Rate your fitness!

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It is never a good sign when you turn up to Huffy Puffy to find that you are the only victim in attendance. This is because you cannot “fake” exercise as you have Mrs Spark’s full attention.

“We are going for a walk.” she tells me, which was music to my ears. It was quite a warm day, but off we set. Now normally I do not like to exercise in public because I am neither svelte or co-ordinated, but walking was far more appealing to planking and doing things with large medicine balls, so I did not object. It was around school drop off time, so there were loads of Mums around, many leading small fluffy dogs. I said good morning to them, as I walked past. Because it WAS a good morning! I was walking in the sun.

After a while, I noticed that we were staring to walk some hills. I complained (as I tend to do during HP) that my fingers were beginning to hurt, to which she replied was because of blood circulation, something to do with oxygen… yadda yadda yadda.

We then hit a BIG hill and my heart nearly burst through my chest cavity when we reached the top. By this stage I was sweating, had a beetroot face and was no longer greeting the other school mums in a cheery fashion. I was more snarling at them.

And then it happened. She said “Now we are going to do some stairs.”

Little did I know it, but there is a ginormous motherfucking set of stairs next to the school. They were endless. They are not the ones up there in that photo. Those ones are the teeny tiny cousin of the big set, that I was told that I would have to do…. 3 times!

As we walked down them, I realised that I was descending the staircase from hell. Once we got to the bottom, I did my best impression of a tantrumming 3 year old, which she rightfully ignored.

So off I went. After a minute or so, I was fairly sure I was going into shock. In my head I was going through my mantra of “I think I can… I think I can..” and after 4 weeks, I hit the top of the stairs, fell into a heap and vomited a bit in my mouth.

My fitness is extraordinary.

“Ok, lets go again!” says the perpetually cheery slave driver.

“No.”

I mean, she couldn’t make me right? I am the boss of me, right?

So we stood there, fighting at the top of the mage-staircase. Eventually we came to an arrangement.

I would complete HALF the stairs without stopping at a cracking pace as long as when I got to the top, I did not fall down in a screaming heap, instead I had to smile.

Which I did. I smiled though my sweat. I grinned though my dizziness and then I announced that I needed a coffee, and she was buying.

How do you rate your current state of fitness?

Please rate using the 1 to 10 system.

10 being you are a highly trained elite athlete working for the CIA.

1 being, you are so unfit that you could not even be bothered to comment….