Does everyone hate turbo trainers?
Four months til Wimbleball and our blogger is having turbo troubles and is yearning for his cardie and Upstairs Downstairs
We had two weeks of snow and ice in the Chilterns. Cycling outdoors was impossible. Well, not impossible, I daresay. But I was one of the wimps who didn’t try it.
So, in addition to the dull up and down in the swimming pool, I ran like a hamster on a treadmill at the gym. God, I hate gyms. And then I retrieved from the garage a turbo trainer that’d been lying forlornly (and expensively) unused.
Why is it that I can cycle comfortably and with pleasure for a couple of hours outside; and yet, after 40 minutes on a turbo trainer I collapse in a bored, sore-bottomed and sweaty heap?
And I had imagined that by now I would be starting to feel a little lithe and fit, jumping out of bed in the morning with a more athletic gait.
I wish I couldn’t, but I can remember what it feels like actually to be fit. A long, long time ago, when I was 21, I was a keen and very fit rower. I remember the feeling of wanting to run everywhere, because walking was so slow; of standing up on the pedals of my old bike all the time, because sitting down was an unnecessary luxury; of being able to eat and drink what I wanted and still have a lower than 10% body fat.
But now, instead of feeling fitter, my knees creak. The low-carb diet is making little discernible impression on my midriff. My heels hurt from fallen arches. And frankly, instead of climbing into Lycra, I would sooner put on my comfortable cardie and sit down with a cocoa in front of Upstairs Downstairs.
But spring is in the air, I have a proper cycle planned for the weekend and the forecast is for sunshine.
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