When I signed up for the 12 week Foxy Challenge, I had a little running commentary in my head, thus –
“So, for Monday I’ll get really organised, and then I’ve got PT, and food coaching, and I’ll start doing BodyPump on a Thursday..mmm.. how will I fit in something on Tuesday or Wednesday when I’ve got the Spare with me? “… Not that my youngest (aka the Spare) won’t go to the gym creche, but it’s another hurdle… anyway.
And then there was actually doing it. Monday, fine, full of exhilaration, but what for now has become a routine – PT on a Monday, and I even added a flying finish of 30 minutes of white-hot rowing.
Tuesday and Wednesday completely bombed (see previously) as I physically could not get to the gym… and then Thursday I made it to Bodypump. So far so good. But THEN I did the Weekly Challenge on Friday which was boxing, jabs, punches, right hooks, lunges, skipping, and my first introduction to Tabata (which seems alot like Fartlek to me, maybe with a less ridiculous name?).
I nearly threw up. I hurt. Really hurt. My chest was going to burst all over the running machine, and as for the skipping. I haven’t skipped since I was 9, and even then it was lazy long-rope skipping where you joined a queue and jumped through for a couple of seconds every tenth girl. I remember fluffy clouds, hard asphalt playgrounds, and realising that in the fight for boy attention or a cola cube from your new best friend, the cola cube won every time. (Which may explain why I am where I am today, needing to do the Foxy Challenge. All those cola cubes).
This wasn’t that. This was awkward (carpet, sneakers), undignified (total support sports bra? Not so supportive), and killing.
And now I’m awake the very next day about to go to Book Camp, and not sure how to will my muscles to go on. Curiously I’ve managed breakfast for the Heir, colouring in and a good chat about diving under water with the Spare, but the thought of getting back out there. Omgoodness.
The only reason I’m going is that I bullied a friend into going too. So I have to. I’m also scared the minute I stop, I won’t start again. I realise I’ll have more confidence in a few days, but in Week 1? If someone offered me a recliner, and the box set of Friends, I’d be very tempted to sit still for the next few days.
I keep thinking of those people in The Biggest Loser and wondering when they hurt – they seem to be exercising ALL the time – do they ever talk about pain? I’ve only ever seen a few minutes at a time so maybe I missed the whining. So I thought I’d whine myself.
Here’s hoping I don’t in fact throw up this morning. I’m past embarrassment, but I won’t have time to stop and brush my teeth afterwards before joining in again.