PAT MCDERMOTT: the highs and woes of exercise
Who knew that a new fitness routine would turn into a massive exercise in restraint?
Afew months ago, the MOTH (Man of the House) announced he’d bought “us” a stationary bike – even though he knows the idea of pedalling furiously and getting nowhere leaves me cold.
“Actually, it’ll leave you hot and sweaty. You’ll feel great!” he said.
Social distancing meant the MOTH had been missing his much-loved gym workout and his twice-a-week swim at our local pool, so I wasn’t surprised when I saw two young men struggling to carry a huge box down the path and up the steps to our terrace.
They set it down gently outside the study window and wished us luck as they waved goodbye.
The MOTH unpacked the bike and stroked the seat proudly.
Big and black with a shiny silver trim, the bike was menacingly attractive.
There was a 400-page instruction book, but the MOTH knows a lot about bikes that go nowhere. He hopped onboard, pushed a button or two and settled into a steady rhythm.
I’ll admit I was a little jealous. That night I set my alarm so I’d wake up early and beat him to the bike. At 6am, I climbed onto the seat and read the warnings on the control panel:
• Overexercise may result in serious injury or death.
• Consult a physician before using equipment.
• Heart rate shown may be inaccurate.
• If you feel faint, stop immediately. “So, not a lot of encouragement then,” I muttered.
I pushed a few buttons. Nothing happened. “Start pedalling!” shouted the MOTH. He was making a pot of tea and watching me from the kitchen.
“And hold the handles to see your heart rate,” he reminded me. I held the handles and slowly began to pedal.
The screen lit up, lights flashed, my heart rate was rising, the seconds ticked down, the kilometres were mounting and I was burning more and more calories! I loved this huge black bike! So did my knees. They moved smoothly, pumping up and down without any pain or stiffness.
I felt 18 years old again. On that first morning I pedalled a whopping 6.22km.
“How good is that!” I thought.
But the bike told me I’d only used up 159 calories. Not enough to burn up the two slices of toast with honey that I’d eaten before starting. I vowed to do better tomorrow.
The next day I was up at 7am and on the bike 10 minutes later. Bike ordered me to ‘pedal faster’. Bike suggested I do ‘fat burn’, which sounded messy, and ‘hill climb’, which sounded dangerous.
The MOTH and I began getting up earlier and earlier to beat each other to the bike. We are so fit we might actually be dangerous!
The next step, my daughters told me, was to shop for ‘activewear’.
“Lycra is the answer to everything,” they said. I was peddling away on the bike in my new jungle-print leggings when our eldest son dropped in for coffee unexpectedly.
He says from now on he wants a ‘trigger warning’ if lycra’s involved because there are some things a man never wants to see. His mother in lycra on an exercise bike is one of them. AWW