon race with my extended racket...I will practice, get good, and demand a rematch. I. Will. Get. You. Back. Just you wait.

I feel I can't really write my pearls of "why it would be fabulous if you took up Badminton" wisdom, because it wasn't a fully organised-and-paid- for session.  But I learnt quite a few bits that I thought worth looking back on in a few weeks when I'm a whimpering "I just can't do it" mess:

1.  "Sports" doesn't have to mean hours of a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach because you're dreading it - find the people and places that make you comfortable enough to be bad at stuff, laugh about it and try again. Maybe that's an exercise class with a back row and without mirrors.  Maybe that's a team sport surrounded by your friends.  Or maybe that's just hanging out with friends for a laugh - as long as you're moving, you're improving. (I came up with that one myself.)

2. "I'm not the type of person who..." has been a mantra all my life.  Not the type of person who is good at maths, who wears lipstick, who can pull off wearing white, who can do sports.  As if we were born either good or bad at stuff.  And this mindset has held me back from trying new things, and still comes to the fore on a regular basis.  I'm not the kind of person who is good at badminton  - because I've not practised.  Because I've not invested the time in hitting shuttlecock after shuttlecock after shuttlecock over the net to get a feel for the best angle.  I'm not saying everyone can achieve everything, but I do believe (when sitting comfortably on my sofa) that one is not "bad at stuff beyond hope" from the outset. By the same token, this attitude takes away from the people who are truly great at stuff.  It implies that hey were just born with that skill, omitting the hours, tears and sweat invested to get to where they are.

3.  Understanding gives you confidence.  I'm so glad Max took the time to talk me through the rules and got me to practice clears, smashes and drops. If I had just turned up to a full blown game, I would have found it quite intimidating. It must have been one of the most boring afternoons for Max, just feeding me shuttlecocks and repeating clever words about angles and power, but it has helped me a lot. I'm no super-badminter after this, but I can go along to a game or book a court with a friend and not feel entirely useless.


Fun Fact at the end:  Badminton is (apparently) a more intense sport than tennis.  I'm well on my way to becoming a sportier version of Roger Federer.  

Punching harder

Occasionally I get asked how I decide which sport to try next.  Usually it's fairly straight forward - there are things like Kickboxing that I had always wanted to try.  Other times, friends who already do a sport invite me along to their club, as was the case with for example Karate and Zumba.

Today's sporty adventure however came along for altogether more - shall we say - ingenious reasons.

This was the conversation with my best Husband yesterday night*:
M: Seen as our plans for tomorrow have just been cancelled, does this mean we can make new plans?  
A: Yes! I was just thinking that maybe we could go Shop...
M: Err, I was thinking we could paint the spare room that you keep going on about?
A: Tomorrow?
M:  Yes.
A: Ah, you see, tomorrow I can't. 
M: What?  Why? 
A: I'm busy. 
M: Busy doing what?
A: Errrr, hummm, SPORTS!
M: Which sports?
A: (Come on, council gym website, load already....) Pilates!
M: You've already tried Pilates.
A:  Just checking that you're keeping up to date with the blog. Tomorrow I'll be trying out.. err. (scroll, scroll...)..Mummy Yoga.
M: Anna, you are not trying out Mummy Yoga. It's for mothers.
A: Ahahahahah, hahahaah, how funny, my Swiss accent made it sound like I said "mummy yoga" Hahaaha (scroll, scroll, scroll, waiting to load...), no, what I said was tomorrow I'll be doing Box Fit. 
M:  What does that involve?
A:  I don't know, but I hear it's veeeeeery hard work.  You can't use your arms for DAYS!**

And so poor Anneka fund herself dragged yet again along to a class - I say "dragged along", she actually likes sports and has done this class before, so this bit I've invented purely for added dramatic effect. 

Up to this point, I thought the class would involve punching things.  And it does, but a cold shudder run down my spine when Anneka said "... and then when you do the running between repetitions...".  Everything after that was a bit of a blur. I didn't know there would be running.

