Not Screaming But Shouting

I've now had five sessions at 1 To 1 Fitness Studio in Napier over the last couple of weeks.  Why?  Principally to strengthen my legs in the event that I have my knee replaced sometime soon but also to get my legs fitter because they were getting very loathe to move in the morning which at my tender age was not a Good Thing.  I'm not very good at self-motivation when it comes to things like gyms which is why this is a good option: no slacking and the whole of your fitness regime supervised and monitored - a sort of shared personal trainer service. 

Anyway, I digressed.  I was obviously a bit fitter than I thought because even on my first day before they upped the hardness regime I had no real difficulty with the equipment which involved the cycle, cross-trainer and the walking machines.  Upper body exercises and weights were quite another thing and my muscles screamed for me to stop and only my stubbornness managed to get me to the end of each set exercise: just.  Until today.  Today on the worst exercise (crunches) they just shouted loudly.  Wow.  Progress.

As I was doing the crunches and realised my muscles were not screaming but shouting I thought of what has become one of my favourite poems:

Not Waving But Drowning
by
Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.