Well, not put off by Wednesday's first ever gym visit, I decided to go back again on Thursday. Busier and fuller of beautiful people, I began to regret it. And fit blonde was there again to my left, sprinting on the treadmill as if her life depended on it.
I allowed myself a moral victory as she gave up before I did - she may have already been there for an hour but I didn't care - I trudged into my tenth minute of jog/walking while she threw in the towel. Hah!
Not a great stint for me - I could feel I wasn't going to do very much, so I decided to up the speed to see if I could cope. I think I coped, but I soon stopped, so I don't know if that was the right test. I don't like those full length mirrors - every man likes to see breasts bouncing in a mirror in front of him, but not his own ...
(Eurgh ... I promised myself I wouldn't write that!)
And of course when I did give up only a few minutes later, I turned round to see the blonde pounding the exercise bike - standing up as if to suggest it couldn't go fast enough for her. Marathons are for wimps - we've got a triathlete on our hands here. Oh well, my next stint on the treadmill will be back to my enclosed garage at home, with no beautiful people, or mirrors, to act as distractions.
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