I can’t help noticing that there’s the rivalry that naturally exists between different sports often tips over from friendly respect to downright scorn. This is especially so on the internet, where the gloves are, it seems, permanently off.

The rowers love nothing better than a good belly laugh when they see non-rowers flinging themselves about on the erg, and don’t really believe that anyone else is quite as hard as they are.

The bodybuilders talk disparagingly of cardio bunnies, as though long hours pounding the pavements or slogging it out on the running machine is worth nothing compared with their tin-shifting power, and love to tell tales of the high-rep, low-weight cissies they saw at the gym that day.

The runners look on anyone with muscle above the calves as hulking neanderthals next to their gazelle-like litheness.

And the triathletes and Iron Man guys… actually, I’m not sure that they have any energy left to think, but I’m pretty sure they feel a cut above the rest.

So just for today, let’s call a truce. Let’s show a little respect for athletes in other disciplines. And if you find yourself next to me on the erg and see me smirking, just take a glance at my monitor. It’s bound to give you a laugh.

So where am I now? Can I finally say that I’m actually, properly fit? And by whose standards?

Of course, going by the national average, I’m pretty much up there. I exercise several times a week, can hold my own at boot camp and am in reasonable shape. Yet at every sporting event I go to, I seem to be surrounded by hundreds of people who are in much, much better condition than I am.

There’s the 61-year-old in my squad who’s just run a marathon, with energy to spare for shopping the next day (my kind of athlete). There are all the people who overtook me on the Parkrun I attempted a couple of weeks ago (and there were lots of them). There are the countless triathletes, runners, rowers and swimmers who, every day, put me to shame. There’s even my own family who outstrip me in fitness in every way.

Of course, the sensible answer is that every person has to set their own standards and not worry about pitting themselves against others. That’s especially so for someone like me who has had to battle with chronic ill health just to get off the couch in the first place. But I still like to have a standard against which to measure myself.

Now, I’ve always had the idea at the back of my mind that someone was fit if they could run five miles. I’ve no idea where this notional marker of fitness came from, but it’s always stood as my personal gold standard. And I’m excited to report that today, for the first time in my life, I finally managed to run for five miles. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty, but I still did it.

Does that make me fit? It might not make me as fit as a flea, but for now, for me, it’ll do. Until next week, at least.

Much more than just a pedometer, it forms part of an online fitness tracking programme. It comes with a memory stick to connect with your computer; you update your score by shaking the Actiped near the memory stick; it then magically syncs your data (OK, OK, so I’m not a scientist). Having analysed a full fitness and health questionnaire, including weight (shameful after Christmas), height, diet, alcohol consumption (ditto) and fitness regime, and with sophisticated inner workings that notice for how long your foot strikes the ground (which informs it about your speed), it aims to give an accurate reading of how far you’ve travelled and how many calories you’ve burned.

Particularly pleasing for a competitive type like me, it has pitted me against a group of equally sporty types (including award-winning body builder, Nicola Joyce), with a leaderboard showing how we’re doing.

So, how was it? I have to say I found it much more motivating than I expected, especially when Joel, the Step Success founder and boss, kicked off the year with a rowers vs. runners challenge (and anyone who knows me I can’t resist a challenge). Normally I don’t need any extra impetus to get myself out to boot camp or rowing, but for running and walking sometimes need an extra boot up the booty. That’s exactly what the Actiped gave me. Comfortably in the lead most of the time, mostly because Joel was off sport for a couple of weeks thanks to an injury, as soon as I saw his step count creeping up towards mine, it was all the incentive I needed to haul myself out into the ice and drizzle.

Pleasingly, it also allows for manual entries for other activities like rowing, cycling (and even ironing, though I rarely find myself doing that!), so if your activities are more wide-ranging you can still log them. And, if you’re proud enough of your achievements to want to make them public, it syncs with Facebook so you can share your step success with the world.

It fitted well on both trainers and various shoes and boots; if you’ve got laces or a strap of some kind, you’re good to go. I haven’t used it so much this week as I’ve been living in Ugg boots (freezing in Wales!) and there’s nothing to attach it to. Occasionally I’d forget altogether to put it on; it can take a while to get into the habit.

