Yes, every day some part of my skeletal structure is aching or sore. I blame this solely on Tyron, my trainer.
Yesterday he had some crazy notion that I want to be a Navy SEAL. I assure you, I do not. I don’t wish to be GI Jane. Ok, the blowing stuff up part would be cool. Hooking up with Viggo Mortensen wouldn’t be bad at all. But the fitness regimen is intense and, frankly, insane.
After the work on the stairs and the medicine ball and the NBA drills Tryon decided to bring out the straps. ( I believe there was a slight look of surprise on Tyron’s face when I would “pass” the medicine ball to him. I’m not a girly girl when it comes to things sporty. I passed like I was John Stockton to Karl Malone. Ha, take that Mister Trainer with the hard body. I can pass.) It was some funky harness type apparatus with handles and I wanted to make an off-color joke about bondage and water skiing. After that, nothing was funny about it. I did my chest pulls, my bicep curls, my triceps, and my squats holding onto the handles and using my body weight. Four sets of 12…boom boom boom. 192 pulls. The straps were placed on the cross-bar of the “machine that does everything” and fastened with a hook. There was very little rest between sets and after it was done I was sweaty and winded. Then it was time of core/ab work. Yippee. I usually rock this. Uh, apparently Tyron has noticed I rock this and he stepped it up. Everything was done on the bosu ball including sit ups (regular); as many as I could crank out in a minute. 3 times. Then sit up, take the medicine ball and twist to each side…again, as many as I could do in a minute. 3 times. Oh, wait, not finished. Medicine ball, me perched on the bosu, extended arms holding ball, twist to each side; as many as I could do in a minute. 3 times. My abs were screaming. Not finished quite yet. Let’s do forward planks. Lets see if you can beat your old record time. Christ! I start out strong and have excellent form. In my opinion, it’s better to look good than to feel good in the plank performance. I’m straight, I’m strong. Last 15 seconds of it I have lowered my head to my clasped hands and it’s a combination of “going to my happy place” and praying. “Dear God, get me through this.” Time, done. I collapse to the mat. Tyron starts putting up all the equipment we have used and I continue to stay on the mat. “Go ahead, I’m just going to stay here for a minute.” Finally I pulled myself up…my hair is wet. WET. Few words were spoken between us. I thanked him, as I always do and said “see you Thursday” and limped down the stairs.