Tag Archives: swimming

We’re Going to Need a Bigger Boat

I’m scared of the dark, there I’ve said it. I am a grown woman, mother of two whom I reassure and comfort from silly fears yet if I need to use the loo in the night I have to turn on all four lights en route to the bathroom. Last night we were driving home over 30 miles of moor land with only the car headlights and cats eyes in the road to guide our way. Having driven the same journey earlier in the day I knew we were surrounded by miles and miles of barren farm land with nothing but the odd house and herd of bewildered sheep for company. For the majority of the journey I was fraught with anxiety and consumed by thoughts of disaster and chaos. When the rain wasn’t pelting the car the fog was so dense that Geordie was reduced to driving at just 50 mph (insert sarcasm here) on the twisting narrow roads and obviously this did nothing to help my nerves, he was also getting very agitated at me telling him to ‘BLOODY SLOW DOWN’. All I was concerned about was not getting stranded out in the wilderness in the pitch black and had to busy myself with eating Cheerio’s and malted milk biscuits from our daughter’s backpack. I know my fear is silly, I’ve been ridiculed my whole life about it, Geordie says I’m scared of my own shadow, well who wouldn’t be..it’s dark!

My silly fears don’t stop there either. I watched Jaws with my brother when I was fairly young and since then I have been frightened of swimming in open water. When I go abroad or even on that one day a year that the weather is warm enough in the UK to warrant a dip in either the sea or lake, I can barely manage to get thigh deep before the panic sets in and off I run like a great white is nipping at my heels. I can’t even stomach one of those fish pedicure treatments, yuck. The thought of having fish swim around my feet and legs makes me very uneasy. My Mum tells me that when I was born in a suburb of Sydney, Australia she took me down to the beach at less than 10 weeks old and unceremoniously chucked me in the sea. I’m not sure how long babies have the under-water breath holding reflex but it’s no wonder I’m not a keen swimmer, Jaws has nothing on my Mum!

As a Mum myself I appreciate the importance of not imposing my fears on my children and our two regularly go swimming in the safety of the local pool without fear of me launching them into the deep end without so much as an armband.

NaBloPoMo

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Work It Baby

In light of my fitness epiphany yesterday I had a quick look through my wardrobe to find the remains of my sportswear. Co-ordination is still a key issue for me, despite the fact that I am going to sweat profusely and resemble a tomato by the end of the session. Ordinarily I stick to my faithful Adidas three-quarter length leggings, Nike sports bra and one of Geordie’s hundreds of long sleeve running tops. There is a bit of a monochrome theme going on, excluding my black and purple Nike Air Alvod 9, and I feel comfortable having tight-fitting pants but a loose top to run in. Geordie however runs like a tramp, not physically but in the complete lack of any style whatsoever. The last time we ran Sefton Park in Liverpool he started a full-scale row as I refused to go out of the house with him, he was wearing light blue TWO stripe shorts that don’t even belong to him, odd socks that I’m assured were white at some point in the past, a half-marathon finisher’s t-shirt (very commendable) and a pink Nike drinks bottle. In hindsight I suppose I could have used this horrific crime to fashion/sportswear as inspiration to run like hell and distance myself from him, but I couldn’t get as far as the front door in case someone saw me with him. Eventually he relented and changed the shorts!

Call on Me (Eric Prydz song)

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have willingly been to various aerobics, zumba and boxercise classes and spent more time comparing myself to others, feeling like a frumpy idiot than concentrating on the end goal. I have had to endure women my age in neon green leggings and leopard print leotards with matching hair band, pretty sure it wasn’t the video shoot for Eric Prydz Call On Me and it definitely was the local leisure centre class run by an elderly but super-fit lady. One of the hardest parts of getting back into public exercise for me is feeling confident enough in my work out clothes to go out in the first place. I’ve been guilty in the past of slagging off those gorgeous skinny mini’s who make running 10k look like a skip around Tesco and those who had achieved the mecca of female fitness, definition not muscles, think Michelle Obama‘s arms! Where as now I can fully appreciate that it’s not done over night, there really isn’t any quick fix and in the words of the late, great Roy Castle, dedication is what you need. If I see anyone out running/jogging now my first thought is always ‘Good on you’ because they’re already doing a damn sight more than me, regardless of what they are wearing.

I have dusted off my Adidas THREE stripe and have blanketed Twitter, Ebay and GumTree looking for a child bike seat in preparation for the 5X50 Challenge, if I’m getting fit my kids are coming along for the ride.

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