OPINION:
Here's how our day began. I got up and made a coffee. He got up and hit the rowing machine. I resisted toast and had yogurt. He walked three miles to a meeting and logged the results on Fitbit. At 9am I got a WhatsApp from my long-suffering, very occasional personal trainer (leased from a friend who says I should be "doing weights") and told him I would commit to a training time just as soon as I'd checked some stuff. He offered Zoom. I said I'd see how the morning went.
Almost half of British women do no vigorous exercise, according to a new survey, while two thirds of men exercise regularly. The Lionesses may be just as fit as the Lions but an awful lot of us are not keeping up with the blokes and as one of the idle 47 per cent, I think I know why. Many will tell you these alarming figures are more evidence of the unequal domestic burden; we don't have time to go to the gym or roll out the mat on the kitchen floor. But as someone who is back to a two-person home, with not so much as a dog to walk, never mind a school uniform to iron, I have more time to exercise, more reason to (need to keep up that bone density), more self-care awareness than I had before lockdown, a husband who cooks, and I still can't get around to it.
"You've got to make it part of your routine," he says, nipping out in his running shorts (zzz), but women don't know what's going to happen from one day to the next. That's the giant difference between us. We don't have the luxury of a guaranteed sacrosanct time slot because during that hour we might have to ring our mum's doctor or explain to the middle stepchild how to deal with a wasp's nest, or talk down our friend who is waiting for test results and – whether we like it or not – these all take priority over exercise.