Couch to 5K
Conversation in the suburbs is limited to two things: planning permissions and keeping fit. And so I have recently started exercising, in an effort to remain modish at dinner parties.
This happens to coincide with the creeping realisation that one is not in Kansas any more and the turbo metabolism of one’s youth is on the decline. I’ll be damned if I’ll eat less so my only option is to move more.
Swimming is nice because there’s a steam room, a sauna and a Jacuzzi at my pool, but it is difficult to fit in a swim in a morning, on account of the commute and the shower afterwards. And I always forget my knickers.
I will not pay for an exercise class in which I am humiliated for being the only participant unable to progress beyond the warm-up stages.
And thus it came to be that I downloaded an app called Couch to 5K. I hate running almost as much as I hate the word “couch”, but I have been assured by my least exercise-enthusiastic friends that it is all the rage for people like me, for whom dancing on a nightclub speaker as a teenager was a viable keep fit method.
My first run this morning went well. There was a minor glitch at one point when I realised the app had mysteriously paused and was stuck on a recovery walk that lasted for nearly seven minutes, causing me to miss three of the actual running episodes, but nevertheless it was good to have that time to behold all the neighbours’ roses.
Once I was back on track, it gave me another useful recovery walk so I could stop at the village bread stall to pick up some fresh sourdough; after which I bumped into a friend and we had a good catch up about the dreaded luxury flats being proposed down by the river. I think that must have been during a running phase because next thing I know I’m on the “cool down” walk back home, which was just as well because I needed to get back to receive the Majestic wine delivery.
My friends were right: this is not too torturous a regime and I think Couch to 5K is just the ticket.