Well, I didn't go yesterday. Woke up with stiff muscles all over and decided a rest day would probably be more appropriate. So it went:
Wednesday: aqua aerobics class at gym
Thursday: Ow, no I don't think I will today. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I think that was right. I think the Thursday might have been a bit too much. I intend to buy a decent pair of running shoes tomorrow which will cushion my feet rather better than my delapidated trainers (which have the foam coming out of them on the inside now). After that, I'll go back to the gym to try 'em out. That way I'll have got my five sessions in in the one week.
I'm finding out things about my body I didn't know. My left hand side seems to be weaker all down the upper body. My left shoulder clicks when I do light lifting either on the lat pulldowns or the chest press, and my wrist feels the tiniest bit sore - barely perceptible, but there nonetheless. It's probably good to take note of these things so that I get a better idea of my training limits.
I'm building up my treadmill time. I have never, ever used one or done any jogging of any description in my entire life so I'm building it up gradually, both in terms of speed and time. By the time I run the race in May I hope to be jogging easily at 10 km per hour for 25 minutes non-stop. Currently, my speed has been increasing proportionally faster than my duration of time. One of my first sessions was a 10-minute non-stop jog, but since then I've progressed to two lots of shorter duration at a slow jogging speed. Today I moved up to 8 km per hour and did 6 mins, 2 minutes' walking break, and the idea was to do another 6 mins but I couldn't take the pace and had to take another break. I ran the last minute at 9kph, though. The aim for next week is to do 6 and 6 at 8kph. Then I'll try to add in a third six-minute session. If you've read this far and have taken it all in, why not apply for a job as a proofreader? Britain's publishing industry needs people like you.
As I was doing my Swiss ball exercises, a lady "of a certain age" came and lay down on the mat with her personal trainer and he got her doing crunches. At first I wondered why she bothered paying for such a very expensive service; she really wasn't trying very hard and just kept complaining and saying she couldn't do it. Then I took a good look at her personal trainer, registered the giggles she came out with while she complained and realised she fancied the young hunky bloke rotten. I was perhaps disproportionately amused by this. I wonder how much she pays to get attention from this young chap? Maybe I'll do that too later in life. :o)