... but I've been working out.
Let me tell you how it all started. Well, as you're aware of, I've been spending large amounts of time drinking espressos martinis (v. nice: try it) by the pool up in Shoreditch House. As this was becoming slightly embarassing (barmen having proposed to create a "buy 10 espresso martinis get a complimentary prociutto ciabatta for free" loyalty scheme specially for me), I thought I needed to come up with a more noble reason to be spending time there.
And there it was: the GYM. I've had my induction last Sat, which I attended with a mix of disdain and light-headedness. But when I saw the look on John's face - he's my fitness coach- when I told him I did NOT have a fitness objective, it made me re-think my prejudices. It wasn't shock or incomprehension - but blatant sadness and empathy, leading me to realise how much I was probably missing out on life for NOT having a fitness objective.
So now I do have one: running an hour three times a week. It's not a very proper fitness objective (proper fitness objectives sound a lot more scientific, along the lines of "toning up oblique abs in order to achieve overall upper body firmness") but it suits my warrior nature. I'm not there yet, but I know I've got that strength inside of me.
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