Next time I start uttering things like "I think I might go circuit training," just remind me how much pain I'm in today. If I become insistant with lines like "But I really should get some exercise!" then just slap me. Repeatedly, and hard. It couldn't possibly be as painful as my triceps are today. I think the last time I was this sore through fault of my own was when I got friction burns off a mattress.

As if the concept of me doing exercise isn't difficult enough to get your head round, I did exercise wearing shorts. I very nearly didn't leave the house as I was worried that the glare off my fluorescent white legs might blind me as I made my way to my car. To make matters worse, I got about as far as Swiss Cottage and realised that when shaving my legs, I'd missed a spot. This problem was resolved about 20 minutes into the session when I got into a fight with an exercise bike and lost, nicely scraping the skin off my thigh. At least I didn't have to worry about the hairy patch any more. Some how I don't think depilation the Lisy Babe way is going to catch on.

I did generally manage to batter myself. Though apart from the exercise bike as razor incident, the rest of my cuts and scrapes I managed to acquire before actually entering the building. I've mentioned my inability to perform in front of an audience before, well...

I parked my car. Quite amazingly actually as I was squeezing into a space about two inches longer than my car, and there were people standing in the street outside Kentish Town Sports Centre, and I can't generally park if there's an audience or even a potential audience (in that someone might notice me out of the corner of their eye). La! So far so good. But then of course... I had to get my wheelchair out of the boot. Cue everyone within sight turning round to stare to see how The Lady With The Wheelchair puts it together. So, of course I drop my chair on my hand, take a chunk out my finger and then immediately drop it on my knee and make a slice in that too.

For god's sake, when will Endemol put a cripple on Big Brother so everyone can have their "I wonder how a disabled person does that?" questions answered and people can stop staring at me?

The session itself was alright. The circuit seemed much easier than when I used to go circuit training at the St Ivo, and not quite as good. Though, I did like the exercise bikes as a nice touch for some aerobic exercise seeing as I can't do jumping up and down. Perhaps it was a good thing that it was an easier circuit, seeing as I'm so unfit that it nearly killed me. An hour of blood pumping through my body faster than it's done for about 5 years. Fine, I can cope with that. Come to doing the cool down, the blood slows down it's frantic race around my system and starts to drain away from my head. Like I wasn't insecure enough being the only fat person in the room, and lets not get started on the slightly shocked looks at the sight of someone in a wheelchair going circuit training... I then have to come over all faint. Great. Fortunately by sitting still in a corner I did manage to retain conciousness, but how fucking embarrassing.

Another odd thing about going circuit training in London was how friendly everyone was. London is reknowned for it's not speaking, not making eye contact ethos, and here was I, going to a sports class and people were introducing themselves to me, talking to me and generally being friendly. I never experienced that at either the Ivo or at Impington. The instuctor did amuse me. To his credit he never once questioned what I was doing there, he just obviously accepted that I knew my own physical abilities, and that I had done this before. But then at the end of the session, I was talking to one of the other participants, and the instructor who had been so accepting for the last hour turned to her, pointed at me and said "Did you bring her then?" Because of course, I can do infinite sit ups, frantically pedal an exercise bike, I'm probably the most flexible person in the room - but I'm incapable of free thought or making my own way across London.

Anyway, I've done my exercise for this Millenium. I'm now off to see if I can still move my arms close enough to my mouth to put chocolate in it.