Weighing in at just 87g and measuring 291cm, we were once friends who would share half an hour together once a week. Each time we’d meet I’d start by thinking it was ok and usually end wishing it was never invented. This morning however our relationship went to another level. Today it became my enemy.
Waking up I realised there was only 11 minutes of training left until I could relax and hope that the past week would kindly return the energy it took from me. It was just 11 little minutes or 660 seconds that I had to get through. Unbeknown to me though, those 11 minutes would make me cringe, rave expletives, squeal in frustration, and prove to myself how truly uncoordinated I am after a long and tiring week.
The week started out like most with a session on the treadmill, after which I took no notice of what Michael had said and went on to check out the Personal Trainer who was holding a circuit workout at the community gym. Thinking I would just take it easy and have a peek at what she was doing, I forgot that I struggle with this concept and instead found myself dripping with sweat after 20 minutes. I followed this up with an email to Michael that started “Ok…so…I have a confession.” I then proceeded to admit that I didn’t listen to him when he said to do one or the other, not both.
So after this little bump in the road, I continued with the program and by yesterday afternoon my legs were feeling heavier then usual as I pushed the incline to the max to get my heart rate up. Needless to say that after the 11 minutes where I met my new enemy today, I had a few choice words to say when I returned my training ratings this morning.
My new enemy is skipping…the devil itself. I know it is fantastic for your health, and up until this morning I actually enjoyed the jumping/hopping/running through the rope that would leave me dripping in sweat after only a couple of minutes. Through a combination of muscle tiredness from my selective hearing and not doing as I was told, a big week in Birdsville and a hot sun, instead of starting to trip on the rope after 6 or 7 minutes I started tripping before the clock had even reached 60 seconds. It was at precisely this point that my frustration kicked in.
I then quickly starting letting out little hmmphs when my feet would fail to clear the rope, which progressed to squeals of frustration. The latter of which would of been highly entertaining for the neighbours had they been out. In the end though all I really wanted to do was find the nearest sharp object and cause irreversible damage to the rope. Unfortunately I refrained from doing this, primarily because there were no sharp objects nearby, rather then the fact I wouldn’t be able to buy another in Birdsville.
Although it sent me into a frustration frenzy today, out of sheer stubborness and determination I’ll be back to defeat my enemy next week.