Tue, 17 Nov 2009 9:34a.m.
I sometimes wonder why the heck I’m doing this eight-week challenge when I complain about it so much.
One: for three days my arms have hurt so much it hurts to bench-press oxygen, let alone actual weights.
Two: I have rowing machine-induced blisters on the palms of both hands, all of which have popped and scabbed into little sores.
Three: I still haven’t developed enough coordination to truly justify going to group fitness classes because I just make a total fool out of myself and all the old people sneakily look at me sideways and laugh amongst themselves.
And four: I have discovered something far worse than burpies, AKA what Satan makes the people in Hell do all day long. They’re called thrusters and I hate them so much my eyes actually welled up while I was doing them.
This week I was lucky enough (note the sarcasm) to have two training sessions with Vann. Session One was surprisingly good: I went away from it thinking DAMN I’m sore, but I feel like I can take on the world.
We did a series of dead weights where I pretended I was a body-building she-male who could lift a tonne – well, I actually think it was about seven kilograms which doesn’t sound like much (it isn’t) but is an awful lot when you usually lift next-to-nothing – mixed up with a million and one burpies.
Then it was onto the mat, with as many sit-ups as possible in 20 seconds, followed by as many leg raises as possible in 20 seconds, repeated eight times over. Not too difficult, until about the fifth or sixth round when I started pulling on my thighs to heave myself up for a sit-up because my abs (or the lack thereof) were screaming.
“Erin, stop pulling on your legs.”
“But, Vann, I need to get the momentum going.” Apparently that’s not a good excuse.
Session Two was truly awful.
“Erin, you’re going to do five thrusters, followed by five burpies, followed by running the length of this hallway with this Lucifer-inspired weight on your shoulders, four times over, in under 10 minutes. GO.”
Thrusters involve holding a bar with weights on both ends, elbows bent, then squatting deep, then thrusting your legs back up into a standing position while at the same time thrusting the weight and your arms straight above your head. In the past when I have attempted to do exercises that involve pushing weights towards Heaven with my arms, I have struggled with anything up to 10 kilograms. I don’t know what on earth possessed Vann to suggest pushing 20-kg weights.
Cue hideously strained grimace as Erin desperately tries to thrust the bar above her head.
“Come on Erin, you can do it. Good girl. One down, four to go. Two down, three to go. Three down .. HEY, don’t put the weight down yet, you’ve got two to go.
Don’t give up. You’re not going to give up, are you Erin? Do you want to give up? Winners don’t give up.”
Cue unimpressed expression as Erin imagines dropping 20-kg weight on Vann’s foot from a great height.
“Erin, the lower you go in your squat, the more oomph you’ll have behind you to thrust the weight into the air above your head.”
Well, maybe that works in theory, but my problem was that once I squatted low and deep, I couldn’t get back up again because the weight was so darn heavy.
At the end of the ordeal (after 11 minutes and 40 seconds, which, by the way, is a FAIL) I collapsed in a heap on the ground. My heart was beating faster than it had ever done before. Sweat was literally dripping off me: I left a puddle behind me when I struggled back to my feet. I was so exhausted I was actually wheezing from the shock of it all. (Shock-induced wheezing has happened to me once before, when I had a car crash and had to climb out the window head first, panic-stricken because I couldn’t open the door and thought the entire car was going to burst into flames with me trapped and screaming and dying a horrible death inside. I suppose both situations have some similarities.)
“Erin, are you OK? You look like you’re about to cry.”
“No *wheeze* I’m fine, I’m just *gasp* recovering.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re allowed to cry. It’s OK to cry. I don’t mind if you cry. Lots of people cry. Areyousureyou’renotgoingtocry?”
“NO VANN *gasp* I’m not in the mood for crying right now (said through gritted teeth and forced fake smile while avoiding all eye contact in a weak attempt not to succumb to the tears). Let’s *wheeze* hurry up and move onto the next activity (before I cry and call my Mummy).”
Session Two conveniently ended just as I felt my brain seep out my ear and float around the room and then out the window and up the road somewhere. I was so vacant it was ridiculous. I have truly never been that exhausted in all of my days.
Even when I was at high school and had to do the equally exhausting cross country I had the option of walking. My body was shaking from low blood sugar and my limbs were weak with effort. As Vann and I stretched I could barely stay upright let alone remain aware of what was going on around me.
I really should stop complaining, though, because I am actually really enjoying the whole experience. I have got so much energy that I actually feel like running when I’m walking along the beach, but then I remember that running is of the Devil and I abhor it. My pants are beginning to fall off me now after two and a bit weeks and I’ve had to tighten my belt a notch. I love eating healthy food and try to avoid the bad stuff.
Last night I was eating dinner with friends and left my lettuce because it was covered with mayo or some other equally slimy and fattening sauce, and my friends, knowing that I’m currently on a health buzz, peer-pressured me into eating my greens because that’s what healthy people do. So I ate my greens, but then promptly spat them out again because the creaminess and fattiness from the mayo was just too disgusting to handle. I’m turning healthy. Who would’ve thought?
What I’m reading: This Charming Man by Marian Keyes. Still. It’s a really fat book!
What I’m watching: All Whites vs Bahrain. What a game! I watched it in a pub and hugged lots of strange old men in my excitement.
What I’m looking forward to: The next big sports match on telly so I can go back to that pub and hang out with the strange old men again.
What I’m dreading: The balance of my credit card once summer is over. Which is quite sad considering summer has barely started.
What’s made me happy this week: Starting my Christmas shopping. Check out www.threadless.com.
What’s really annoyed me this week: Hone Harawira. Enough said.