Dogged Determination

I have become unfit. 65 years old and I do not yet wish to be an old lady. So today, I decided to begin my journey back to health. This is me:

Ready to go! Stomach presented.
With my new trainers
And my gym ball

I purchased the gym ball a long time ago, to sit on at my desk when I was suffering from back ache. Somewhere along the line, I replaced it with a fancy chair, and the ball now rolls, redundant, around my office (AKA the family room), getting in the way. As you see here, the sight of me, sitting on the ball, is not pretty.

Now you know what I’m talking about! I put this here to give others confidence, Whizz thought I would chicken out.

The moving of my workspace into our family room is recent, and the dog is uneasy with the situation. He wants to round Whizz and I up so he can see us both; it’s the sheep dog in him. But I am upstairs, and Whizz is down, which makes that tricky. What happens instead is that he hangs around one or other of us – it is usually me, I don’t know why – and slumps onto the floor to wait…

wimpering pathetically and making a person feel guilty. When I stand up, giving him hope of food or play, he leaps to attention. I may have mentioned before that my gardening activities provide this dog with humping opportunities. What then do you imagine he might do if I decide to lie on the floor to attempt some of these exercises?

You can see the similarity between my body and this girl’s. These exercises are sure to be a doddle.

I decided to start with number 1, the single leg bridge, and soon realised that a double leg bridge was more my level. The dog rushed to help and soon became amorous. I don’t have a picture of this. When I tried to re-enact my exercises, with Whizz taking photos on his shiny new iPhone, the dog was distracted and wouldn’t hump. Can’t say I regret that!

He was still very interested though and I had to hold him off with one hand. Impossible.

So I decided to assume the position for number 2, The Pike. At least I would be partially off the floor.

You may notice that my gym ball is somewhat bigger than the one in the pictures, and this is my excuse for, despite many futile attempts, finding it impossible to get my shins onto it. Perhaps, I thought, if I start with the ball on my chest, I can walk forwards, with my hands on the floor, until the ball arrives where it is meant to be:

The dog is coming in for the kill
Muddy from his walk
I give up.

I found a youTube video of exercises for seniors and, having despatched the dog to Whizz’s office, I did that instead. This fitness lark takes some planning.


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