A Cattle Prodder
I started lockdown with all kinds of good intentions regarding exercise but a couple of weeks ago I started to cheat. Preferring to stretch in Pilates and Yoga sessions, I neglected HIIT and weights sessions.
With my gym membership I have access to an App that invariably tells me that my lifestyle is very active. Had I logged into it last week, I'm sure it would have told me that my lifestyle is now comatose with nothing recorded to persuade it otherwise.
The truth is, I need a class booked and a Gym Instructor breathing down my neck to really press myself. With indoor leisure activities likely to be the last to re-open, there was no choice; drastic action was needed. I have bought myself a cattle prod!
Well that's not quite true, not the cattle prod bit anyway. It's actually a Fitbit but when I read that it would issue an alarm every hour if I hadn't moved, I did have visions of being subjected to electric shock treatment courtesy of the humble farmer's prodder.
Perhaps it would be better to regard it as some kind of third party surveillance, strapped to my wrist rather than my ankle, for it records my every move. There is no longer any form of escape. This is the Personal Trainer that you both hate and desire, and yes it even goes to bed with you. I have been forced to up my game.
Actually I'm quite proud of myself, I think I've only been prodded once and no it was a simple vibration of the device rather than electric shock therapy. It seems every aspect of my life down to my resting heartbeat is now being monitored.
If I have any complaint about it at all then, whilst happy to know that my cardio fitness is excellent and my sleep pattern good, I really did not want the accolade to be spoilt by the "for a woman of your age" qualification. However, you can't have it all ways and the fireworks to tell me I've achieved my goals for the day are a nice touch!
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