The windmill worked wonders for my waist, but that’s about all I can say. Maybe if I kept doing them longer, I might see some more serious results, but seeing as how I pulled my back and tortured my neck doing them, the first time,. I think I’ll try something else.
To be honest, I’m really not a fan of workouts. I had one I followed for a little while, but when we moved, I fell out of practice. Ian goes to the gym, but I’m just waiting out spring so that I can get back on my bike. I like my exercise to have a purpose, like going to the store to buy chips. I like to get somewhere. I like to see scenery and I like to go at my own pace. And when I’m on my bike, I can daydream, I can sort through the day’s worries, plot new story ideas or just breathe deep and not think at all. When I do a workout routine, I’m just watching TV, which is something I do too much of anyway.
So maybe biking isn’t not ladylike, but it sure as hell beats laying on the floor writhing around like I’m possessed by Satan.