The other night as I chased Martha around the room in a vain attempt to get her ready for bed we fell into the usual routine.
She disappeared down the stairs, pyjamas in hand, as I stood quietly behind the door ready to shout “boo!” when she crept back in. Laughing hysterically she launched herself onto her Looby Lou Cabin Bed and proceeded to jump up and down.
I watched and waited as she bounced herself into a giggling stupor, knowing she would be so tired after five minutes that I’d have her tucked in and snoozing in no time.
"No wonder she's so trim despite all those goodies she puts away", I pondered. I then contemplated diving on myself, perhaps I could shed an ounce or two! Then I remembered in horror Martha's bouncy birthday party just a few short months ago…
It was a disastrous, trouser-splitting episode which I vowed would mark my last foray into trampolining but then here I was contemplating it once more. This time I would have all the right clothes (and undergarments) and would book to join a properly organised fitness class.
I hate exercising but am aware I should really do some. The trouble is it just bores me. Treadmills, spin classes, cross trainers, yawn yawn yaaaaaaaawn...This was going to be different.
I was a little self conscious as I arrived with my reluctant friend in tow but as we waited to step onto the trampoline park I saw that we blended in well. There were no supermodel types, no over-exposure of toned, tanned flesh and best of all, there was an undercurrent of kinship between the participants as we glanced at one another, smiling supportively.
We started off bouncing lightly to “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen, a rousing anthem if ever there was one and before long I was flying, giddy and weightless with a stupid grin on my face. “This is a doddle” I told myself.
Wrong. By the time Queen had finished, I was done for too. How children do this for hours on end is beyond me. They must be completely mad. The grin had gone, the legs were quivering and I was gasping for breath - but I’m not a quitter (I kept telling myself!) and soldiered on. I just bounced a little lower until I could muster up any more strength. Any strength at all to be precise...
The clock on the wall in front of me didn’t help matters. It seemed to be going backwards, sending me into a mild panic that I could NOT POSSIBLY stay on this trampoline until the big hand had done a full 360!
Somehow I stayed put and just got on with it. Laughing hysterically one minute then grimacing with the sheer effort of jumping the next.
When it was all over I have to say I felt exhilarated that I’d made it through. Had my arm been long enough I would have given myself a pat on the back. Had I been the owner of a trumpet, I would have been blowing it non stop. In short, I was chuffed. And didn’t everyone know it. You’d have thought I’d climbed Everest without oxygen, backwards, or swam the channel whilst wearing ski boots perhaps.
To add to all this was the revelation that I had burned no less than 600 calories!
That’s at least three cupcakes, surely?
I will definitely go again but in the meantime I plan to try out some of my new exercise skills at home. I’m sure our Little Lucy Willow beds can take it...Move over Martha. Now where did I put that Queen cd?