10-week fitness challenge the get-fit diary of an out of shape office worker
@steve_dinneen
IN SAM Mendes’ American Beauty there is a scene in which Kevin Spacey’s character approaches a neighbour for fitness advice.
“What do you want to achieve?”, asks the neighbour.
“I just want to look good naked.”
This is my answer when my personal trainer asks why I want to put myself through a 10-week program that includes a strict diet, total abstinence from alcohol and four intensive sessions a week at the gym. I just want to look good naked.
After just two sessions, I’m starting to wonder if looking good naked is worth all the effort. My thighs are burning so much I can hardly walk and I’m craving sugar like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve never looked at a Twix in the same way before.
I only agreed to do this because my colleague Alex Dymoke got spectacularly ripped doing the same thing with No. 1 Fitness last year and I’m competitive enough to feel the need to redress the balance. Well, that and the fact I’m 31 now and eating too much and not exercising is taking its toll on my stomach, and in turn my suits, which seem to get ever smaller. So here I am, preternaturally alert after my first sober weekend in recent memory, aching in a variety of difficult to reach places and thinking that 10 weeks sounds like an awfully long time…
One of the most surprising things I’ve found so far is the reaction of absolutely everybody I know. I’d expected some encouragement – a slap on the back for taking a stand, turning my health around, grabbing the bull by the horns and all that. Not so much. Responses have varied from “What? Why?” to “Well done, see you in 10 weeks”. I guess I can’t blame them – that’s what I’d have said last week.
Before I started the exercise, I was assessed by a nutritionist called Jess, who has banned me from eating anything fun for the rest of my life. That’s not quite true – my diet’s actually not that bad, bar the late-night takeaways and 12-course meals I regularly put away as this newspaper’s restaurant critic. Anyway: carbs are bad. No pasta. No bread. No noodles. Sugar is bad, too. I have a chart and it says that if something flies, runs (including, somewhat unhelpfully, “buffalo”), swims or grows above the ground, it’s probably OK. I think I can deal with that. I’m going to buy a blender.
The hard part is the fitness program. The gym, at the foot of the Gherkin, is small and only open by appointment with a trainer. This means it’s less intimidating for wiry newcomers like me. I was still faced with a room full of people who were far fitter than I am, though. Anyway, I made it through the session without dropping a dumbell on my head, which I’m counting as a partial success.
Visit no1studiotraining.co.uk or call Tower Bridge studio on 020 7403 6660 or City studio on 020 7621 1312.