March 17. Day 76. Not in public

For many years, I was a group fitness addict. Step classes, Pump classes, Spin classes. The loud pumping music, the smell of sweat and someone shouting at me, I loved that (perhaps it was the similarity to my teenager's bedroom, but I digress). But even before I gave up, I had standards. There were rules, well one rule. Not in public. Getting all puffed and sweaty and hot and bothered is not a spectator sport for me. Within the confines of a gym with other consenting adults, fine. In the great outdoors, not so fine. Truth is I may have been enthusiastic but I was pathetic and the idea of members of the public watching was totally unappealing (the idea that someone might have been walking around with a camera ... well, let's not go there). Anyway while I don't understand it, I admire those with the self confidence for a bit of public exercise. This afternoon, the lawns of South Bank became a sea of yoga mats and Lycra for a free yoga class. There were downward dogs all over the place and with that many bottoms facing in his direction as we walked by my dog thought all his Christmases had come at once. And there's another reason not to exercise in public, says she who was, by her own admission, exercising in public. Yep, the irony isn't lost on me. I may not want to do it in a group on the lawn but a bit of exercise on a Monday is a great way of getting through the week.