Diary of a Non Wimpy Mum
I approached my first class with a healthy dose of nerves – I can’t remember the last time I did any cardio other than walking, which, judging my spreading waistline, was not really doing the trick anymore. “It won’t,” Della informed me, as we watched our kids’ swimming lessons. “You’re over 40 now.”
Ouch. I found it easy to get a carpark at Rushcutters after dropping the kids at school and preschool and wandered down to the trees near the water for the 9.15 session, pulling at my old leggings, hoping the other women weren’t head-to-toe Lulumon.
They weren’t, thankfully, and were very friendly. Della took us through a thorough warm-up, then put us through our paces, with short bursts of exercises designed to target specific muscle groups. Despite the February humidity, which had nearly put me off attending, the breeze from the water was cooling and the setting was ridiculously idyllic, given I was planking, squatting, lunging and bouncing medicine balls with abandon. The exercises were swapped around so quickly we – again, thankfully – reached the end of the session quickly. It was nothing like the shouty bootcamps I’ve observed walking my dog through local parks.
As we stretched out, Della warned us newbies we’d be a bit sore for the next few days, and I was a bit, particularly across my shoulders, abs and inner thighs. It didn’t stop me from attending the next few classes. Della suggested we do a fitness assessment on the Sunday, which was a workout in itself, and included measurements and photos. Apparently I wasn’t the most unfit person in the world, which was greatly encouraging. I googled my measurements when I got home and was alarmed to find Google thought I was a man, due to the size of my waist and chest. I texted Della in a panic, but she reassured me I was very tall, and not to worry at all.
I had begun to really enjoy the workouts, vibing on the endorphins for the rest of the day – and the nutritional email advice has seen me swapping out vegemite toast for avocado, drinking more water and poaching chicken breasts to store in the fridge.
We’re halfway through the six-week program now, and although I can only attend the sessions three days a week, I can feel my abs tightening, and my thighs look better in skirts. Fingers crossed my measurements at the end of the six weeks convince Google of my femininity.