The class is designed similarly to a HIIT work out:  
- You work in pairs
- There is always one partner punching and one partner holding the pads
- There are 4 sets of different punches
- You do each set of punches for 4 rounds of 30 seconds each
- After each round of punches, you have a 20 second cardio blast (running, jumping jacks....)
- After each cardio blast, you've earned your 10 seconds rest.  Note:  10 seconds is not enough to take your gloves off, open your bottle, gulp, close bottle, gloves back on.  So you can either not drink, or use it is a clever ploy to reduce your 30s punching time... I'm not judging no-one.

So I'd like to tell you at this point that I performed fantastically well in this class.  However, that would be another lie.  Unfortunately about half way through the class, I felt myself covered in cold sweat, unable to catch my breath and light headed.  I had to sit out a few rounds and (yet again for added dramatic effect), a large fan was brought in. 

I had this happen before when exercising, and whilst I don't know what brings it on, I know it usually passes very quickly if I stop, calm my breathing down, and have some water.  Luckily, this was the case here and was able to join in again.  I didn't want to deprive Anneka of practising her strong defence.

However, because of my outstanding effort, I'd say I definitely still scored in the top 5 members of the class. 

Would Box fit be a good way of getting back your punch?
1. I'm all for efficient work-outs, and so far I've enjoyed all the HIIT based classes.  It's really hard work whilst you're there, but you can clearly feel that you've worked afterwards and that gives you the endorphin boost that will keep you going. 

2. It's a good mix of strength and cardio, so you get a bit of both.

3.  It is good fun to punch someone, especially if you have someone like Anneka to aim at. 

4.  I also felt it worked my sense of coordination, as sometimes we were changing the types of punches within a set - at one point I seriously got confused between my left and right, and several times I'm sure I've lifted the wrong leg.

5.  the group we joined was very small, as it was a Monday morning, which felt like harder work because you can't hide.  The upside was that we got very personalised support from the coach.  I guess that just depends on the class available near you.

6. As you can see, normal gym wear and trainers are perfect - and definitely do remember your bottle of water!

*This conversation may have been slightly different in reality.  If I recall correctly, it went like this:
A:  I might try Box Fit tomorrow.
M: OK.

** This bit is probably actually true.  It's intense on the arms.

Anyway, apparently there is a wall waiting to be stripped....

Getting my vitamin Sea

It's been nine days since we've finished the walk.  Nine days during which I forced myself to eat as much chocolate as possible to regain my strength. (It's been an effort, especially as it's had to be mainly Swiss chocolate.).  Nine days during which I used the list of "sports yet to do" for my unsporty alphabet challenge as a convenient place-mat for the remote control. Nine mornings of setting early alarms for planned runs, only to have more hours during which to tidy the readily laid out running gear out of the way again.

Paradise.

But I feel that my body has been usurped by some kind of crazy physically active being, which kept telling me that I felt like doing something.  Utter craziness.

And so I found myself looking at emails from different groups that I had contacted to ask if I could join in, and found a reply from an open water swimming group. "Check out our Facebook page for details." If it involves Facebook, I don't need asking twice - and found that Jonathan is closely involved with the group. 

A few reassuring emails later (from Johnathan to me, mine were more like "AHHHH, I'll DIIIEEE!.") we agreed to meet at beach hut 207 at around 10am.

As we arrived, a small number of wet suit clad swimmers were standing around chatting, pointing at the sea discussing wind- and tide direction. More and more people of all ages, abilities and levels of covered-up-ness arrived. If you've read my blog on aquaaerobics you'll know my feelings about being in public in a swim suit, but I felt entirely comfortable among this group.  Everyone was there because they wanted to be, and no-one had any interest in what I look like. Everyone was welcoming and welcome.

Johnathan talked me through some basic information on how to best avoid hitting the rocks and how to recognise the first signs of hypothermia, whilst I picked up from the chatter around us that a number of people had come directly from the Parkrun. I'm still gobsmacked that people are willing to move more than once a week, but twice in one day... and some of them were talking of cycling home afterwards.  It's like a new universe!

A big shout out to my best husband, for coming along, watching my stuff, having a warm towel ready at the end and for being made impromptu photographer for all picture requirements.

