Weekly Workout Train

As some of you know (ha, I say that like anyone is actually reading this. Whew, that was a good laugh) I was sick for over a week and the workout train came to a screeching halt. In my head this equated to gaining about 17 bazillion pounds and I may have had a little freak out/screaming fit/spiraling depression but whatever.

Given the new week that was just upon us I decided to get back on the train and get my ass moving as much as possible to try and get those aforementioned 17 bazillion pounds off and just feel better (TM Santana and Steven Tyler for that one). I thought, “Kiki, you haven’t been running in a while, it’s nice outside, you survived the Krav test, of course you can pick right up and run.” Well, since I’m clearly delusional I went out and did it.

Now when I said went out and did it, I mean I really did put on running clothes (appropriately matched per usual), found the watch, the pedometer (which was broken) and went outside. Yes, after nine months of not running I felt that running over melting ice and snow was the way to go. I’m a rocket scientist.

I started running after a minute of walking and told myself all I needed to do was five minute increments. Well, after pole vaulting over some snow piles I decided that I could totally do at least 10 minutes. 10 turned to 11 and as my good friend B decided to tell me “11 minutes equals a mile” so I was feeling pretty good! No pain in the shins, breathing was ok, hat wasn’t falling in my eyes, iPod was playing good tunes. Then the wall started creeping in. I felt an odd sensation in my left foot, then my right. Crap, I forgot I get blisters EVERY SINGLE time I run. I mean, one would think that they’d go away or get better or something. Apparently this is what not running for nine months does to me. Like the trooper I am (see previous I don’t give up post) I continued my trek for a total of 46 minutes, 32.5 of which would beat an old lady and her walker. Perhaps not so bad no?

Next day was Monkey Bar and Krav because let’s be honest, who isn’t a masochist that likes pain for two hours? All kidding aside, kick ass classes that almost make me believe I can wear a bikini this summer without people running for cover and cowering with fear at the sight of me. Monkey Bar with R&S had us doing umpas, box jumps, sit ups, jumping rope, burpees and some other activities that made me think I was going to puke. Not any indication of their instruction as they rock, but more my inadequacy. An hour saw more sweat come off me than being in Meridian, MS for a boat race in the summer.

Krav was a series of kicks that had me looking like a dancing elf (sidebar: totally not the image that is Krav-approved but my rhythm had left and that’s what happened). No biggie since I think by now they are used to me looking like a freak the first time we learn something new. The problem was that by this point my legs were starting to feel like jello. My partner V totally is great but I’m pretty sure falling on her is not the approved curriculum. I did, however, come back to full rar strength with my checking defenses so I had something solid to look back on.

Fast forward to the next two-a-day masochism workout and another round of Krav then Monkey Bar. I’m really wondering what switch has flipped in my head that I willingly put myself in these situations. I mean, do sane people do this? Anyway, kick series again in Krav but we had to try and hit focus mitts instead of pads while going across the room. Remember, I like V so I don’t want to kick her. Let’s just say I was kicking like there were flies in the room lest I make contact. Oh well, again my checking defenses saved the day (hey, I have to find something I’m good at or I may just shoot myself now. That’s the problem with being a perfectionist).

Thursday Monkey Bar was the dreaded warm up with box jumps (although V came up with a strategy to help next time) and then a rotation of jump rope, ab hell and arm hell. What is ab hell you ask? Two minutes of sit ups, one minute of rest followed by two minutes of Russian twists, one minute of rest and then two minutes of leg lifts with one minute of rest. Now, the first two, not the easiest but not a problem. See, I can’t do leg lifts to save my ass (not an odd thing since they are supposed to save your tummy). R tells me to do supine bridge with a lift. Sure, no prob. V looks over at me to tell me which muscles it really helps work and I lose my ish. Like I start laughing so hard I’m crying. Not the workout I was expecting. Anything that I can reply with “If I’m working those muscles I’d rather be doing something MUCH DIFFERENT” is not appropriate on the training floor. Somehow we then survived five minutes of push ups (I have the arms of a newborn when it comes to strength) and some yoga.

And since I truly am an idiot, I did two more Krav classes this morning. Now, I’m not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination and is only made worse when I have to actually function. Besides the great technique (my defenses were better, I did not look like a dancing elf with my advancing front kick), I got to run around the room with a tombstone pad on my back while my partner tried to hammerfist it. I mean, what more can one ask for right?

All things considered, after seven workouts in six days I’m not feeling too bad. The shins are still splinting and the arms didn’t want to dry the hair this morning, but it could be worse. Those 17 bazillion pounds are still there however. Not sure what we’re going to do about those….