McManus and French

Recently whilst in the gym a very severe issue has came to my attention. Actually it has been annoying me for years but I'm just now going to get it out there. Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't the gym somewhere people go to do physical activity? Well why do these so called exercisers insist on parking so close to the gym entrance they have to climb out the passenger door. Honestly though, it happens everywhere. I used to work in a really top notch private health club chain. Out front of the club there was a circular drive for hotel drop offs, with a lovely little fountain. You would see Jags, Porches, top of the range Mercedes parked half on the kerb squashed at the front of the club. There was a whole car park quite literally 10 yards away but of course that's not good enough. Perhaps the gym should employ staff to come over to these cars with wheelchairs and push people into the club too. In the gym the other day I was on the treadmill minding my own business as usual when I saw a big family saloon car drive up and into a disabled space. Obviously as I always think the best in people :-/ never in a million years did I expect a fully ambulant legging clad elephant leg to step out from the car. I peered and peered but yet no motability badge appeared on that window. She hung about a bit, had a cigarette, you know just to open up the lungs for a workout and then her friend turned up.

Down the car park drives a people carrier as it screeches diagonally into the disabled space next to our legging clad smoker. Out jumps her equally sizable and legging clad buddy, bear hug ensues (really I can only describe it as a bear hug). But she has done one better. She is wearing the most illuminous lime green trainers. The type of trainers only a really good runner should wear. I was thinking to myself that I better get off the treadmill before they get in just in case they show me up for the phony runner that I am.

What annoys me about this picture is not that they have parked in the disabled spaces (well yeah it is this act is unacceptable) but that they have parked in the two closest disabled spaces to the entrance which means anyone who genuinely needs that space cannot use it. They didn't have badges before you say it. The Sherlock Holmes in me checked this. So unless sever inability to dress appropriately for your size can get you disability now then they bottom out right there and then.

Now here comes the ironic park. McManus and French came into the gym and went straight onto the treadmill. So the duo couldn't walk the length of the car park but come to the gym to walk on a mechanical moving pavement. It just tickled me slightly. Here is the best bit. To my disappointment French was not, I repeat not an common wealth runner in her citrus colours shoes. In fact she was so bad at walking on a treadmill that every time she wanted to talk to her big pal Michelle she actually paused the treadmill. And on that bombshell..............

Skipping Sensations

As you know I can go off on a bit of a rant from time to time, well today's post is a bit different, nothing has annoyed me, I'm not on my high horse (or pony as some of you funny buggers out there like to put it) I was in the gym this morning, running away on the treadmill with my Ipod plugged into it. I had the biggest smile on my face and was letting out a giggle every now and then. I have a reputation amongst the gym staff that I laugh at people, well it is totally unjustified because as it turns out, when they thought I was laughing at people I was actually laughing at you've been framed (honest). But today I was laughing at someone (yes I'm ashamed)I know it isn't fair but really I couldn't help it. Someone was on "my treadmill" (talk about this another time)so I had to take another one, one that doesn't quite have the same view I'm accustomed to. This particular treadmill has a view of the exercise studio and in that studio was a man in a grey t-shirt (great sweating colour)he had in his hands a skipping rope, but no, he wasn't skipping. Instead he was waving the ropes in a figure of eight in front of him, stern look on his face. I think he was psyching himself up because after a minute of doing ridiculously stupid patterns with the ropes he went for it, the skip, that first one, always the hardest, most challenging of all skips. Especially to this guy. He failed. . . fell forward a wee bit then started the flailing with the rope again. Another minute passed and as I watched again, there he goes, 1. . . 2 . . . 3. . . Ah Boll*cks. A small spurt of laughter erupts from my mouth. It's a free country OK! AGAIN with the stupid rope dance thing. This time after his minute of nothing he gets at least 5 skips and looks like a 5 year old girl with pigtails in a playground before stumbling aimlessly over the rope. 15 minutes he tried, and tried again, each time he failed he started his rope waving p*sh. When he did get anywhere near a skip the most he got was 8 jumps, ah mean come on! If he had spent 14 of those minutes actually trying to skip and not whipping a rope about the floor, maybe. . .Just maybe he could do 10 skips. Meanwhile I'm trying to catch my training partners eye as he is doing his weights, I have this freakishly happy grin on my face and keep making eyes at the studio for him to look. He is too busy in "the zone". It just tickled me, that's all.

Round bowls covered in lycra

I admit it, under my sensible personal trainer persona lurks a dirty secret. The deepest darkest secret ever, but your are privileged, I'm gonna tell you. Whenever I am in a supermarket and I see a magazine that says "How to get Gwyneth's arms" I grab it, I need to find out (it's the professional in me), I will read the story before even getting to the till, it's sad yes. But this information is stuff I have to find out! I know how to make arms look tight and toned yet somehow this way must be better. Some fantastic new concept that will change arms everywhere forever. It's amazing, these celebrities, their bodies, their time? How do they do it? Obviously your answer will be "Because they have a chef, a nutritionist, a trainer a dog trainer". But I have seen it, I've seen women who have it all yet still manage to not hold back the donuts when they are out of the watchful eye. So how do they do it? I do not know, they come from ratbag to ravishing in 5 minutes, easy peasy! Willpower of steel! This obsession is not cheap (but it certainly is cheerful), Fitness magazines are about £4 a pop and I buy Zest, I buy Health and Fitness, Women's Fitness, Ultra Fit, Fitness hers, I even buy the monthly Holland and Barrat magazine and when I can I go to borders and read their magazines, you're allowed to do that are you not? I do try to be sensible though. . . . sometimes I see "Get Britney's Abs" or "Get Colleens bum" and I think, yuk no thanks, come on magazine people your standards have dropped. Britney's stomach is nothing to be desired and neither is Coleen's bum for that matter. What I'm looking for is thighs honed like rockets, arms as taught as a squirrel's, abs so toned they could be used to model bat girls shield. I must find this exercise! That does all that and more, I must. I will not stop until my bum cheeks are like little rounded bowls covered in Lycra.

Magda Infliction

I couldn't believe my eyes at the gym yesterday. Well I would have if they hadn't been nearly taken out by the braless bazookas bouncing buoyantly on the treadmill. This voluptuous beauty was oblivious to the spectacle she was making of herself, but I can assure you, most of the male populace of the gym was certainly aware, including myself (for research purposes only). This is one of my pet hates (yes I have a few) when it comes to the female of the species in the gym. Please please pretty please wear a bra, do I have to spell it out to you? W.E.A.R. A. B.R.A! Please. Please for the sake of mankind and your breasts two years down the line. I mean it when I say down, in the literal sense. The only thing that's getting a workout on this lady is her coopers tendon, the anti-sag tendon or coopers drooper as I like to call it. There is no repairing this tendon, no "I must, I must improve my bust". It can only ever be tightened with surgery, so unless you want a "Magda infliction" (see. There's something about Mary) just wear a blooming sports bra. Boys tell your other halves because I'm pretty certain you didn't watch something about Mary and scream "Look at those puppies" when Magda got her baps out. And they most definitley did not say "Iwish I had boobs like her".