Tag Archives: mornings

No need to be naked

This morning, I had a meeting with Nike. Initially, I misread the email, so thought the meeting was from 8.30-10pm. i had been told I could bring a guest, and, unable to find anyone decent who wanted to be awake at such a hideously early hour, I invited my Mother.

As it turns out, it was less of a ‘meeting’, and more of a ‘Train to Run’ class, with an ‘Nike Master Trainer’. This was annoying for several reasons, the first being that I had to stop laughing at my Mother for turning up in running kit.

The class was a Women’s only training group.

I personally can think of few more competitive, judgemental situations a person can put themselves in. Luckily, I had brought my Mother. We had a perfectly splendid time, falling over in the balance drills, yelling in the strength portion, laughing while we failed to understand the partner training bit.

By the end of the hour, we had achieved the perfect ‘instantaneous-move-from-lounging-to-doing-the-proper-exercise-because-the-coach-was-approaching’ manoeuvre, and were feeling tremendously proud of ourselves.

‘Quick,’ I whispered to my Mother. ‘There’s going to be a rush on the showers.’ In a burst of speed unseen in the actual running class, we dashed from the studio to the changing rooms.

I grabbed my towel, my Mother grabbed someone else’s washbag, and we hopped into the showers. ‘This is not my washbag,’ My Mother called out to me. ‘I know,’ I replied, slathering myself with the fancy free shampoo attached to the wall. ‘I thought you were upgrading.’ Apparently she was not, so she hopped back out of the shower and returned with her own toiletries. (I personally feel that everyone uses far too many toiletries. There is only one thing you need in a shower. Shampoo. It is the all-purpose washer. Think of it as the ketchup of washing. It goes on everything).

Due to my Mother’s unusual approach to other people’s possessions, I had plenty of time, bored, fully-dressed, in the female changing room. Here are my observations:

1. No-one is able to look elegant when trying to remove their knickers whilst holding a towel around their waist. It is the most ungainly and attention-drawing position of all poses, despite the forced nonchalance of the performer’s face.

2. There are women who, if I looked like them naked, I would never ever bother to clothe myself, but instead occasionally, Anna Karenina like, drape the odd fur across my exquisite body if I felt chilly, yet are bizarrely shy in public changing rooms. (Naturally, as they hid in the corners and tried to change without an ounce of skin being on show, I sought to put them at ease by staring at them and smiling broadly).

3. I am all for body-confidence. However, there simply is no need to lovingly blow-dry one’s hair stark naked. it is almost impossible for the women who are sharing your mirror to apply their eye-liner in a straight line.

4. Not enough women, despite my continued, bullying efforts, are wearing matching underwear. I am considering spot checks on the tube in the morning. I am pretty sure Boris will back me.

5. My Mother takes forever to get showered and dressed. I am not sure if this is because she is tall, or because she is old. Either way, I had very much outstayed my ‘casual observer’ position by the time we left the changing room. I hope you all enjoy these insights, because I’m not sure I’ll be in a position to make any more anytime soon.

 

Gil took us through drills from Nike Training Club’s new running specific classes. These specialised drills will be available for all runners free through the Nike Training Club app and Live classes around the UK –
http://www.facebook.com/NikeTrainingClubUK/app_129270587159812

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Morning songs

Yesterday was ‘Blue Monday’, so I spent most of the day humming ‘Blue Monday’ to the tune of ‘Blue Velvet’.

For those of you who don’t live next door to me, it was a little like this: ‘And it’s bloooo Monday, yes yes I should get up. But it’s blooooo Monday, my bed is so warm and I’ve just knocked over a cup.’ (It was a glass really, but I think artistic license should be allowed). ‘Oh bother, that’s not wwwaaaater, it’s diet coke. How apt for bloooo Monday’. I was having quite a marvelous time (apart from the spilled diet coke, naturally. That was infuriating).

My phone rang. ‘Hello!’ I said cheerily. Except I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet that morning, so rather than the optimistic greeting I hoped would fall out of my mouth, it was a slightly groggy croak. I’m not even sure I said ‘Hello’. It might have been ‘MMhum’. ‘Are you still asleep?’ My therapist asked me. ‘No!’ I said promptly. ‘I have been extremely productive this morning.’ (Luckily my therapist began speaking at this point, because I’m not sure how well-received my ‘Blue Monday’ song would have been. Sometimes, my therapist is extremely grudging about my achievements. She barely cared at all when I finalised my definitive celebrity crush top 10. It’s something we’re working on).

‘You sound like you’ve just woken up,’ she continued. ‘You know it’s 11.30am?’

I didn’t know that, actually, because I had recently spilt diet coke over my watch, so it was recovering in a bed of Kleenex. I wondered if my therapist was watching me. I pulled my duvet up to my neck, just in case. (I’m not suggesting my therapist is an uncontrollable pervert. Just nosy). ‘Anyway,’ my therapist continued. ‘I’m very sorry to do this, but would you be able to come 30mins earlier to our appointment?’ ‘Is our appointment in the morning?’ I asked quickly. ‘Because that’s when I do my best work. If not, certainly.’ I’m so accommodating. I’m also terribly excited for today’s morning song, ‘Goodbye Lucy Tuesday’

(to the tune of The Rolling Stones’ ‘Ruby Tuesday’).

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Monday mornings

To be honest, Monday mornings don’t fuss me. I mean, I’m not one of those terrifying people who bound out of bed to greet the new week (I hate those people actually- their bounding always jostles me as I’m trying to sleep), but I definitely don’t think Monday mornings are the worst. Wednesday, that’s where The Bangles ought to have focused their attention. Wednesday is rubbish. It’s still a good three days from the weekend (unlike Thursday and Friday, which are basically the weekend*). You’ve already slogged through Monday and Tuesday, and now you have to get up and go into the office again? I realise that my weekly surprise at this does show a somewhat below average experience to learning ratio, but what can I say? I’m perennially optimistic. One Wednesday I’m going to wake up and it’s going to be Friday. Or a mid-week bank holiday. Or my boss will call and say, ‘Don’t come in til 10 today, Wednesday mornings are the worst’. Or I will find an E.T. like-figure cowering in my wardrobe and suddenly be so excited I won’t even care that it’s a Wednesday morning. I’m just saying, there are many options. Plus I read in a magazine that it’s important not to get stuck into a routine. So I check my room very carefully before leaving in the morning. Because the last thing you want to come home to is a dead E.T. That’d be the worst re-imagining of a childhood classic ever. I bet even Russell Brand wouldn’t touch it.

*Please don’t tell my boss this is how I view 2 of my 5 working days

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