Four Workouts and Very Little Drama—Except in the Activewear Department

Dear Body,

Here we are again: another week of showing up and doing exactly what we agreed we would do.

Four workouts a week? Check.

Ten thousand steps a day? Baby check.

We are not quite there yet, but according to Garmin Dearest, I took more steps than last week and closed at 87% of my goal.

That is practically an A, right?

Actually, let me upgrade that baby check to a respectable three-quarter check and clap for myself enthusiastically.

Yay!

I may even have earned myself a new badge: Consistency.

The swim this week was a slower one—2 minutes and 39 seconds per 100 metres, nowhere near my Week Seven pace. Nimo would not be impressed.

But I covered the distance, and some weeks that has to be enough.

Speaking of the pool, Bogotá decided to test my new love of walking in the rain.

Normally, I do not mind it. Everyone here just gets on with life, umbrella or not, and I have started to enjoy the walk home after a swim—dripping in a completely different way than usual.

But today, my bag had other plans.

Wet swimsuit, wet towel, goggles, the works. Suddenly, it weighed about as much as my resolve to eat clean this week.

With the rain coming down, dinner nowhere near ready and the family expecting the healthy meal I had confidently promised before leaving, walking stopped sounding romantic and started sounding like a bad decision.

So, Uber it was.

And that is how I went from a peaceful, quiet swim to becoming a guest star in somebody else's family video call.

In Bogotá, there is a strong possibility that, in what feels like eight out of ten rides, your Uber driver will spend the entire journey talking to someone on the phone. Sometimes the call even becomes a video call, and you are invited into the conversation.

"Esta es mi esposa, salúdala."

"This is my wife—say hello."

I always say hello, of course. I have manners.

And it is not only Uber drivers who are on the phone all the time.

At the gym, everybody is on the phone while working out. And no, they are not scrolling through Instagram or TikTok. They are literally talking to another person for the entire workout.

They lift weights while talking.

They walk on the treadmill while talking.

They move from machine to machine while talking.

It is not only the women. The men do it too.

Dude!

Who are all of you talking to for an entire hour?

Now that we are getting this routine thing down to a T, I have started noticing other things too.

For context, my gym is in Bogotá, Colombia.

Bogotá may not be Paris or Milan, but it is undeniably fashion-forward—a city of independent designers, beautifully layered outfits and people who appear to have dressed intentionally, even when they are only going out to buy bread.

And yes, this extends to the gym.

Now that I can confidently pick up weights and return them neatly, know the difference between kettlebells and dumbbells, and can adjust several machines without calling for adult supervision, I have had time to observe my surroundings.

I even know where to find the disinfectant wipes and remember to wipe down the machines when I finish.

Basically, I am almost a professional.

Unfortunately, this new confidence has also led me to suspect that my gym wardrobe may not entirely match its environment.

The women at my gym arrive looking polished, coordinated and very intentional. Their leggings match their tops. Their shoes understand the assignment. Even their ponytails appear to have a strategy.

Then there is me in the corner: five feet seven inches tall, wearing either a "Kibaki Tosha" or "Sisi Ndio Sifuna" T-shirt, some perfectly respectable tights and appropriately branded sports shoes.

There is nothing wrong with the outfit, technically.

But you do not need a designer to tell you that perhaps it is time to go gym shopping.

So, off to the malls I went.

Bogotá is a serious shopping city. If you want something, chances are you will find it here. Many of the major international brands are represented, alongside department stores, local brands and sports retailers such as Decathlon.

In other words, I was spoilt for choice.

You know the confidence I have built in the gym over the past seven weeks?

That was the confidence I carried into the shops.

Someone should have warned me.

In most of the sports stores I visited, the largest women's size available was L—and even that came in a limited selection of designs. Decathlon had a few XL options, but perhaps only three or four styles.

My size, in case you are wondering, is XXL.

After walking in and out of nearly every sports shop I could find, I finally accepted the advice of the very kind sales assistants:

Check online.

Apparently, many of the larger sizes are available through Amazon and can arrive in Bogotá within three to six days.

Very convenient.

But I would still like to enter a physical shop, select something attractive, try it on and confirm that it fits before involving my credit card and an international delivery network.

Is that too much to ask?

Still, this experience was far kinder than my attempt to buy gym clothes in China several years ago.

The shop assistants would see me approaching and immediately begin shouting:

"No size! No size!"

Surely, I could have been shopping for my daughter. Or a friend. Or even buying stock for biashara.

But no.

According to those ladies, someone my size had no business even looking in the direction of their merchandise.

Too funny.

But seriously, why does it become so difficult to find attractive gym wear once you move beyond the regular L-and-below sizes?

Who decided that only smaller people want to work out?

Business-minded people, please listen carefully: someone needs to establish a proper plus-size activewear brand with physical stores where customers can try on the clothes.

We should not always be redirected online as though our sizes are specialist equipment that must be ordered from a remote warehouse.

On days like these, I really miss Kenya.

Our beloved Toi Market comes through with clothing for everybody—in all sizes, all colours and at extremely friendly prices.

And credit where it is due: Decathlon Kenya carries women's activewear up to size 4XL in its stores.

Bogotá, we need to talk.

For now, the workouts are increasing, the steps are improving and my activewear options are being shipped from Amazon.

Even my clothes are asking questions. Apparently, I promised them they would have more room to wiggle by Week Eight.

Dear Body, please advise which department is responsible for the delayed progress report.

Look at me, following the programme as though consistency and I have known each other for years.

In the pool, I completed 1,425 metres—57 lengths—at an average pace of 2 minutes and 39 seconds per 100 metres.

It was not my fastest swim, but I covered the distance.

Some days are for breaking records. Other days are simply for proving that you can keep going.

No dramatic transformation.

No perfect set of numbers.

Just four workouts, more than 61,000 steps and another 57 lengths of the pool.

So apparently, consistency is a thing.

Even more surprisingly, I may finally be practising it.

Yours—moving consistently but still waiting for my clothes to notice,

Me