Less than five minutes after starting, the monitor on the cross trainer registers my heart-rate at 153 – I can never remember whether it ought not to exceed 200 minus my age or 220, but in any case was too busy imagining and putting into words the end of a confrontation between hero no.1 and heroine to worry about it too much.
Nine sets of weights, three sets of twenty repeats on each: too much thinking causes me to lose count so I frequently over- or under-exercise, and too often forget which machines I’ve already been on. I hurry round without pause because I need to get home to write it all down.
The treadmill has a chart of maximum heart rate for cardiac or fat burning exercise: after five minutes of a hill programme mine exceeds that of a 30 year old, which I think is probably a bad thing rather than a good one, but I am also composing a ‘losing her virginity’ scene (for the second time to hero no.2) which might have something to do with it. I also suspect the heating is set too high. Straight home no change no shower no lunch until all salient points, all apt and crafted phrases are noted down.
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