Once everyone was wearing their brightly coloured swimming hats for safety reasons, we were off into the water - some had announced that they had a busy day ahead and would only do the 2 mile round swim, others were weary of the choppy waves and encouraged me to come along for a quick "bob in the water."  Everyone was free to do as much or as little as they wanted / felt comfortable with.  

Whilst I did feel fairly cold (my standard setting for all life situations) standing at the beach, I still felt that - overall - the sea looked very pleasant with its jolly waves splashing joyously against the sand. I reassured myself that I  could probably swim an OK distance within an acceptable time frame.  

You can hear the "however", can't you.  Once I was in the water I realised that the "fun" waves are actually probably tools of mental torture. For every hard earned stroke, they pushed me back two steps.  I don't know how long I was actually in the water, but I do know that I did not move.  I guess I can be proud of the fact that I managed to stay in place rather than being dragged backwards, although it was later suggested that I could have just swam "with the wind" rather than against it.  There's always next time. The same "next time" where I will wear goggles to avoid swimming with a backwards-bent neck like a toffee-nosed crane.

Luckily, Johnathan kept me company, and whilst I didn't achieve very much today, I had a lovely chat and thus swallowed about a gallon of salty water. Once I felt my arms getting tired I started making my way back to the beach, accompanied by two other members. "See", I thought to myself "you're not so bad.  These guys are already done in, too, and they have been coming here for months." It was only when they brought me back to the beach safely and then headed out for their actual swim that I realised that looking after me had been their warm up. 

Back on firm ground, I realised just how cold I had been - the shaking only stopped once Matthew treated me to a sweet coffee, a restaurant lunch and a new (Charity Shop) dress.  

So, was it worth it?

1. Absolutely - but if you join a group, check out what their requirements and standards are.  If you cannot swim at all, I would suggest lessons first. I am confident with breast stroke, but not so much with crawl, and whilst this group would be the perfect place to improve my skills, I think I need to learn the basics separately.

2. With this particular group it was a requirement to wear a bright swimming hat so that you can be seen in case of an emergency.  Goggles, wetsuits and floats were optional, but retrospectively they do seem to be a good idea.  Some people had floats with waterproof bag compartments to carry phones, keys etc. I also wore sea shoes, knowing that my delicate princess feet don't like the pebbles.

3. I do generally enjoy swimming in a pool, but I don't like the faff around it (the getting changed etc.) What really frustrates me however is the lane swimming. I used to go regularly, but found that the slow lane (where I very clearly belong) was regularly hijacked by groups wanting to discuss the latest BBC Radio 4 Drama 4 people wide (and ideally practising their tutting if I tried to overtake).  It wasn't too bad if they stood completely still as I could swim around them - it became a bit more tricky when they were doing the "pretend you are swimming with your arms whilst you are actually walking very slowly with your feet" dance.  I'm not complaining about people being slow or trying their best to improve - it's what I am all about.  But it left me without options, as I couldn't move in the slow lane, but equally knew that I definitely do not belong in the fast lane. Swimming in the sea has allowed me to swim exactly at my speed, and even though there were a large number of people, there was space to move in the direction and style and pace that I wanted to.

4.  If you have read my blog before you know that I am sometimes reluctant to join with something in fear of holding other people back.  Whilst Johnathan kindly stayed with me during my on-the-spot struggles, it was very clear that everyone does what they want - there is not a team aim or a team goal or a team approach. There is safety in numbers, and people look out for each other but everyone does their own thing. 

5.  I really enjoyed the sense of community - I felt very warmly welcomed as a newby, but it was also clear that many people knew each other well. Equally I found that the more experienced swimmers were more than happy to give advise and support, so whilst I didn't have a lesson as such I still felt I learnt a lot.

6. More than with any other sport so far I felt that my "achievements" are outside of my control.  So on a windy rough day you can work super hard and not move at all (that's my excuse, anyway), whilst on a still day or when supported by the current you might achieve great distances. To someone like me, this is great news: I cannot measure myself, I cannot fail, because distance and time are influenced by so many other factors. Basically, what I'm saying is that I would be a great swimmer if it wasn't for all that water. 

So, go on, jump in!