Call me stupid. Tell me I was asking for trouble.
I did it. I joined the gym in my Korean hometown. For as little as £30 you can too be beaten black and blue under the pretence of keeping fit. In reality it is incredibly good value as not only do I have gym membership, I have also attained a personal trainer at no extra cost. My first visit was something of a surprise. I confidently strolled in, threw my handbag in the changing room and made a beeline for the treadmill. As soon as I put one foot on the machine I heard a voice in my ear,
‘How long exercise?’
It took me a few seconds to reply, ‘Um…maybe an hour,’ only for the gym owner to grunt and suggest this would not be long enough for someone as out of shape as me. He didn’t explicitly say this but I felt it was implied in his facial aerobics. I was then permitted to warm up for five minutes in peace before the gruelling resistance training began. Muscles that I wasn’t ware of suddenly made their presence felt and a realisation of the pain I would feel the next day hit me. Cardio training was less of a run and more of a sweaty crawl.
Getting out of bed the next morning was not pleasant. Even less enjoyable was the bicycleride to school the next morning as each muscle screamed out in pain.
Six weeks on and I wouldn’t change it for the world. The two trainers always have a smile for you and provide a sweat inducing, varied workout that revitalises after a desk filled day at school. As well as that endophin rush my increasing toned stomach is a definite plus. Yes, it is slowly turning from jelly into something resembling something more like slightly melted ice cream. Of course.