Now I’m only falling apart.

I struggle to understand (and please try not to read this in a sneering, condescending holier than thou tone of voice) why people feel the need to spend, what is it these days, £45 a month, to go and exercise in an air-conditioned room, often underground, often windowless, often with others there for somewhat more dubious reasons, when for the princely sum of about £20 a year, one can join a running club. Yes, you’ll say, running only deals with the legs, but there’s tons of other stuff you can exercise with to develop other parts of your body. Heck, even the Guardian the other day published the Squaddie’s Guide to Beasting, otherwise known as the British Army Fitness Guide…

Well you see, there’s no way on God’s earth I’d join a running club. (Mainly because I run like a twat.)

And in a gym you are at least out of view of the general public. (Sweating and panting and near-collapse isn’t a look I wish to share with anyone but those foolish enough to be dying with me.)

But in some respects you’re right - they are hateful, nasty venues. I’ve never met one I liked. (Although that said the changing rooms are a great leveler for those of us with low self-esteem.)

But do you need to sweat and pant and nearly collapse (in a gym, anyway….)? Are you of the “no pain no gain” persuasion?

It just happens that way naturally.

Or it did on Monday.