Woodland Workout?

I wanted to talk to you about was my dalliance with the gym last month after four years of Covid abstinence and swearing I'd never go back. It was cold, grey and miserable outside with the kind of rain that prevents you from feeling your face. As I gazed out of my window at home it occurred to me that perhaps I could pop over to the gym, and do my walk there. Obviously this seemed like an excellent idea at the time, and before I knew it I was in front of a young receptionist, wide eyed (me) and perplexed (him). Once we had established that the price he had given me for a one-hour drop in session was indeed in pounds sterling and wasn't for the whole month, I was allowed through the electronic doors to the promises of third floor splendour. I have no idea what they would have asked for if I'd wanted to use the spa and pool too. My fingerprints to sell to the CIA perhaps? 

When I'd originally thought this was a good way to get my steps in, I had visions of a huge view over the nature reserve and a sense of peace with aircon instead of sleet. What I got was a view of the car park in the pitch black, rather loud unidentifiable thuddy music, and a queue for all the machines. It all made me feel even older than the transaction with the receptionist had. 

Not to be deterred, I managed to nab a running machine and selected 'high intensity leg sculpting'. Ha! Five kilometers later and I'm back in the car and I have completely forgiven Mother Nature for giving us cold and grey. I have since found my waterproof walking trousers, and will not be going back to the treadmill. What I missed above all else was the trees. Never say never again, but I reckon the cold and wet is worth it to be out in nature, where there's no queue for the mud and you can have a hot chocolate in between hills. 

Postscript: the legs are looking no different.