8:41pm Wednesday 10th June 2009
By Alice Wright - Reluctant Housewife
As I walked along the cold seafront this morning pushing Baby in his covered buggy, being battered from all sides by wind and rain, it occurred to me how much I had changed. A few years ago I would never have done this; if possible I would still be in bed with a cup of tea and enjoying a biscuit or two with Baby. In fact I would probably have come up with any excuse to avoid what I was doing and where I was going. Where was I headed? Not to unavoidable work, not to a meet a friend I hadn’t seen for ages – no, I was going to the gym!
This isn’t unusual for lots of people, plenty love going to the gym and would walk over hot coals, never mind endure a bit of early morning rain, to make sure they get their regular fitness fix – but for me the road to the gym has been long and torturous, and definitely one less travelled.
I started going back to the gym about three or four months ago – it had been a year since Baby had been born (I didn’t want to rush it) and I could rest on my ‘just had a baby’ laurels no longer. Plus I still hadn’t started back at work and was finding the 24/7 baby experience slightly wearying by now so started to look around for something I could legitimately do by myself. A gym membership would address my body issues and mean Baby got some non-mummy stimulation. Thankfully I found a lovely, friendly, cheap gym nearby that had a fantastic crèche and so I was back on the treadmill.
After three sessions with a Personal Trainer (which revealed I wasn’t a lost cause and running around after a little one had actually kept me quite fit) I assumed I would fall into a regular routine of dropping Baby off with the lovely nursery nurses downstairs while I sat on a bike upstairs reading Grazia before languishing in the sauna for a bit. For a while I did just that and got some quality people-watching time in to boot; I regularly noted the active pensioners who spank the hell out of the rowing machines in their comfortable shoes and the airy-fairy yoga ladies who swish their long blonde hair around as they swing their arms from side to side. There are also plenty of other mums in there – falling into the yummy category for sure, they delicately hop onto the running machines in their pink lycra (matching buggies in reception) before lifting dainty silver weights high above their ponytails. Still, the good thing is everyone is taking care of themselves.
I like watching the regular girls like me who are trying to lose some weight, get a bit fitter and do something for them. Wearing baggy black t-shirts and roomy jogging pants they diligently try each machine before settling into a regular routine, but as their confidence grows and weight gets lost suddenly its all brand-new gym kit and bright white trainers.
Soon my precious non-mummy hour or so actually became more about the working out than the time-out and I started getting into the feeling that exercise gave me. I’ve begun to take it quite seriously and I’m enjoying it – and yes actually feeling bad if I can’t go. Now I am back at work part time I find fitting it in quite hard – so am stuffing in an hour here and there between Gymboree and Tesco and even during family weekend time. I put on a bit of make-up too, not quite sure exactly why (especially as it gets showered off straight after) but I like to assume that it’s because I am taking it seriously, plus I am nearer 40 than 30 these days and every little helps. Shows how having a baby has changed my opinion of myself - before I had Baby I would never have considered putting on make up for a work out! Now maybe I won’t be seen without my slap because I don’t want others to assume I have let myself go just because I have given birth?
I used to attend an exclusive, well-kitted out Soho gym that was frequented by the great and the good of the media world, a smattering of celebs and incredibly glamorous sex-workers (who used to do their cardio in little more than bikinis and lipstick) but I still couldn’t really take it seriously (and I never wore make-up!). Seeing a trainer once a week for a natter about famous people she had put through their paces and then the odd visit for a pad around the pool or a few minutes in the steam room to sort out a hangover. I certainly didn’t get fit, but I did have somewhere to go after work to get ready for a night out.
So what’s changed? Why all this enthusiasm now? And what’s with this mornings early morning trudge in the rain to get there? I can’t really put my finger on it, but I know it must be about me putting myself back out there again after a quite intense period of being Mum. Seeing the changes in my body and fitness has become quite a seductive pleasure too, I don’t want to be an unfit mother – my son is already shaping up to be an extremely active little chap and I might have trouble keeping up with him! PLUS I still enjoy the fact I can get an hour or two just to myself. Anyway, I must go the postman is here, I think my brand-new gym kit has just arrived!
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