THE coronavirus crisis has turned our world upside-down.
We went from living our lives with unlimited freedom, to almost overnight not being allowed to leave the house apart from essential activities.
And while it’s certainly had its perks, such as saving bucketloads of money and spending quality time with the fam, there have been many downfalls - obviously the economic impact being the worst.
On a less significant and personal level, there is the boredom.
For nearly two months, we have been told to stay home to avoid spreading or contracting the deadly disease.
There is only so much hide-and-seek, truth or dare and Game of Life I can take.
And I swear, if I slip one any more cards left on the floor I’m going to snap.
So, what do you do when you have all the time in the world, nowhere to go and nothing to do?
You eat of course.
Eating out of boredom is a problem of mine. And I have been happily supporting local business by ordering takeaway as well as using the extra time to cook and bake more.
And what happens when you eat, do little exercise (apart from riding to work when I’m motivated enough) and have an enabling boss who gives you chocolate at three o’clock on publication days?
Well, when you’re 40-something with the metabolism of a sloth, the weight piles on.
God, I miss my younger years when I could devour what I wanted and still managed to look like I hadn’t eaten in a week.
Nowadays, I just look at a bowl of ice-cream and put on 5kg.
And when those stretch jeans can’t seem to stretch any further, you know it’s time to take control.
It’s all fun and games until the jeans don’t fit.
I thought a personal training session might be the way to go because I would need someone to push me when it all became too hard and I wanted to throw in the towel.
I was absolutely terrified at getting back into it, considering the last time I ran was at the 2018 Sweat v Steam (where I smashed 5km in 32 minutes mind you).
Yeah, I know. What happened, you ask? I’m not exactly sure but I know I had fun doing it.
Anyhoo, I felt slightly better when Ayla asked to join me.
Since her swim club lessons were cancelled, my teenage daughter was after another form of exercise to stay fit.
Last Thursday was our first session and I had originally booked in an hour before our PT advised me we should probably start with 30 minutes.
Well, if I had even managed to do 45 minutes let alone 60, I would likely have ended up in the emergency ward.
After a 30-minute session, which included a warm-up run and four rounds each of leg, arms and core exercises, our muscles were on fire.
But that pain was nothing compared to what I felt the next day, the day after, and the one after that.
I couldn’t walk properly; and the noises coming out of toilet when I attempted to sit down was so blood-curdling, my daughters wondered if I had seriously injured myself.
Once I got the nerve to get on my bicycle, the agony shifted to my buttocks.
It wasn’t until the following Thursday that I started feeling normal again, which just happened to be our next PT session.
Walking into our next session, I was (literally) shaking and then almost fell down when I saw what was written on the board: 100 squats, 100 HR push-ups, 100 band kick outs, 100 ground 2 overhead, and 100 fire hydrants.
And if that wasn't enough, a 30-second plank every four minutes.
Turns out it was a joint exercise, so we only had to do 50 each, but I still wasn't convinced I'd walk out of there alive.
Not even convinced I would walk.
Miraculously, not only did I make it through, I actually did better than my 13-year-old daughter. Which I will happily brag about until next week.
Look out Ninja Warrior. Ivy is on the warpath.