Militaryish Fitness sort-of

Very few people can get me out of bed before 6a.m.  In fact, most people tend to avoid me until I've had at least 2 cups of tea.  Nevertheless, my very lovely, persuasive and charming neighbour is managing to get me to Military Fitness at 6.30 in the morning quite regularly.  Because she lives opposite she knows I'm here.  Once I tried hiding in my bedroom but she still found me. 

So there I was yesterday in my baggy sweatpants, saggy t-shirt and 2 bras because I couldn't find my sports bra.  The other early morning lunatics are about 20 years younger than me and wear t-shirts proclaiming '10K 2012' , tight lycra shorts and proper trainers (the soles are peeling off mine, which really doesn't help.)

There are about 20 different forms of torture, each lasting 60 long seconds.  Then we do it all again.  Some forms of torture involve a stepper.  Some involve sandbags or weights.  Some require mats.  Surprisingly, getting down onto the mat and then up again doesn't count as an exercise, even though it can take me nearly a minute to do either.

I have my own versions of the exercises: some I do properly but slowly; some I do partially; some I just point in the same direction as my peers, and wave a limb in a vague parody of the true exercise.  I keep a very tight control on my inner giggler; I don't want to be lynched, especially by such strong, fit people.  Sometimes I laugh for quite a while after I get home.

My various injuries shout at me during each session.  My left ankle (torn ligaments, sixth form ball, 1984) tells me to ease off.  My left wrist (sprain, roller skating at a house party incident 1990 - the sprain barely noticed at the time as it was overshadowed by the rather serious concussion) won't tolerate any kind of push-up activity.  My right foot (fracture -running down stairs in clogs while 5 months' pregnant, 2000 and exacerbated by recent plantar faschitis) shrieks in agony.  My right big toe (proper sporting injury as I broke it falling over a step machine in 2010) grumbles and aches.  My left knee (no specific injury - yet) really doesn't like squatting.  In fact most of my body objects to this activity.  Even my ears ache from the high energy dance music - perhaps a bit much at 6.30a.m. 

However, the trainer is relentlessly positive and encouraging; no-one points and laughs at me (not to my face anyway); by 9a.m I've done an hour's fitness training, walked the dogs, cleaned the kitchen and had a shower.  And I feel virtuous.  Now, pass the cake.......