I was taught several lessons by this week’s running escapades.

The first is gravity is not my friend and secondly, check your trousers before you try to sprint.

They are basic lessons I should have known about by now, but they are easily forgettable in the heat of the moment.

I finally managed to make it to a BodyFit class, hurrah! I introduced myself as a new member to Sam and coaches Tony and Jo.

The whippets were separated from the gazelles – such is nature – and when they galloped off, looking all lithe and athletic-like, we were left in the car park.

My compatriots, all of whom have been continuing their training, also looked all lithe and atheletic.

In comparison, I looked like a sack of potatoes. In my head, Sam had cancelled all classes because they were so distraught to carry on without me (lesson three – I am not the centre of the universe).

Of course they hadn’t and they had all reaped the benefits of continuous exercise.

We started with hurdles in the car park. This is where gravity failed me.

Tony and Jo asked us to jump over each of them.

There is normally a low set of hurdles and a higher set for the more confident.

I have a real problem with jumping. I’m just not built for it.

Like everything else I have in common with elephants – I just can’t jump.

After a half-baked attempt, Jo made me give it a go properly and I leapt over the first one.

I’d like to say it was with grace and panache, but just imagine the previously mentioned potatoes being thrown down a flight of stairs. You get the idea.

Add into that a complete lack of spacial awareness or balance and I nearly toppled over.

I fudged the rest of the set and didn’t even attempt the set of hopping which we were supposed to do next.

I feared for my safety and was regretting my return to BodyFit.

We were then doing a running sandwich. My ears pricked up at this point at the thought of food, but no, it was a steady run around Derwent Mills industrial park, followed by an all-out sprint, then a recovery run/jog/walk.

It was here my trousers let me down. They were fine for the steady run and the first 20 seconds of the sprint, then I could feel them slowly sliding down my hips and my belly was flapping in the wind (number of times I’ve been offered a seat for pregnant women while not expecting on public transport – five).

The next 20 seconds of sprinting, as I was getting closer to Jo and Tony, was spent frantically pulling up my trousers and pulling down my top to avoid flashing anyone.

I was glad it was still dark. Lovely Sue said to me at one point “have you lost weight?”

While I’d like to think my trousers indicate this, I have the sneaking suspicion that they’re just getting a bit old and the Lycra isn’t as tight as it used to be. It has, however, spurred me on to continue. I’ve bought new tights and everything.