Do you know the one about Kiki who went to exercise?

“Yeah no, we are really going today.” I can still hear myself saying it to colleague Annabelle. She convinced me to join a bootcamp class in the park, and halfway through the day I wonder why on earth I said yes.

Actually, I have no choice at all. I have to. Project summer butt is still seriously far away and I am already signed up, which means people are counting on me (something that is always a good motivator). A few hours later I am back at Annabelle's desk. “Hey Bel, how hard is that whole bootcamping actually? On a scale of 1 to 10, let’s say?” She laughs. “I think a 9. Or no, an 8. Definitely an 8. But that’s only when you start, I think.” No, that’s nice. Still have to work half the day in the office, knowing that a few hours later I will definitely be hitting the f*cking EIGHT, or in other words, completely EXHAUSTED while jumping jacks (is that a verb?) in a monkey suit on a mountain. But of course, I won’t let that get to me. No, that’s for wimps and I want Sylvie Meis-butt or at least something close to it. So we’re going.

The only thing that’s not really practical about the whole situation? I didn’t bring my sportswear to work. Which means that after work (together in the car towards Utrecht) we first drive by Bel's house, I would then take the bus to my house, have about half an hour at home to dig my sports gear out of the depths of the attic and blow the dust off, then hop on my bike towards the park and meet Bel there. The whole schedule has to be calculated quite precisely, because otherwise we will definitely be late and the group will have left without us.

Once on the highway, the gas light suddenly comes on. Crap. “We’ll just refuel really quickly, okay? We’ll make up those two minutes later,” says Bel. Then our automatic payment system at the gas station gets stuck. We stand there screaming for eleven minutes that we are going to be late. Once in Utrecht  I can just barely catch the bus. At least, if that isn’t the damn bus that leaves two minutes earlier than planned. Ah, great, a fifteen-minute wait. Now only a quarter of an hour to change at home. By now, I’m definitely an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 in terms of grumpiness. I call Annabelle. “BEL, my bus just LEFT. YES. And now I have to WAIT A QUARTER. No, it’ll be fine, see you soon.” CRY. GROWL. HISS. BLOW. Fourteen minutes later I see my bus approaching in the distance. My old reliable bus 7 towards Voordorp, my saving angel. I take a step forward. Jesus, that thing is driving really fast. Okay, it’s getting really close now. Not really making any effort to stop. I wave to the driver. Helloooo?……. HELLO?! The man doesn’t respond and zooms past at full speed. With steam coming out of my ears, I decide to walk home.

Well, do you know the story of Kiki who went to exercise? Right, she didn’t go.