Lazy Mother: from sofa to Lycra

Ali Thomson - 29 Mar 19

So last night at the gym I turned to my sister and said: ‘ Oo. I really want to try this kettlebells class!’

She looked agog. It was totally unprecedented..

EXERCISE: it’s always been an absolutely massive non-starter in my life. A hobby that other people did, but one that I could never fathom the appeal of. Knitting? Yes. Willow basket weaving? Absolutely! But forcing myself into a gym/park/pool to move rapidly and sweat extensively is something I could never entertain, however much everyone banged on about the endorphin-riddled rewards. To quote the little girl in 80’s favourite Three Men and A Little Lady: what a crock! I just really like lying down. Always have. And especially now, as mother to one boisterous, barmy boy – I just want to get as much idle time as is available to a working mum.

I’d read about the gym-going thing. Friends had told me how it had happened to them. But because of my dreadful lack of self-discipline to commit to anything more strenuous than finishing a pack of chocolate digestives, not once did I think I could develop an exercise habit. Yes, I’d gone for that singular, lonely run on a bank holiday Monday in 2016, but then I remembered the annoying fact that for running to be beneficial, it’s best done on the regular – so I stopped, because…well. Lazy.

It clicked following some big life changes, myself nearly 40, split from my son’s dad, and pretty damn unfit. Having steadily gained a couple of stone since producing a kid, I found myself wistful at the memory of my whippet-thin days when I could literally eat (and wear) WHATEVER I WANTED. Oh, heady days….because when that changes, you’re forced to see yourself through new eyes, and after an exercise-free life I was increasingly uncomfortable with what I saw. Unable to run for a bus without becoming a sweaty, heavy-breathing beetroot is bloody embarrassing, and as a newly single person embarking on a new life phase, this didn’t align with how I actually wanted to feel: strong, in control, healthy and, one day, y’know, dateable.

So now, two years on, from my little running experiment, something has really changed in me, and it feels a tiny bit like a personality transplant (but one that I’m quite enjoying). After 38 years of unrivaled resistance – aside from the occasional comatose swim or half-arsed Davina session forced upon me by an annoyingly energetic sister – I’ve dug out my ancient leggings-slash-pyjamas, knackered Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and neglected gym membership, and inexplicably find myself frequenting the gym, sometimes even on a thrice-weekly basis.

I mean, it certainly does help that it’s called ‘The Spa’ – any place with a name like that is always one I’m going to want to spend time at – but that’s neither here nor there….I’m finally into exercise and it’s great. Sporadic yoga became a mash-up of yoga, pilates and – once – a stray ‘pure stretch’ class (I’m nothing if not consistent in my love of the low-impact). It was all going quite nicely! Then the energetic sister popped up again, and dragged me to a body pump session – thus far strategically and very consciously avoided – and with that, I was super into weights. Weights!

‘I think I love weights!’ I yelled at her as I collapsed on the discombobulating equipment. I’d completed about 37 % of the routine, but felt like a total winner.

And as I built up to two+ classes a week (and hit H&M for proper and rather lovely ‘activewear’) I’ve started to feel in control of not just my health and body but also, weirdly, my life…and now I’m one of those crazies extolling the virtues of exercise. Have I yet ventured into the terrifying-looking gym room? Hell no! But as I’m discovering, you’re allowed to start new things whenever you darn well decide to. In the words of Arnie, who I’ve pretty much become by now: ‘Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength.’ Preach!

Ali Thomson

Human female, mother, book-lover

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