Less Zola, More Phoebe

We're MUCH slower than Phoebe...

I’m still running. Yes, you heard correctly!  It fell off the schedule in December, mainly due to excessive eating and drinking being my top priority over the festive period, but I’m back into it with a vengeance. 

And it has (gradually) got easier, I can now run for almost 25 minutes without stopping. This may seem paltry, but six weeks ago I could barely manage three. I've declined JT's request to join him on the 10k at the end of the  month, but maybe soon...

In addition to this, I’m…BOXING! Yes, boxing. After 3.5 years of boxing bootcamp I may not be Amir Khan but I do have a repertoire of moves, which we usually go through for fifteen minutes after the run.  Two things spur me on: 

The Route

Walk out of my front door, gaze up at the Burj Khalifa, cross over the road and head down to Burj Park. The most beautifully designed stretch of grass with paving, wooden decking, restaurants, cafes, bridges and…the world’s biggest fountains tinkling merrily as you go past. Step circuits at the Burj Plaza are almost enjoyable when Whitney is belting out ‘I will always love you’.

The Company

I find it almost impossible to run alone. Even my ipod chock full of early nineties house music struggles to keep me going. But with a companion I’m somehow spurred on. Oh, and it does mean there’s ample gossip opportunities.

Top running comments of recent weeks:

• “Does a pain in my shoulder mean I’m having a heart attack?”
• “I want to stop.” “When you want to stop think of skinny jeans.”
• “I want to stop.” “When you want to stop think of fat girls.”
• “I want to stop.” “When you want to stop think of Elle Macpherson.”
• “Please go easy on the sex noises when we’re doing the steps.”

If you see two blondes limping around Burj Park of an evening, do wave and say hello!

Pounding the Pavements

I’ve always been relatively active. Back in the UK I walked everywhere and hit the gym regularly – well it was only 500 yards from my city centre pad.  Fast-forward to Dubai and 12 hour days do rather eat into one’s exercise plan.  But given that one is in a bikini for 50 weeks of the year, it’s a constant and very necessary battle to stay fit and trim.

The solution?  Let me introduce an old Manchester staple: Monday night running club!  Yes, way back when I was thin as a whippet and had more time on my hands, E and I used to meet up every Monday and run around Chorlton Water Park.  Happy days!  It worked for a number of reasons: Mondays are not a staple of the social calendar so you’re unlikely to be tempted by offers of new bar openings or events, it was a regular date and it allowed for gossip and catch ups during the exercise.  Anything which tricks my brain into thinking I am not exercising is most, most welcome.

As Sunday is the Dubai Monday, we’ve decided to introduce this here. Let’s be clear, I’ve only been out twice so far.  But this is how good habits start, no?  Let’s also be clear: as long as the humidity is hovering around the 80% plus mark and the nightly temperatures remain at 39 degrees plus, we’re never going to be winning any prizes for speed or distance.  Quite the opposite. 

We’ve got a regular rhythm going: Let’s run until the traffic lights.  Or the roundabout. Or the ice-cream shop.  Or until we want to pass out (with the current weather conditions, this doesn’t take long.) 

I’m not going to lie, I’m not a natural runner.  My heart doesn’t sing as I pound the (marble) pavements.  But what I do enjoy is running past the beautiful buildings, sparkly palm trees and of course, the world’s tallest building.  And despite the oppressive heat, I’d take that over the cold wet driving Manchester rain.  And we ARE approaching winter.   I’m determined to go at least once a week.  Watch this space.

From Catwalk to Cross Trainer

Dragged myself to the gym for the first time in a week last night.  It wasn't pretty.  Amazing how quickly your body loses condition, despite you forcing it through more sessions in one month than you normally manage in six.  And call me old fashioned,but there's something about exercising when it's pitch black outside that I find particularly uninspiring.  Give me a hazy sunset any day of the week. 

Anyway as I slogged away, in an outfit that quite frankly, looked like I'd escaped from somewhere (and nowhere that considered fashion a priority), a couple of girls caught my eye.  They were slim, sexy, and swathed in body hugging lycra.  One was wearing an extremely short-shorts/leggings-underneath combo which looked as if it had come straight out of an MTV base video.  In short, they looked fabulous.  And so very Dubai. 

Now, I'm all for making as much effort as possible in Dubai: turning up to work in sheath dresses rather than shell-toes and boyfriend jeans, and heading for dinners and nights out in dresses that frankly, I would only have worn to a wedding in the UK.  But the one place where I am not prepared to dress up to the nines is the gym.  It's enough effort just mentally preparing myself, never mind having to overhaul the wardrobe too.  That said, my hand did just hover over the Stella McCartney Adidas range.  Fickle, me?!

