My quest to retain some level of fitness during isolation is being repeatedly undermined by my appetite. The days feel 43 hours long, and I am endlessly bored. Just yesterday, I went through our treat cupboard and found a two-year-old packet of flying saucers nobody wanted. I hoovered them up as if I were auditioning for Oliver Twist. I cannot concentrate when we are watching television because I am internally debating which breakfast cereal I am going to have as a late-night snack, while also weighing up whether I can be bothered to go and get it.
I don’t foresee these eating habits changing any time soon, which means it has become imperative that I maintain an exercise regime. I tried jogging, and almost immediately decided it is for people who hate themselves. Then my wife suggested we do a Zoom fitness class.
A lot of us are unaware of the variety of people affected by this situation, and fitness instructors have been hit hard. I do want to take this opportunity to say that I don’t think they’re suffering the most, because we have entered a phase where expressing empathy for anyone risks somebody else calling you out (“So you don’t give a shit about the NHS workers or the elderly, you filth!”).
But the point I am trying to make is that it felt good to support someone whose income has been decimated. Yes, I only paid a fiver, but it is now possible to accept a hero credit for the smallest things: I can say I am doing my bit for local businesses by ordering a Deliveroo, and last week I was proud of myself for using an instrument during the clap for the NHS.
My wife and I signed into the class, and I was immediately struck by the fact that this was far more exposing than doing one IRL. Everyone could see everyone, right in front of them, rather than being in among them, and I found myself wishing we had thought more carefully about the framing of our shot. It’s difficult to look very committed when your backdrop features 11 pizza boxes. I became paranoid about how untidy our house looked compared to the others, and realised how naive we’d been: the real workout is getting yourself and that bit of your house ready.
I selected “gallery view”, where you see everyone else in a grid. But for all I knew, the others stuck with the default view, which has the person speaking taking up the majority of the screen. This is fine in principle, except that it cuts to whoever makes any kind of noise. I muted us immediately, so that the screen didn’t cut to our house after an involuntary grunt or rogue fart.
The class was exhausting, and it felt weird to be doing that level of exercise in our kitchen. I was ready to stop far sooner than anyone else, but felt embarrassed to be seen taking a breather; instead, I pretended to accidentally star jump out of frame. There was the added issue that I apparently look ridiculous when performing any physical activity. My wife claimed the biggest challenge for her was trying to keep a straight face during my burpees (an exercise that no level of physical improvement can make worthwhile).
Despite all this, we will be doing it again. It is tough, and we have to tidy up beforehand, but last night I ate an entire Christmas pudding. Failure is not an option.
