Fitness stinks

Yes, yes, I know we all set outlandish goals for ourselves when it comes to keeping fit. 'Why, yes, of course I'll be at the gym six times a week.' Chances. The likelihood of anyone sticking to a set training routine, especially on their own, is immensely slim. We've all tried it, and we've all failed (sometimes before even starting!).

So it's with trepidation that I embarked on my first boxing class in, oh, months. I've done boxing and other martial arts before, so I knew the ropes. I had the gloves. I was determined.

Ooh, and now I'm paying for my eagerness in lactic acid-induced pain! Not surprisingly, the 30 minutes of skipping wreaked havoc on my pristinely flabby 'muscles'. All the bouncing around after that didn't help either. When it came to the actual boxing, my body was probably so stunned at being actually moved around that it forgot about itself - I felt fine, ready to go toe-to-toe with fellow students in a sparring match. Well, yes, as you can predict, I didn't land a single punch; my body simply forgot what it was doing. Got hit plenty, got humbled, and went to go hit on a bag for the rest of the time (it didn't fight back). All seemed well on the drive home...

...cut to this morning. I'm trying not to move my calves as I type - in fact, my whole legs if I can help it. When I walk I look like a bandy-legged cowboy. At least the stiffness in my back is keeping my posture upright.

Why is getting fit so hard and unpleasant? I don't understand it. It's no wonder people retreat back to a world of lower calories just to make up for a lack of sport. I did read once that you were considered a reasonably fit person if you just walked around a bit every day (taking stairs instead of elevator, walking the dog, walking not driving to the nearest convenience store, that sort of thing). That doesn't sound too tough! In fact that sounds very pleasant, my shattered abs tell me.

No! I must be strong! I must get fit!

Tomorrow.