Today I was feeling very lazy and sloth-like. ‘Nothing at all’ was how I fancied my day planning out, but the other half had other ideas.
“Why don’t you come to the gym with me?” He said, more like an order rather than a question.
“Because I don’t want to,” came my reply, to which I instantly felt at least 3kg heavier and a whole load of guilt I couldn’t be bothered to be dealing with.
“You could just walk with me?”
I tutted and rolled my eyes from the depths of my blankets on the sofa. This morning was not going to be a morning of crap tv and no things to do.
“Fine,” I huffed and got myself ready to go.
The air was bracing. Minus one. It woke me up.
At the gym I eyed the rowing machine. No, not today.
Then I remembered the hydrotherapy massage chairs.
Quickly making my way back to the private room which housed an over-sized chaise longue stuffed unceremoniously in the corner, I settled myself down and input my membership number.
The black vinyl innards sparked into life and minor jets of water started pummelling me travelling up and down my body in some sort of airport scanner style routine. 20 minutes later and I felt bruised enough that I had done a work out.
Walking back home from my gym visit I smiled to myself – I’ve discovered #gymhack101