86 Days In - Little Lifeguards

As part of the “using my recession-given time to better myself” plan, I am aiming to be an Orange County fitness goddess. I doubt that I will achieve my aim, but the summer holidays are here, and there are golden, teenage bodies by the beach-bucket load to inspire competition.

Those of you who have never been unemployed should not underestimate how the simple exercise of getting yourself up in the morning and working through the day can keep your fitness levels up.

Digressions aside - the weather is now such that I can no longer jog in the morning (unless I get up at 5am, which I am not willing to do - not even for the perfect bottom). So I jog in the evening. This does not carry the same “it’s only 9am and I have already achieved something” satisfaction that morning exercise does, and there are often partying families still on the beach to watch me.
Nonetheless, I am secretly pleased at this turn of events, because anything is better than competing with the Little Lifeguards.

Pre heat-wave and school-holidays the morning run was a calm, cool and breezy experience. At this time of the day you meet old couples walking hand in hand by the waves; you get to see the set-up of the beach club, with beach-tractors pulling trailers of chairs, and the employees raking up seaweed. The cool air comes in off the sea and the seagulls chatter amongst themselves.

Hopefully I have built enough of a picture for you to be able to imagine my surprise, and then fear, when I spot a group of pre-teen totties dressed in matching red costumes (actually true) heading to the part of the beach that I run along. At this point I am still up on the cliff, and could abort, but I am stubborn, and have come this far. From my vantage point I can just make out the shrill cries of “come-on team” emitting from keen teenagers trying to earn a few extra bucks by leading a Summer School.

Yes. Summer School. The tikes choose to join this boot camp.

Some busy and important mother said to her little darlings: “which camp would you like to go on this vacation Junior and Taylor?” And they have screamed at glee at the idea of spending the mornings of their precious school holiday on a beach doing sit-ups.

As I continue down to the beach, fear turns to horror as the eager little bunch pause from their (somewhat further than mine) run. They are now waiting in my path, ready to snigger hatefully into their neighbour’s ear and point at the bright pink lady hobbling past.

By the time I am on my way back, they have done sit-ups, press-ups, star-jumps and run like lemmings into the sea. Then they skip off happily back to where they came from. I follow in their wake, relieved to have not been exposed for the fitness-fake that I am, and secretly hoping that they were as impressed by me as I was by them.

I doubt they were.