Could it be possible that I miss my commute? Am I really pining for a bit of blatant elbow shoving and the suffocating heat of the underground?
Yes, actually. Why? Vanity is the simple answer. To clarify: Because it was a bloody effective (and my only) form of daily exercise, and I loathe to admit it but I may have gained several centimetres on my hips since the commute became a part of my former life.
I was a serious pro in commutersville. I had my journey planned down to the last second, which of course gave no time for error/customary delays and frequently saw me running to make the several connections required in order to arrive at work on time. Hence, a great work out.
Thinking about it, my commute offered every type of exercise a girl needs to maintain her figure.
Cardio: Running for bus, running from bus to train, running from station platform to tube, running from tube to office.
Resistance training: Maintaining perfect balance on said bus, train and tube, whilst simultaneously checking phone and reading book.
Working up a sweat: Northern Line. 8-9:30am.
Increased lung capacity: Holding breath on aforementioned line when faced with proximity to a large armpit.
Poise: Learning to stand a millimetre apart from all surrounding passengers but under no circumstances ever touching them.
Step and tone: Storming up and down escalators, barging those who dare to stand on the left out of the way as you go.
Weights: Heavy handbags/shopping bags ensure upper arms remain toned.
You could even take it a step further and introduce chin dips or pole dancing using the abundance of cylindrical shafts in the tube carriages. I wouldn’t recommend in rush hour but it’s something to consider.
So what are you waiting for? All you need to do now is set a PB, try to break it on every journey and watch the pounds disappear.
Don’t thank me, thank TFL.
