Sir Steve
So, I signed up to the gym.

I hadn't been inside a gymnasium since I broke my best friend's arm in a bizarre vaulting horse accident in school, but I put this trauma behind me and ventured into the room full of torture equipment.

After nodding through the safety briefing, I spent the next few visits tentatively trying out the various implements, until I set my sights on the rowing machine.

There, hammering away ten to the dozen, was a familiar figure. Man-mountain Sir Steve Redgrave, in fact. Jesus, he gave it some punishment in what he said was "won't keep you long - just a bit of a warm-up".

Hardly breaking a sweat, he strolled off and left the rower for me.

Well... if it was THAT easy.

Jesus, I gave it some punishment.

I rowed and rowed and rowed until I was knackered. Looking at the stopwatch, I realised I'd only been on it for 45 seconds, and I was half dead.

Not to be put off, I kept going. And going. And going. Until I was sick down my front.

I crawled - CRAWLED - back to the changing rooms, was sick some more and left, never to darken their door again.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 15:17, Reply)