I've joined a self-defence class. My induction teacher Anthony - sorry, Sensei Anthony, had me do a few stretches, then got me in gloves while he stuck pads on.
"Gimme ten punches, left, right, left, right, then a front kick."
"Now hit the deck and gimme 20 press ups!!"
"AAARGH!!! ONETWO... THREE... FOUR!!!...."
"Get up! Ten more punches!!"
"Now get out your credit card and gimme a £50 joining fee."
I didn't particularly relish forking out the cash when I'm supposed to be saving money and putting it towards Xmas presents, but I got caught up in the moment.
Once I paid, I asked Sensei Alex, a disturbing Hollyoaks lookalike, if I could join the proper class.
"No. Come back next week."
I didn't expect that.
But I was so ashamed at my fitness - 10 pretty hefty punches and a solid kick, followed by 10 minutes of trying to catch my breath - that I'm pretty convinced this may be a good idea, especially as the days are getting shorter and colder. What a great way to lift my spirits.
Now if I could just give up smoking...