This evening Red and I tried a kettlebells class. I'd wanted to give it a go since I saw that very butch fitness instructor putting the contestants through their paces with them in 'The Biggest Loser'. And Red came along because....well, because I offered to pay for her I suppose. Plus we wanted to escape our numbingly-cold house for an hour.
This class is hardcore (as my colleague Staś would say)! I can feel my joints seizing up already and I know I'm going to be hobbling around at work tomorrow just like my residents. I had a nasty accident right at the start of the class doing something called 'Round The World' when I managed to throw a 3kg kettlebell onto my foot. The pain was excruciating, absolutely terrible. It was all I could do not to collapse to the floor and start blubbing. Luckily, I remembered just in time that I am Northern and we leave that kind of carry-on to Southern softies. I waited until I got home to milk my injury....for all the good it did me.
We've booked to go again next week, despite agreeing that it was odd the instructor, a man in his mid-forties would say that he was 'passionate about kettlebells'. We had a juvenile snigger over that....
