I finally conceded that a modest gym subscription would be sensible. At least, it would be preferrable to overdoing it with my knees, keeping up jogging three times a week. The new Heart of the Campus facility down the Crescent invites the local community to use its various amenities. This includes the professional-level Sports Centre. Having established that I was eligible, I then had to stump up some funds.
Now, our house family finances aren't too bright. Food, excess phone charges, gifts, trips to the cinema, repairing dinks in the cars and vets fees all pass without comment. But personal expenditure is under scrutiny. Mercifully, apart from my weekly cup of tea at the Choir, and even less regular Costa Express on the motorway, I hardly figure in the statistics. That reminds me: I need a hair cut.
If I paid by plastic, I could get a whole year's subscription for the cost of eight separate months. That takes me just up to August, and the Multiply trip to East Africa, in which I have to tote around 30kgs baggage in tropical temperatures. I couldn't lose out. Cheri, on Reception, was all smiles and helpfulness, but our blooming prepaid Kalixa card wasn't behaving. I left, apologising and frustrated.
After Andy, Malcolm and Andrzej agreed that the problem was that there wasn't enough money on the card, I had to have another go. And I had to book my Induction with the Personal Trainer, too. "It's a University. There'll be mixed changing rooms - and showers," I bantered with Steven while in Mary's earshot. 10.15am, Wednesday duly arrived, and a couple of guys helped me to work out the locker latches in the Mens room.
I sauntered into the main Suite and located the Trainer. I didn't get his name, but we'll call him Andy: he looked like an Andy, breaking into smiles through his blokish beard. He grabbed a Plan sheet, and began to grill me on my 'previous experience'. "How often can you come?" "Well, three or four times a week," I heard myself reply. "Good. I wouldn't have bothered with you if you'd said less than that. You're not ready for the free weights, yet." He ordered me to perform five minutes on a cross trainer, while he thought about the challenge I represented, and finished off his conversation with a slim lass doing impossible push-ups.
Then the machines. I'd never seen a Leg Press before. Andy slipped into the seat, and being about a foot shorter than I, made it look easy. Seemingly he was lifting the entire stash of weights. "Go on," he nodded. "And try not to lock your knees. Or crash the weights..." he added, after my first press. I contorted like a giraffe in a shipping crate. "Twelve of these; a minute's break and twelve more; then another twelve. And a bit faster. Okay?"
"Right. The Chest Press." I struggled. "Was that 25kg?" I smiled weakly. "Nine." He hmm'd. "You'll be alright." Across the aisle, guys heaved on monstrous bars and pulleys. And so we tackled the Pull Down and the Vertical Lift (only ten of these - an unexpected concession). "Right, get on with that lot," he smiled. Finally he despatched me to a Cycling machine for 15 minutes Aerobics.
Nearly an hour had passed. "That's your Plan." He waved the sheet and put it in a concertina file, under 'I' for Ian. "All the latest technology. Tomorrow, you do an hour's CV. Anything you like - Rowing Machine, Treadmill, Cross Trainer... Then it's the work-out Plan again. Got it?" I nodded, and stepped aside as a frail elderly gentleman negotiated his way from the doorway shuffling a zimmer frame. They are among the very best and trusted professionals, Hallam Active. And I will find out Andy's proper name. "Two girls helped me to put my socks back on," I lied to Mary.
Now, our house family finances aren't too bright. Food, excess phone charges, gifts, trips to the cinema, repairing dinks in the cars and vets fees all pass without comment. But personal expenditure is under scrutiny. Mercifully, apart from my weekly cup of tea at the Choir, and even less regular Costa Express on the motorway, I hardly figure in the statistics. That reminds me: I need a hair cut.
If I paid by plastic, I could get a whole year's subscription for the cost of eight separate months. That takes me just up to August, and the Multiply trip to East Africa, in which I have to tote around 30kgs baggage in tropical temperatures. I couldn't lose out. Cheri, on Reception, was all smiles and helpfulness, but our blooming prepaid Kalixa card wasn't behaving. I left, apologising and frustrated.
After Andy, Malcolm and Andrzej agreed that the problem was that there wasn't enough money on the card, I had to have another go. And I had to book my Induction with the Personal Trainer, too. "It's a University. There'll be mixed changing rooms - and showers," I bantered with Steven while in Mary's earshot. 10.15am, Wednesday duly arrived, and a couple of guys helped me to work out the locker latches in the Mens room.
I sauntered into the main Suite and located the Trainer. I didn't get his name, but we'll call him Andy: he looked like an Andy, breaking into smiles through his blokish beard. He grabbed a Plan sheet, and began to grill me on my 'previous experience'. "How often can you come?" "Well, three or four times a week," I heard myself reply. "Good. I wouldn't have bothered with you if you'd said less than that. You're not ready for the free weights, yet." He ordered me to perform five minutes on a cross trainer, while he thought about the challenge I represented, and finished off his conversation with a slim lass doing impossible push-ups.
Then the machines. I'd never seen a Leg Press before. Andy slipped into the seat, and being about a foot shorter than I, made it look easy. Seemingly he was lifting the entire stash of weights. "Go on," he nodded. "And try not to lock your knees. Or crash the weights..." he added, after my first press. I contorted like a giraffe in a shipping crate. "Twelve of these; a minute's break and twelve more; then another twelve. And a bit faster. Okay?"
"Right. The Chest Press." I struggled. "Was that 25kg?" I smiled weakly. "Nine." He hmm'd. "You'll be alright." Across the aisle, guys heaved on monstrous bars and pulleys. And so we tackled the Pull Down and the Vertical Lift (only ten of these - an unexpected concession). "Right, get on with that lot," he smiled. Finally he despatched me to a Cycling machine for 15 minutes Aerobics.
Nearly an hour had passed. "That's your Plan." He waved the sheet and put it in a concertina file, under 'I' for Ian. "All the latest technology. Tomorrow, you do an hour's CV. Anything you like - Rowing Machine, Treadmill, Cross Trainer... Then it's the work-out Plan again. Got it?" I nodded, and stepped aside as a frail elderly gentleman negotiated his way from the doorway shuffling a zimmer frame. They are among the very best and trusted professionals, Hallam Active. And I will find out Andy's proper name. "Two girls helped me to put my socks back on," I lied to Mary.
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