... and so it continues

Still fresh with motivation, exuding the very zest of self-improvement, I reach into the wardrobe. I am looking for something in particular. A T-shirt. The T-shirt. The gym T-shirt no less. The one that says 'Cardiff Rugby'. An exclusive T-shirt. The one that makes it look like I have at some point played rugby within the boundaries of the city of Cardiff (this is of course, only loosely true).

The point is that this is an attempt to balance out my lack of masculinity in the gym with a very masculine (and very Welsh man) accessory. It works before I even leave the house, and for a very simple reason. As I slip it on it feels tight. Tight, I tell thee!! Oh joy! It feels tight!! This must mean that I have put on weight in the all important Pectoral and shoulder areas. Cue the wolf whistles, orchestra please!! Strike up the band, I am off to the gym again!!

Of course, the reality is that the shirt is so old, its gradually shrinking in the wash. But no matter, if others are happy doing it, why can't I happily lie to myself now and again. You look great, you look great, I repeated as I skipped (Damn it!) out of the flat...I returned from the gym wondering if my adidas shorts were maybe now a bit indecent for thrusting in.

Anyway, enough of my thrusting. That's off the plan. And a very soecific plan it is. I am on Day 2 of a three session weekly cycle. I follow my plans in order, but I think that learning the plans is the real trick over the first few weeks. I do not want to stand in the gym with a ream of paper slowly working through it, so I find myself working through the plan before I leave the flat, and then memorising what I can. This will obviously become easier as the weeks progress, and my memory and concentration (allegedly, according to the research) improve with the benefit of regular exercise.

The addition of new exercises into my established routine is already working wonders for my motivation, and strangely so is writing the blog. I find that I spend that dead time between exercises (when you are never really sure what to do apart from strut and wave your arms) thinking about what to put into the blog, and playing with sentences.

Currently, the fitball is my nemesis. It just won't stay still. I watched a highly competent gym chap using the fitball and was in awe of the skill and control displayed, which I guess actually comes from his core strength rather than general ball control. I have realised that my core really isn't as strong as I had thought. I face planted twice this evening whilst attempting the jack knife. What a violent name for an exercise. I mean, jack knife, that's what lorries do isn't it all over the motorway, axles akimbo? And what a dreadful feeling to jack knife about the room with my own axles uncontrollably akimbo, in front of those incredibly fashionable big men I was bemoaning on Friday. But you know what, two days in and my skin is getting thicker in that respect. Maybe I will put weight on in that way if in no other...?