So back to the gym I went. Day 2. Let me tell you about this new fangled torture device I was introduced to called TRX. So I check in this morning at 5:30 because like everyone else, I like to watch the sun rise through sweat, tears, and a couple half digested Buffalo wings that happen to make an appearance.
So the facility throws up anchors about 13 feet up the wall and attaches a couple fancy water ski tow ropes to them. Then they convince someone to list the benefits of using your body weight, core, gravity and some other nonsense involving what I can only assume is technical terms masking the procedures perfected at GITMO.
So here’s where I go “cool”
I learn how to adjust the ski rope, and then the music turns on. Oh crap…
I am literally getting step by step instruction on form and body position for the first few routines and I think ‘sweet I got this’ looking up at the clock and see 5 minutes have flown by.
So squats, side lunges and some rowing motions continue and the burn is building. We turn around and face away from the wall for the next set. I glance to the clock as I towel off my forehead. How was that only 5 minutes?
We do these sort of mid air push ups with reminders to keep our core tight, breathe, you should feel it between your shoulders . Umm I feel it there, in my calves, thighs, and something in my forearm is pulsing. Breathe? The air around me feels about Death Valley temperature.
We move onto another sort of dipping push up thing where if you keep your core engaged the shaking should be minimal. I know that at this moment David Attenborough should be narrating the first flight of an albatross over my workout right now. Spreading my feet apart for stability helps, kind of. The burn must have originated somewhere in the boiler room of some volcano factory.
Grab a water, wipe sweat. Clock says I’ve been in here for 20 minutes.
We lower the handles to mid calf height. Sweet, I could some sit ups. What’s a plank? So no sit ups?
For anyone unfamiliar, planking isn’t just a white girl thing to do before the Starbucks run for a PSL. Keeping your back straight while your brain is trying to address multiple wildfires inside muscle tissue that’s been dormant other than flashes of exertion trying to stay upright or at least not spilling your drink during the cross campfire Graham cracker pass is no joke.
I almost kept up on the first rep. Halfway on the second rep, and chewed on the Buffalo wing on the third. After reswallowing we moved to our backs. This exersize was actually a sort of relief, like playing tennis with live grenades. Get your ankles as far from each other without your butt hitting the floor. Oh you can grab the yoga mat to help. My mat looked like teen wolf was trying to impregnate it.
All joking aside, I felt a little noodley today and can’t wait for the next session. Half hour sessions that is. I am shocked that the gym offers 60 minute ones.
Goals I guess.
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