Working on Level 27 of a floor to ceiling windowed skyscraper in the heart of Melbourne has its advantages. As I type I’m watching the sun rise over the city. Hot air balloons surround the building and pop in and out of the mist below. The light is golden and the whole scene looks just like heaven. If you add the shopping below, the mouth watering food on every corner and the espresso machine ten metres away you’ll see that it’s quite a contrast to the Hoog Catharijne in Utrecht (oh the memories!).
There is one down side. Fire drills. There are 810 stairs to climb down. EIGHT HUNDRED AND TEN. After not breaking a sweat for 18 months I’m terrified that I’ll collapse half way down, block the entire stairwell and maybe even make the newspaper. So in a typical all or nothing attempt to get fit I started boot camp this week and oh am I paying for it.
It involves getting up at 5.30am three mornings a week and being screamed at for over an hour. We start off with a 2km run then alternate between sprints, squats, sit ups and various other forms of torture. There are no breaks and any sign of slowing down results in the whole group being punished with 20 (unmodified) push ups.
Ouch.
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