Now that my baby’s no longer a baby, and is starting to sleep through the night (I’m afraid to even write it, let alone say it out loud, for fear of relapse) there’s no longer any excuse to use new motherhood as a reason for not getting fit.
Getting fit might be a slight exaggeration – I am already fairly fit, but nothing like I was BBB (before BB). BBB I spent several hours a week in the gym on all manner of fancy equipment, but I haven’t set foot in the place since and as a result am rather soft around the edges.
So this week I took the bull by the horns and signed up to a taster session of British Military Fitness, aka boot camp style fitness classes run by former or serving members of the military. It seemed the perfect solution: held on the sea front where I live it offers a chance to make the most of the beach, as I pledged to do when we moved here four months ago, plus intensive training packed into a one hour class before Misery Guts leaves for the office. Just the ticket.
Oh. My. Goodness.
Think water bottles filled with pebbles, sand and sea water for weights. Think push ups without putting your knees on the ground. Think muscles burning and begging for mercy.
It was brilliant. The most exhilarating thing I’ve done for ages. I’m going to sign up, and you should too. British Military Fitness, yoga, zumba – whatever takes your fancy. Forget all those excuses, when you think about it they really don’t wash. You’ll find something that fits in if you look hard enough.
Just prepare to have to roll out of bed the following morning in the style of your six months+ pregnancy roll…