Seven years later
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxRSLZXmOgPQeJ876YP0Q0uNqoqVyhdINR9hM3xGU5EdHIq-cRbrczoyXiOcJ3l2uE5QnpkwLsZoi0T245gLUDZrM2PJiGXEZNOwmI1h4EyN4ADV4je2i8L6YzggxDs-nyU1vdWY_DF8/s320/20180314_090531.jpg)
Seven years ago today I picked up a kettlebell for the first time. To say I was sceptical starting out would be understating it. At the time my sister and her husband had been running kettlebell classes ( before they went full on Crossfit) for quite some time . I didn't know a whole lot about it other than the fact that it was mad Russian shit involving a weight with a handle and that they both looked great. My very first workouts were in my sisters yard/ driveway. Body weight, a light dumbbell, a plate and a kettlebell . I remember it being very sore, very sweaty and running in a way that was apparently so hilarious that my brother in law used to come and watch it. That driveway will forever be known as the lane of pain to me. As I became less hilariously unfit I agreed to join in with some of the classes but I only participated in the ladies classes wearing loose t-shirts and tracksuit pants because i was too self conscious ( and unsure of my commitment to fitness) to