Gym and Chocolate Bars.

So last week, I was spontaneously bought two chocolate bars- one from an alleged sex pest who bought me a big galaxy bar from the Asda Ooops! section marked down TWICE to 25p then 20p; and one from a new chum of mine who is like an intriguing cross between The Mad Hatter and Christopher Walken.  Day one into the week and I have already been bought a big bag of Cadburys Caramel Nibbles- this time by a nice chap and new chum who was thanking me for the nice, hot cup of tea I had waiting for him following his meeting.  Score!!!

In stark contrast to this increase in chocolate-y goodness, I have been going to the gym now a couple of times a week for the past two and a half weeks.  I have found a new love for Rowing which I really seem  to enjoy as it doesn't tire me out too quickly but gives both my arms, legs and lungs a decent enough work out.  I'm also becoming more confident at using the various weight bearing machines to build up my muscles and strength.  All in all, I am really enjoying it.  I just want my overall fitness to improve so I can really get stuck in- at the moment I have a few concerns with my heart rate which will hopefully get better with time.  I miss punching though and am hoping to enrol on a combat class in the coming weeks. 

This reminds me- Following Friday in the gym, I had a night in watching Silver Linings Playbook on Saturday night.  It was a good film, despite a few concerns to the contrary at the start, but during the first half hour of the film, I noticed my heart rate was racing.  I ignored it at first, but I started to get concerned when I felt really short of breath.  Trying not to worry, I timed my pulse and my heart rate was a whopping 95 beats per minute- RESTING!!!! I was getting worried when an hour into the film, my heart rate hadn't decreased, and I decided that I may need to get on the phone to NHS direct to ask for some advice or seek medical help.... 

....  It then dawned on me- that beneath my skinny jeans, I had on my thickest,winter-iest, super-warm, woolley tights. 

Genius.  I'd been sitting there effectively cooking myself for an hour and a half, panicking that I was having some sort of heart failure, when in fact I was just hot.  Oh god, can you imagine the ambulance men turning up with the defibrillator to find me sat there in a jumper, and woolley tights UNDER my skinny jeans like a loon.  Once, removed, I was thoroughly relieved to find that my heart rate decreased to a far more manageable and less worrying 70 bpm. 

It really is a wonder how I've lasted 30 years.