Gym time

(No, it's not my physique — dream on, Ju.)

I'm just back from Ivybridge gym. It was quiet right up until the end when everyone piled in. 

It's great to see so many people enjoying the experience — young, old and all body shapes: it's how it should be, and not dominated by freakishly looking men working nothing else but their chest and biceps. 

To be honest, when I joined in January, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about the experience. You see, having trained since I was 15 (1982), there have been times where I've simply given up — years in fact — and I've thought that life is too short to waste time pushing weights. But then again, I enjoy it, despite the fact that my body often objects — haha. 

The thing though that's made it that little bit special is that me and daughter #3 joined together and, without exception, we've not missed a workout together. She's super strong and I know if she wanted to could push a lot more weight — and I mean powerlifting style. Put it this way for a 16-year-old to deadlift 50kg from the off is no mean achievement. 

My wife says it's really special, and I suppose it is. 

Tonight she asked me if my parents ever (a) took me to the gym or (b) showed any interest in any of my sporting activities, and the answer was a resounding no; but I'm not the least bitter: it is what it is. But I see the point she's getting at, namely, I'm interested in Floz and she wouldn't be training with me unless she thought I had her best interests at heart.

Right now, I've no aims or ambition for what I'll get out of the gym. I do feel though it would be good to get back some of my conditioning and strength but then again, I'm not that fussed. Just having the interest and motivation is good enough.



Photo by Damir Spanic on Unsplash


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