Here’s a glimpse of what I would see when I logged on (click on the screen shot to get the full screen):

Step Success is mostly aimed at getting the unsporty and unfit into the habit of exercising, but I think it could really work for someone who is already fit but who is prone to finding excuses not to get moving (especially in the winter). Being pitted against others is great for motivation, and it’s heartening to see the calories burned and distance covered (cooking is a gratifyingly active activity, I discovered). It also won against my husband’s cherished Garmin when out on a family walk; his nerdometer (as we affectionately refer to it) failed to get a signal in the woods for much of the time, whereas my Actiped+ kept recording throughout.

It’s not yet perfect; it can’t tell whether you’re slogging up a hill or jogging comfortably along the flat, and I’d like to see more options for the manual entries, but Joel tells me that there are plans afoot for subsequent models to detect hills and/or heart rate. This would make it a more serious rival to some of the watches available. Definitely worth a try.

If you tweet about health and fitness, you can’t fail to notice that fitness tweeters fall into certain categories that crop up again and again. The question is, which one are you?

1. The Caveman

This tweeter is All Man (even if she’s a woman). Tweets about heavy weights, even heavier muscles and, of course, the macho food that gives strength to the ultra-ripped body posing for the profile pic. Almost certainly on some form of paleo diet, it’s steak and greens and shifting tin all the way. Raaarrrrr!

Most likely to tweet: “Totally pumped after insane weights session and triple steak dinner!! Feeling STRONG!!!!!”

Least likely to tweet: “Cupcake? Don’t mind if I do.”

2. The Motivator

Come ON! Let’s GO! The Motivator – high-octane and full of oomph, vigour and AWESOMENESS – spurs everyone on to greater and stronger endeavours. Can’t help noticing that he (for it’s almost always a he) doesn’t say much about his own regime. Could he be all hot air?

Most likely to tweet: “What are YOU doing to make yourself fitter this weekend? Remember to make it AWESOME!!!”

Least likely to tweet: “Me? You want to know about what I’m doing? Ummm…”

3. The Happy Clappy

Life is endlessly positive in the world of this hippy-dippy, karmically-superior tweeter. Most days start with a round of inspirational quotes and from then on it’s happy-happy all the way. This tweeter is endlessly blessed. Her chosen form of exercise is yoga (the spiritual kind, naturally – none of your fitness yoga for this ethereal sort). But behind the screen, is she really in a state of dark misery, weeping into her herbal tea?

Most likely to tweet: “Your inner beauty is a blessing to those who meet you #peaceandlove”.

Least likely to tweet: “I hate everyone. Pass the gin #FML.”

4. The Foodie

For the Foodie, exercise is all about food. Workouts are logged by calorie count, and every hard-earned meal is closely described and invariably photographed. Never resorting to anything as crude as ready meals, this gourmand eats well and wants everyone to know about it.

Most likely to tweet: “Just a simple, post-workout dinner tonight: rosemary-infused poussin with confit d’escargots and home-made ravioli #simplepleasures”

Least likely to tweet: “There’s nothing in the fridge AGAIN. Oh well, I’ll just have some beans out of the tin #slob”

5. The Evangelist

In stark contrast to the Foodie, in the Evangelist’s world, the point about exercise is that it makes you morally superior. Couch potatoes are to be pitied and condemned in equal measure (especially if they’re fat). This tweeter wants you to know about every minute of exercise he or she does, especially if it’s early in the morning or late at night, and loves nothing better than a news item that proves how special sporty people are.

Most likely to tweet: “Kicked some ass in the gym, lovin’ the burn before dawn. Glad I’m not one of the LAZY ones eating muffins on the couch.”

Least likely to tweet: “Hey, whatever makes you happy.”

6. The Moaner

If it’s not the coach, it’s the rest of the team. Or the kit. Or the journey there. Nothing makes the Moaner happier than being unhappy. He or she is endlessly hard done by, and favours the passive-aggressive variety of tweet. Luckily Twitter is there as an outlet for the long list of complaints.

Most likely to tweet: “I wish Certain People would pull their weight. Another miserable session.”

Least likely to tweet: “Ah well, mustn’t grumble”.

7. The PR

Perpetually promoting something, but never quite getting round to admitting it, the PR is easy to spot. Each tweet is just a thinly disguised attempt to flog whatever the latest product is. Often strains credulity.

