This is what I call a hero;
What more can I say – what a fantastic human being.
Ever since I started going to the Lifestyles gym here in Liverpool I’ve avoided using the waggley stick machine, otherwise known as a Cross Trainer.
The reason I’ve avoided them is, in part, due to the way you’re kind of walking but not walking. That just looks and feels weird for a start. Mostly, though, I’ve avoided them because of the way those waggley sticks keep coming right back at you. Where I come from that’s fighting talk. Or, at the very least, mildly disconcerting.
I’m not the most athletic of people, and coordination isn’t my middle name, either. So, to have all my limbs moving at the same time, whilst I’m trying to concentrate on walking, but not walking. Well, it just made the waggley stick machine look more hassle than it was worth.
Graeme had told me that they were very good for you. You’ll burn more much calories than you will running, he said. Someone else told me that it’s very low impact – much better for you than running on the treadmill. So, with those comments in mind, I’d made a point of wandering near the waggley stick machine on each of my gym visits over the last few weeks. Each time I’d fail to pluck up the courage to actually use it.
Yet, on Thursday night, I finally summoned the bravery to use one for the final ten minutes of my gym session. I picked one that was at an angle to the mirrors in the gym, which made it kind of difficult to see myself. I figured I didn’t want to know how much of an assclown I would make of myself if I didn’t have the knack for making them go. I’d seen people going backwards on them, seemingly oblivious to the fact, and I didn’t want to be doing that.
Getting started in the right direction seemed to be fairly straightforward in the event, although looking down to see if I actually was going in the right direction brought my head perilously close to the waggley sticks. I reckon I was making awkward work of it, being unable to keep up a consistent rhythm for some reason, but after a few minutes I sort of got my head round it.
Courtesy of sister Hazel giving birth to her daughter Abigail earlier this morning, I am now an uncle. Which makes me feel quite old, yet unwise, for some reason.
Mind you, brother Andrew became an Uncle when our daugher Elisha arrived last new year’s eve, so he’s now a double uncle and he’s not sixteen until next week, so everything’s relative.
Anyhoo, congrats to Hazel and Ian on the birth of Abigail – hopefully she’ll be as much of a bundle of fun as Elisha has been for us in her first year.