Working (Out) From Home

I have decided to make a compilation album called “NOW That’s What I Call… Lockdown’. Featuring your favourite lockdown anthems such as ‘Girl, The Contents Of The Fridge Is The Same As Five Minutes Ago’, ‘Get Two Bottles Of Wine (Just In Case) ft. Gin & Tonic, ‘Where The F*** Is My Mask?’ and finally ‘Aaaaaaand Hold, Four, Three, Two, One.’ I know what you’re thinking, Leah if you’re fridge raiding and double parking the glasses of wine, holding a squat in your living room for four seconds is gonna make minimal difference. Well my friend, that is where you’re wrong. Home workouts have completely changed the game for me, as in we’ve gone from Scrabble to Spin The Bottle, exercising has never felt better.

If I cast my mind back to March I vaguely remember doing my usual germ ridden gym sessions right down to the wire. I wasn’t ready to part ways with that sweaty little petri dish because I was certain that no gym meant a (very happy) sedentary lifestyle for me. Ever the one to assume the worst I could practically see my progress slipping away from me before the doors of the gym even closed. Little did I know that as one door closed another door opened, a door that hadn’t been caressed by Corona; the door to my living room. Already the biggest hurdle of gym life was cut out, the commute! No exercise I will ever do in my front room will be as hard as the dreaded ten minute trek I used to do come rain (er… sometimes) or shine.

I initially resisted the home workout life, I sadly wasn’t a disciple of the Joe Wicks revolution, in fact that was the moment I learned there maybe is such a thing as too enthusiastic. I took my time to find the right trainer for me and my goodness the choice was vast. I really played the field, every day a different woman was on my screen. Single friends, is this what dating is like? It’s exhilarating if a tad exhausting. When workouts clashed and overlapped I felt like a dirty little cheat. How could I could give one woman my glutes and another my upper body? This went on for a few weeks until I found the woman I was ready to settle down with. She gave me everything I needed to keep me on my toes, from HIIT to Boxing to AMRAP challenges, we were a match made in heaven.

Home workouts really are designed for people like me. Now, we are not lazy. Never that. It’s just that on a bad day our willpower can be faulty and the volume on that little voice that tells us to keeping pushing for ‘one more rep’ is easily drowned out by the choir singing ‘Treat yo’self, you deserve a break sis’. We’ve finally been able to cut out the variables that may have taken their toll on our gym experience. For example, it does not matter if your waviest lycra lewks are in the wash, you can literally work out in your oldest knickers and ugliest sports bra if needs be. There’s no barbell bandits huffing puffing and consequently spreading C*VID all over you as you squat and lunge and star jump. I no longer have to pretend I’m totally chill about showering or worse still, towel drying my coochie next to a stranger. And don’t even get me started on the motivation the smell of a good home cooked meal bubbling away in the kitchen can provide for the final few reps.

I’m not sure I’ll go back to a traditional gym ever again. You know what? That feels dramatic coming from a woman who immediately crumbles into dust when faced with making literally any kind of decision that is the slightest bit definitive. Never say never I suppose. But I can certainly say that for the foreseeable future I’ll be sticking with sweating in my lounge as it’s one of the few things that has provided consistent physical and mental relief in this year that has been more brutal than a 60 minute burpee challenge.