Comfort Over Style?

Call me shallow, call me image-obsessed, but there’s nothing that motivates me to exercise more than a new gym outfit. Well, a cute instructor certainly helps too…as does having a good friend with me to laugh and spur me on…I digress. After all the bootcamping and walking to work recently my trainers (sorry, sneakers) are looking extremely dog-eared, and aren’t that comfy any more. Thankfully we’re in the middle of a shopping festival here in Dubai (other countries have cultural events, we focus on malls) and whilst this doesn’t usually float my boat – too many old sale items dredged up from the last time they had a sale, this time round there’s bargains to be had.


So it was with a song in my heart and a literal spring in my step that I muntered over to Dubai Mall with the lovely Vikki at the weekend and found a huge sale in Reebok. We kept the sales staff and security guard entertained and on their toes as we tried on no less than fifteen pairs each. Question: are you officially old when you buy trainers based on comfort and not fashion?!

Anyway, they were all so cheap (20 quid) that I bought two pairs. There’s a simple rule in Dubai: if you see something that you lie in a shop, buy it. You may never see the like of it again. Which is why I also snaffled up a gorgeous inky blue slinky dress – not sure when I’m going to wear it, but when an occasion does present itself, I won’t have to go hunting round the shops. Anyway, I’ve already worn one pair of trainers on the daily walk to work yesterday, and tonight I’ll be road-testing the second pair at bootcamp. When I say comfort over style, let’s be clear: they’re still gorgeous looking pink and silver things. Which co-ordinate rather nicely with the pink vest I snapped up. Did someone say shallow? Now if only I could pay attention to the rest of my appearance when exercising…I think that's a step too far...

Jog On!

Here’s a tip: after a month of zero exercise, an hour of gruelling boxing bootcamp might not be the best way to ease yourself back into mobility. But, never one to do things by halves, that’s exactly what I did last night.

You may remember that during Ramadan I was a lean mean gym machine, with at least four visits a week under my belt. Fast forward to normal working hours, where leaving the office at 7.30 pm is standard procedure, and my gym visits have dwindled somewhat. Call me old-fashioned, but after a long day I’m reaching for friends/wine/dinner, not the gym kit. Are you with me?!

The beauty of Dubai is that now the weather is getting colder (and by cold, I mean 34 during the day) it means that the evenings are positively gorgeous – 29 degrees last night. This means that all sorts of outdoor exercise and activity is now an option. Hence the bootcamp. There’s lots of these here – on the beach, in parks, all offering the chance to train in the fresh air (and in pubic view, which is why I’ve avoided them for so long.) But, to be fair, I have to say last night was an absolute hoot. I spent a large proportion of it laughing til I cried..(or was that the pain?)....

Yes, the first ten minutes were utter hell (my body really isn’t used to punching and kicking the living daylights out of someone after a 12 hour day) but we soon got the hang of it. Going with the girls made it all the more hilarious (what goes on at bootcamp, stays at bootcamp.) James, the cute burly instructor, did make a few sympathetic comments about our (lack of) ability: “Don’t worry, it doesn’t come naturally to some people”, and my favourite: “Oh, bless” after a wrong move saw me kick a dear friend almost in the groin. Sorry!

We left hot, tired, but feeling pretty virtuous. See you next week for more punishment!

Shape up, or Ship Out!

Call me easily influenced but thanks to a few of those ‘celebs lose weight’ stories on the Daily Mail I’ve been spurred on to throw myself into the gym these past few days. And cut down on the booze. And watch what I eat. I know! Me! Watch what I eat! Now, don’t be going thinking I’ve morphed into Hannah Waterman (bless her) but as I may have mentioned, Dubai doesn’t present the healthiest lifestyle, mainly because it’s so hard to incorporate movement into your everyday life. Back home I walked for an hour a day and made it to the gym at least twice a week. Here I walk about an hour a week, and the less said about the gym visits, the better!

One major incentive for keeping in shape here is that you're in a bikini every weekend (and some evenings!). Knowing that the general public will be able to gawp at bits you usually keep under cover does focus the mind. Lazing by the pool this weekend, it did cross my mind how body standards are not the same for men and women. Apart from one supremely fit and gorgeous guy (more on him later) most of the men at my pool are in far worse shape than their partners or female counterparts. No problem for them to let themselves go! And ladies, I'm sure we've all been there in our relationships, too.

All this healthy living does make you feel virtuous, I have to say. But there’s always the call of ladies night (free booze, in case you didn’t know). How many calories exactly are there in a glass of wine? As ever, it appears that size matters....