I used to be quite fun, honestly. In my twenties, my friends and I went out religiously, the only exercise I did was dancing, and yes, it probably showed. In my early thirties, I flirted with the odd cardio class or shuffled around the park, which turned into entering a 5k race, then a 10k, then, in 2015, the year I got married, the New York Marathon. But things slipped when my first baby arrived. Four years later, after another, I was firmly back at fitness square one, not knowing quite how to start again.
I was, however, blessed with a second baby who liked to start the day before 4am. Those are long, lonely hours, pre-dawn, so I started filling time by doing 20-minute
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