I did an exercise class last week. It was called friendly circuits. I warmed to the notion of it being friendly because circuit classes are invariably unfriendly and involve being shouted at.

I had some naive notion that there’d be a group of us there, chatting away to each other as we did a bit of light exercise.

It didn’t take long for me to figure out that “friendly” is a nice way of saying “beginners”. But there’s nothing “beginners” about doing any level of circuit class – they’re all tough going. Still, I felt great afterwards. Not so great the following day though. I could barely move. I think it was Sophie Lauren who attributed her sustained beauty to “posture and no old person sounds”.

Cripes, you should have seen my posture last week, and as for making sounds – I moaned and groaned every time I either sat down or stood up. Even turning in bed was a delicate task that had to be broken down into three or four stages.

It’s funny how people respond when you tell them you’re in pain. They usually either offer advice: “Epson salts are great for muscular pain.” Or they try to give rational explanations: “That’d be the build-up of lactic acid – it’ll pass in a day or two.”

Even though I know they’re probably right in what they’re saying, I still find it quite annoying. It’s as if they’re a step ahead of me. I’m not quite at the point where I want advice or explanations. I first need to have my pain acknowledged.

It’s the same when I say I’m having a bad day. People can often jump in trying to rationally explain why I really shouldn’t be having a bad day or offer advice on ways to improve my bad day. I just need to be heard.

It has been said that we spend our lives in the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. Sounds simple and reasonable enough – such a pity we’re so bad at it. Let’s be honest, for some of us, our pursuit of pleasure causes more pain than pleasure (overeating, binge drinking – I won’t go on) and our avoidance of pain often causes even more pain (ignoring a physical pain to the detriment of our health or burying our heads in the sand and hoping a problem will go away – it never does, it only gets worse). So much of our pain is self-created and avoidable.

I love the Henry Cooper joke about a guy going into his doctor and saying: “Doctor, doctor, every time I raise my arm to this level it causes terrible pain.” The doctor replied: “Then stop raising your arm to that level.”

All joking aside, it’s worth bearing in mind that much of our behaviour is not so much about the pursuit of pleasure but an escape from pain. This can help us understand, rather than judge, addiction and suicide. Eckhart Tolle says: “All addiction starts in pain and ends in pain.”

We need to be able to acknowledge this pain before seeking or offering any advice or explanation.