Jesus Christ, it burns. Without thinking- without even being religious- I make the sign of the cross, crying out to be crucified, for the pain to be eased.

Six... seven...

Red-faced, hot-blooded, sweat beading my forehead like a necklace of honour, I throw down the dumbbell on my 8th repetition. Its thud synchronises with the beat drop of Toxic (who doesn't love a bit of Britney?), marking my tr...