Most likely to tweet: “Long run this morning. Good job I was wearing my @magictrainers – they made me run like the wind!!!”

Least likely to tweet: “Can’t think of anything good to say about these lousy shoes. I know, I’ll pretend I went running in them.”

8. The Fisher

A little bit helpless and a big bit needy, the Fisher is after your compliments. Don’t be taken in by the constant self-deprecation; what this tweeter wants is validation and praise. And if you don’t play along, be warned. Flouncing is never far away.

Most likely to tweet: “Terrible session. I’m so useless. I’ll never make it as a runner/ rower/ human being.” (delete where applicable)

Least likely to tweet: “Hot damn! I was rocking it tonight. “

9. The Show-Off

Anything you can do, the Show-Off can do better. This tweeter achieves extraordinary feats every day and never fails to tell the world about them. But with PBs to die for and challenges to envy, it’s hard to avoid a sneaking suspicion that behind the Twitter-facade, this is actually a lardy sloth whose only exercise is tapping away on a smartphone.

Most likely to tweet: “Smashed my running PB AGAIN. Another 3 minute mile!!! #awesome”

Least likely to tweet: “Exhausted after a trip to the toilet #hatethestairs”.

10. The Saboteur

One of the most sinister presences on Twitter, the Saboteur couldn’t be sweeter, but be warned. This tweeter’s main motivation is to stop everyone else from exercising. Swooping in as soon as anyone shows signs of weakness, the Saboteur will soon find you a reason to skive off.

Most likely to tweet: “You don’t want to overdo it – don’t want to get injured!! Anyway, isn’t it gin o’clock? Treat yourself!”

Least likely to tweet: “Man up and get your arse out for a run!”

So, do you recognise yourself? I do, but I’m not telling which one is me; you’ll  just have to follow me to find out!

During my time away I’ve learned to love running (something I never thought would happen), have gained in fitness (I’ve also learned to rest) and have admired the river from the banks. But nothing – really, nothing – is quite like the thrill of gliding along next to the swans on the smooth, glassy water.

I was a bit nervous about my first time back. Would I be able to remember what to do? Would it feel exhausting, painful, uncomfortable, ridiculous?

Actually, it just felt right. More than right, it was exhilarating.

Admittedly, it was cold – one of those ice-on-the-blades mornings – but what’s a bit of ice between friends? If a lump of the cold stuff is good enough for my gin and tonic (and it is), then it’s good enough for my blades.

The next few weeks will, I hope, see a gradual return to rowing strength, thanks to my amazing physio, Richard Coates. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s back to business. Want to raise a glass to that?

Obama vs. DeGeneres

Ellen wimped out after about 20; Michele kept going for another five, but looked like she had more in her.

I got into press-ups after the astonishingly buff Vikki Scovell, the Queen of Bootcamp, challenged everyone in her class to try them.

“Men think that press-ups are their preserve”, she said, “but there is NO REASON why women can’t do them, too. They’re great for burning fat as they’re working a large area of muscle and they’re easier than you think.”

That’s all the encouragement I needed. At the time I could manage about four before I collapsed. A year later I was up to 40 (and to be clear, we’re not talking knees-down “wuss-ups”, as Vikki calls them; we’re talking proper, “boys’” press-ups). Since I hurt my shoulder I haven’t been doing them, so I may be down to a paltry five again, but I can’t wait to get back at least to Obama levels.

So, come on, ladies. How many push-ups can you manage? Five? 25? 35? 50? Could you put Michele Obama to shame? Remember, girls. Press-ups are for everyone. Get down on the floor and show the men what you can do.

Matcha latte

Just over three weeks ago I embarked on the Teapigs matcha challenge. For two weeks I was to take a daily dose (a tiny spoonful) of a vivid green powder that is ground-up green tea, to see if it could deliver health and happiness (or at least health, vitality and a svelte figure). At the time, January was shaping up to be its usual, long, rather wearisome self and I needed a boost that would deliver results without resorting to my usual extremism. You can read about how I felt about the challenge at the beginning here.

So, nearly a month later, how was it? Well, for a start, it tasted nicer than I expected. If you happen to like the taste of green tea, which I do, it’s great as it’s similar only more concentrated. That said, the flavour is fairly easily masked, so if you don’t happen to be partial to the green stuff, all is not lost.

