I’ll be honest, I only went along the first morning because Hannah asked me and I didn’t want to let her down. The last class I did was aerobics in a parish hall in about 1994. Leg warmers, the lot.
What I didn’t expect was to be puffing after ten minutes of what looked like standing up and sitting down. That was a bit of a wake-up call. I’d been telling myself I was grand because I walk every day. Walking is lovely, but it turns out it does very little for getting up off a low sofa.
There’s always an easier way and a harder way to do everything, and I’ll admit I stuck to the easier one for most of the first month. Nobody passed any remarks.
Now it’s three mornings a week in the diary and I don’t move it for anything. I’ve gone up to the harder version of the squats. I can get down to the bottom press in the kitchen and back up again without hanging on to the counter, which I couldn’t do at the start of the summer. I can get up off the floor without a performance now. Small things, but they’re the things that matter.
