Totally pumped

I’ve been doing Pump for yonks and yonks and yonks.

I was going to say I love it, but that’s not entirely true. I dislike it less than other forms of group torture.

Pump is a gym class where you do exercises with weights on a bar to a soundtrack. There’s an abs track and a squat track and a triceps track etc etc.

I go to Pump every Sunday morning at 8am. I like how it’s all neatly sectioned into four-minute routines. It’s comfortingly familiar and apparently good for my bone density.

I can also walk properly afterwards, unlike when I did “Basic training” the other week, hobbled for three days afterwards and wailed in pain every time I sat down. Oooouch.

Pump is also where I met my lovely personal trainer friend Lianne. Her classes were a lifesaver for me when my marriage went belly up.

I exercised my butt off to burn away the trauma.

I’d arrive at her classes feeling close to the edge, then walk away thinking I could make it through the day.

Once I started working full time, that gym membership wasn’t getting much of a workout, so I’ve been trying to go to a few lunchtime pump classes at the gym near my office.

And those classes have made me realise I’ve become a cranky old woman because I stomp around having silent bitch sessions to myself about all the stupid things people do that piss me off.

Here’s the list:

> I hate it when people drop their loaded bar a foot from the floor so it lands with a loud crash. WHY DO YOU DO THAT? NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR THAT NOISE. I flinch every time.

> The other day, one of the bloody instructors started doing it too. Fume.

> What’s with the people who totally ignore the instructor when she tells them to keep their feet on the floor when doing push-ups?

> Actually, what’s with the people who totally ignore all the instructions they’re given about how to do the exercises correctly?

> It gets on my goat when people wear ballet flats or worse still do the pump class in bare feet. Surely that’s not safe.

> Speaking of not safe, the people who put the weights on their bars without the metal clip thingy to hold them in place. That’s plain dumb.

> And the people who let their sweat drip into pools all over the mat or floor. Ewwww.

>  There’s this instructor who goes all passive aggressive every single week because people don’t yell replies to her patter during the class. She starts loudly answering her own questions in the third person. Lady, it’s 8am on a Sunday morning, don’t make me talk. I’m just here to exercise. Lay off.

> I’m not all that keen on the people who invade your personal space either, putting their step and weights smack bang half a metre from yours. Give me some room!

> And the ones who load and unload their bars right beside the weights rack when there are 40 people doing the class. Load and unload at your mat, don’t carry 30kg of weighted bar across the room periliously close to my head then hog the rack as you fuss about.

Oh, I could go on and on and on … but I suspect this blog post has very little interest for anyone who doesn’t do Pump so I’m going to stop now.

Though I AM going to try and go to more gym classes, eat less food and drink less wine because I’m getting a bit of heft about me. The last thing I want to be is a fat 50-year-old leprechaun on March 17.

Can Kit Kat please stop making irresistible new varieties such as mint and salty pretzel to help me on my journey?

Song of the day: Technotronic “Pump up the jam”



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