Now, I would class myself as an active person.

I walk. I swim. I cycle. I don’t, however, like any kind of high-impact fitness. Anything involving burpees just isn’t my jam.

I hate feeling like I’m going to keel over after eight minutes of heart-thumping exercise. Plus, my knees are knackered. Box jumps? It sounds like someone’s aggressively twisting a roll of bubble wrap every time I engage.

So, what was I thinking when I said ‘yes’ to my first outdoor boot camp with a pal whose Insta looks like she has her own athleisure label?

I was still asking myself this very same question at 9am one very damp Saturday, in an equally damp park, with a bunch of people who were 100% pumped for this hour of torture.

Burpees. Circuits. You name it, we did it. Second, third and fourth sets.

However, as much as I wanted to hate every sweaty, muddy moment, covered in muck, lungs burning, I had to admit I was having a ball.

After the session, I even said ‘yes’ to a celebratory hot chocolate rather than scuttle home, and, while this was a far cry from my days chasing dance floors in Camden, it felt so fulfilling. Satisfying almost.

Clutching my steaming paper cup and chatting rubbish with people who had turf in their ear holes.

Plus, it gave me a legit excuse to collapse on the sofa that afternoon with a pizza, although my fingernails were filthy for days afterwards…

“I spent a week saying yes to every social invite that came my way and here’s what I learned”