Warning: Unless Body Attack rocks your sporty socks to the extent that it rocks mine, the below might leave you in a slight state of bafflement.

It’s been a busy old working week, but I’ve little remarkable news to report.

Unless you consider Tuesday’s Oscar-worthy catching-of-train remarkable.

You’d like to hear the story?

Really, though?

Oh go on then.

But you ought it know that I’m an appalling story-teller.

Tuesday’s gym timetable reads “Body Attack”; the greatest workout class in the history of sweatathons. Being that I have an hour and 45 minute commute and finish at 6pm, the 7:15pm class is, for the most part, tricky to attend.

Tricky, but not impossible.

This in mind, I made a mad dash for the underground (running through central London in clackers, why not) this past Tuesday evening after escaping Office Towers a crucial few minutes early. Despite a deal-breaking nine minute wait for the tube (“Operational Problems”), I flattened myself up against the door so I could be first off.

And, with one minute and 10 seconds to spare, first off I was.

Wo-man on a mission, I sprinted up the empty escalator, burst through both sets of ticket barriers (just why do they need to double up?) and legged it up the two flights of stairs. As I reached the platform- the number of which I’d guessed- the whistle blew and my heart sank as I braced to turn the air blue with foul language.

But then, then my friends, the gorgeous glint of one remaining open door caught my eye.

It was through aforementioned open door that I flew seconds later, with the Ticket Chappy as they closed. The impressed look on Fellow Commuter’s face confirmed that it was a feat reached in SPECTACULAR style.

I whipped on the old lycra in the train loos (had it with me, just in case), ran Forest Gump-style to the station car park and definitely did not ignore the odd speed restriction en route to the gym. Ahem.

Bloomin’ made track 1’s warm up didn’t I! The class was technically full- a thrilling story for another time- but having broken records that evening, I set my own class-size rules and got sweating with a smile.

Nothing I love more than making those high-intensity lunges against all odds.