Competing with the youngsters

You should never do it you know.  On Saturday I accompanied my eldest (beautiful, slim and curvaceous teenage Girlie) to the gym at which we've held a little-used membership for years.  By virtue of her age she gets to join other teenagers for 'Teen Gym' led by a dedicated bubbly fitness instructor.  I spotted her giggling with the young lad she'd been paired up with.............whilst running, cycling, stepping etc!!!  I hardly have breath to stay conscious on these machines let alone flirt with the sweaty bloke next door.  The husband and the Boy were alledgedly swimming but i suspect from their red faces that they spent most of that time in the steam room and sauna.  Yes, we're having a concerted family effort at keeping (or rather getting) fit though i have to keep asking myself if this a good thing, particularly for my self-esteem!  I think Girlie's getting into it a bit more, and the boy enjoys splashing about with his dad.  I'd think of swapping to swimming with the Boy if it wasn't for the fact that i feel more comfortable in track pants and a tshirt than in a swimsuit!  I know i'll have to take the plunge at some point though since those fitness freaky people are always going on about doing a range of exercise to ensure that all muscle groups are challenged.



The Boy and The Monument



The thighs were seriously challenged yesterday.  The Boy and I were up in London for his hospital appointment which obviously has to involve a bit of fun afterwards (did i really say 'fun'?).  After a leisurely lunch we wandered back towards the train station (the route may have involved a couple of shops....).  At this point the Boy spotted The Monument; a 60m tall Christopher Wren designed column topped off with an enormous golden globe artichoke (well that's what it looks like) that was built to commemorate the Great Fire of London.  Next thing i know, i've paid the princely sum of £4 for us both to climb the bloody thing.  'You've got to count the steps' said the bloke at the entrance.  That's easy for him to say sitting in his little ticket office at the bottom and i'm sure, quietly chuckling to himself at the state of visitors as they leave.  How many suspected heart attacks does he have to bring down from the top each day i wondered?  We made it to the top in a not unreasonable time (the Boy alternately counting and talking all the way - me just fighting for breath) and of course the view from the top was stunning: 3pm on a late Autumn afternoon with the sun going down and mist on the Thames - gorgeous!  There were more mad visitors ascending as we jogged back down again, one of whom climbed the last 50 steps expelling a vitriolic expletive at each step - luckily the Boy didn't seem to hear; he was busy counting again.  311 spiral steps in total and a certificate of achievement once you reach the bottom.  Our legs were turned to jelly!  We staggered across London Bridge and collapsed onto the train home.

Tougher than a gym session any day and probably superb practice for those big sand dunes in the Sahara!