38: Triple the Fun

Yowsers.  

I did not expect all that happened today.

It wasn't bad, well, kinda.

So the King of Athletics had taken over for a week, seeing as my personal trainer had to reschedule.  That's life, things change and rearrange; it's all good.

Especially when your back up trainer is this hot.

So I'm instructed to "do the workout I showed you."  That's all fine and dandy if I had written it down four weeks ago, but I hadn't.  That, and I "knew" how to lift now, so I wanted to use those barbells in the garage.

So, in my pj's and forgetting to warm up, I go to our "gym."  I look at the weights, the wheelbarrow and the jump rope, trying to remember what we did all those weeks ago.  I decide to engage in the push/pull sets for upper and lower.  Hmm...kettle bell squats, barbell rows, knee ups, lunges.  That should work, right?

I saw a lot of this.

Rows?  Did 'em.  Squats?  Ugh.  Knee-ups, I managed seven.  Lunges?

Ferris lives in my garage.

Who would know if I did the lunges?  Heck, why do lunges?  Why do any more exercise?

Then he shows up:

Well, I'm done.  Nothing more to do here!!!

I slink into the house, not a twinge of guilt in my heart.  I *did* workout.  15 squats, 15 rows, 7 knee-ups-heck, that's more than I ever did in gym.

This is my elementary school; I think of it's gym whenever I type gym.

Then my editor calls, and while she doesn't mention exercise, I feel a tad guilty.  Just a tad.  After all, I was double teamed by both Ferris and Maverick.  I excuse myself, and head back out to the garage.

I get through another set, and go to do the knee ups-and I can't!  Not even one!! My right arm refused to cooperate!

So that time I quit for real, but not until I 'fessed up to the King of Athletics.

Note the lengthy explanation that left out the original 20 minute quitting part.

I kinda missed the do the rest stuff.  I had good intentions apparently.

So, going outside requires foundational garments, shorts, running shoes.

Running shoes.  Ha!  I wear Minimus shoes, and I know better than to run in them.  I find my very muddy, very stiff running shoes.  I think I wore them last year?  At a mud run?  Hmmm.

I head to the steepest part of Flying Hawk Trail.  I run the first wind sprint.

Like, BAD.

I could not breathe.  I had to purposefully slow my breathing to catch my breath.  I had left water in the house, not thinking I'd need it.  I run the second sprint.

Again-I cannot breathe.

Each sprint, the recovery is harder, but the run itself is more fluid (I get heel strikes instead of being on my toes, despite the steepness.) By the final sprint I am doubled over, stitches in my sides.  I barely am able to stumble in the house, and grab water.  I head upstairs to let in the dogs, and on a whim, pick up my phone.

https://www.facebook.com/katie.cornelius/posts/10204870916906195

Pretty groovy for one shot, eh?

Yes, my angst is real, folks.

My day got stranger as I decided to clean out my shower (a long, dirty process-slate does NOT belong in a shower!)

It's still not done...

And the King of Athletics came home early.

And I still had a side stitch six-seven hours later.

Sigh.

Then Jhane calls and makes my day, because we are both obsessed art collectors.  She has more than I do, only because she's retired.  We make plans to snatch up more art soon. (I've got this idea to clear more wall space, see...:)

We were both taken with Russ Johnson's Grand Canyon interpretations.  

So, the equivalent of three workouts today, and tomorrow's the really big day:

Granite #261.

At least we go up first!