I took it in lots of different forms. Some days I went for the easy shot with water. On others I chose the matcha latte – mixed with hot milk and honey (much tastier than I expected). I also experimented with matcha with hot water as a green tea (OK, though not marvellous), in smoothies (couldn’t taste it) and in yogurt (just don’t). In the end I found myself resorting more and more frequently to matcha porridge, largely because the crazy green sludge appealed to my Shrek-like aesthetic. I’ve even, for my own amusement, been doubling the quantities to make the colour more intense, but there’s no need for that.

Fruit smoothie - you can't see or taste the matcha

Matcha porridge - to make it even greener add another spoonful

Most importantly, though, did it work? Unlike some others, I didn’t notice an instant buzz or boost of energy on taking it, but there’s no doubt that I have been irritatingly full of beans this month. Just yesterday two friends commented on how well I looked and one asked if I’d been on holiday. How often do you hear that in January when you’ve spent the last four weeks in a dark, damp, Welsh valley? I have definitely had a spring in my step and have often awoken before my alarm (almost unheard of).

As to its slimming properties, I can’t say that it’s made a huge difference. I’ve been eating pretty sensibly, with the odd dip into ill-advised but delicious excess, and have dropped a couple of pounds, but that’s to be expected after the lardathon that was my Christmas and New Year.

But will I carry on taking it now the challenge is over? The answer is a definite yes. I should point out that it is expensive (though you only use a tiny amount every day so it doesn’t work out that wildly expensive if you break it down), and I was lucky enough to have been given a sample by the nice people at Teapigs. You also need a whisk (Teapigs recommend a bamboo or electric one). But I really do suspect that my chirpiness is due at least in part to my daily fix of green powder, so I’m going to stick with it.

If you’d like to try it for yourself, as a thank you for reading to the end, Teapigs are giving you a 20% off offer on matcha, which lasts until 12th February 2012. To take advantage of it, just buy your matcha here and enter the code MATCHABLOG12 at the checkout. The offer only applies to matcha and not to other Teapigs products.

Well, now’s your chance to find out how good you really are at the erg. World Champion rowers Katherine Grainger and Olympic gold medallists Mark Hunter and Greg Searle are giving you an insight into just how hard the selection for the GB Rowing Team is by inviting you – yes, that’s you – to take your own trial on a rowing machine.

For the month of February the team is running The Nation on Trial initiative: the chance to take your own 2km trial, whilst also raising money for the event’s charity partner, The Stroke Association. 2km is the distance of the Olympic rowing course and is the standard length of race at the World and British Rowing Championships.

The 2k erg test is also possibly the hardest thing a rower ever has to do; and most rowers have to do them at regular intervals. They can, in some clubs, make the difference between getting a place in a boat and watching from the bank.

So, back to the challenge. Here’s how it works. Anyone of any ability aged 16 and over can register on the event website www.nationontrial.org and access expert training advice on how to use a rowing machine as well as hearing messages of encouragement from World Champions such as Grainger, Richard Chambers and Searle. You train and build up to rowing 2km as fast as you can on a rowing machine at a local gym or rowing club. You record your time as many times as you like on the event website between 1 and 29 February; this will show how you compare with friends and workmates as well as with the entry standard for the GB selection process.

Who knows? You might find you get a taste for it. You might decide to try out rowing on the water. You might even find you’re one of that rare breed of people (count me out) who actually enjoy the erg. Just one thing, though. Ergs don’t float.

But on the river? Never. However much my lungs are complaining, I can’t bring myself to spit in the water. There’s something about seeing the bubbly globule floating away on the otherwise flawless, glassy surface that stops me, however great the urge to clear my throat.

It’s a delicate subject that I’ve not brought up with anyone before now and I hope I’ve not disgusted you. So come on, ladies and gents. Confession time. Do you spit or swallow? I think we ought to be told.

Here’s what Olympic rower, Katherine Grainger, eats in a typical day. Mmmmm… just the thought of that second breakfast is making me hungry.

Instead of eating, though, I’m off to do those exercises my physio prescribed; it’s my best chance of getting back on to the lasagne and scrambled egg diet.