It’s 9.30am and I’ve just woken up, approximately four hours after my morning routine was meant to start.
You see, Victoria Beckham, who I will henceforth refer to as Vicky because it’s a nickname I feel suits her even though she would detest it, starts her day between 5.30 and 6am with a 7km run on the treadmill, before doing legs, arms and core work with her personal trainer. It takes two hours in total.
Yes, she does not one, but two entire hours of exercise every morning and I’ve decided to try it for reasons that include humour but also self loathing.
Have I already failed before I was even conscious? Yes. But would Vicky let a sleep in ruin her day? Idk probs not.
So I get up with the full intention of getting straight into this workout.
Speaking to The Guardian’s Weekend magazine, Beckham says her 7km cardio first thing in the morning consists of “a mix of uphill fast walking, jogging, running”.
“That’s the only time I watch TV – boxsets, documentaries – so I look forward to that,” she says.
According to Beckham, this run/powerwalk "takes 45 minutes".
It's almost 10am and while I'm out of bed, I'm also... hungry. It's a Sunday and frankly it would be rude not to take myself out for brunch. It’s also THIRTY FIVE DEGREES and although I’m sure Vicky is very committed, I think even she would cut herself some slack when it's very hot/very cold/very hungry/very tired.
Also, going to get food means I'll be doing walking, which is EXPLICITLY part of my exercise routine.
By 11am things are not going to plan.