Wicked Women

I'm gabbing with my family at dinner last night, talking about my nemesis the stair climber. This after an innocent question from my son causing me to get my self destructive hackles up. My son is looking alarmed and my wife sort of resigned...

"Are you saying I can't do it?"

"You've only gone seven minutes!" implores my son silently adding 'YOU FOOL!' to the end of the sentence.

On my way into the gym I consult my final check and balance, IronMan.

"Do you think I should do it?"

"Of course!"

Now IronMan doesn't have a clue as to what 'it' is, but his reply is workout logic pure. Of course I should do it, I should try to go a little further, try new things, even if they turn out to be sucky.

I suspect the 'suck' factor will be high on this one.

I clamber on the stair climber, plugging in 25 minutes of intervals, level two, select Southern Rock Opera for some gosh darned reason, I think it would help me imagine I was on the wrong end of Pickett's Charge and go. As the machine starts working its magic! I reflect on an email from notFestus:

p.s. intervals on the stair climber are much easier than just the steady pace….really! Just punch in intervals and level and off you go!

As you can see from my heart chart as far as 'intervals' my heart pretty much ignored the cool down phase. I have control issues on just about anything, ask my wife. I'll have to consult some Zen master on getting a grip on my insolent heart.

After the first interval I'm bored with level two and ramp the thing up to level six. Sweet, sweet sweat begins to flow. I listen to Southern wisdom coming out of my ear-buds, in two weeks I'll be in NC battling the forces of EVIL, the monstrous DOOK and I'm using this album to get into the flow of it. The deep south has its own rhythm.

I'm lording over the gym, Top of the World Ma! and I'm realizing notFestus is right or I'm not doing it right, but I'm not dying on this thing like I was the upright to nowhere on Tuesday. I rapidly modify some Monkey's tune, "Take the upright to nowhere and I'll meet you at the station..." Chuckling at my wit, yes my name is Bill Wit. Sheesh, this machine must be effecting me more than I thought!

MarathonMan comes stumbling in and heads towards a treadmill. I pop out an ear bud curious about why he looks so exhausted before the workout.

"Did operations give you your morning wake up call telling you to come into the gym?"

He processes the question and tiredly replies, "They called last night and I've been here since."

Ouch.

Kojak cuts across my field of vision on his way to an upright and I pop out my other ear-bud, "You're out of detox earlier than I thought!" I know he's been to Mardi Gras. He smiles and mumbles something back looking like he could use another day with the IV.

I plod on when suddenly IronMan is in front of me looking like an irate elf from my lofty perch, "How much longer?!" I tell him about ten minutes and he wanders back, both he and goodMood have already gotten themselves all worked up and are starting RackRuns!.

I finish up and continue for a bit on cool down. I wish I had gone for thirty but now I have an understanding of the experience, it can be done. I head for the racks.

IronMan explains the hellish exercise to me delighting in his wife's wicked ways. There's some debate over who actually devised it, in email from JRock she points an accusing finger at notFestus going so far as to call her, well heck you read it:

And just an FYI - that "modified" rack run I was telling goodMood and Ironman about - was one that notFestus introduced to our regimen a few months ago.
She = wicked woman. SMILE!

I see she's clouding the issue wanting to deflect the blame when my aggrieved shoulders work up the will to consult AllyMcBeal and the lawsuits start flying. She's also inadvertently given me a new name for notFestus. You see notFestus might end up bearing two names just to keep my gentle readers on their toes. When she's gimping around having hurt herself (something that happens with some frequency I hear) she'll be notFestus, but when she's at the height of her demonic powers and not distracted a bum knee, ankle or what not she shall bear the moniker wickedWoman. She's been noticeably limp free of late :-)

So you start the run doing what Bubbles told me was a 'Military Press' on the way up. IronMan also wants me to go higher in weight, I think I went to 15 pounds, they were laid out to 25 I think. Anyway on the way down you modify the military press going up and turning the weight perpendicular and bringing your hands together over your head. This is quite motivational, as my exhaustion grew I spent a lot of time making sure I didn't drop a dumbbell on my head.

Going up the run wasn't much problem, going down... owwwie! Those things killed my shoulders! IronMan and goodMood were threatening to tie a big pink bow on my head if I didn't do a second run. Well pink would clash with my shiny bald head, plus I might look like a dork so I did another one. Oh My Gosh my shoulders were complaining big time, finally falling silent when I was struggling to get the three pounders over my head, implying by their silence of serious payback later.

While this is going on IronMan is bragging about his wife, it's obvious he totally adores her. This kind of talk has goodMood splayed on some flexibility ball trying to hold some dumbbells in front of him and to the side like JRock can. Then both of them start another RackRun! taking the weights and holding them out to their sides, I'm practicing my invisibility skills.

I did one rack run of biceps and was done ('hammers' you hold the dumbbell like a hammer and curl it). goodMood and I clean up the dumbbells and I see awesomeGirl in part of her routine. I ask if she's destroyed her thighs yet and she tells me that's next. She tries to talk me into doing some more time on any machine since its ten minutes till ABS.

Another wicked woman! awesomeGirl knows if I continue to listen I'll succumb and do something further to exhaust myself before ABS. I get out of her field of vision sitting on a chair in the lobby.

Bubbles comes out of the locker room looking all pink in her sweats. We gab about this and that and she's showing me steps on a coordination ladder or whatever you call a rope ladder on the floor. I should have tried a few but didn't.

Time for ABS and it was tireTosser, Kojak, me and awesomeGirl. awesomeGirl shyly asking if she can partake of the misery. PLEASE DO! Bubbles was in a good mood (when is she not?) and lead us through various nightmares but I was holding my own fairly well, it's weird when my abs give out, they give out! I learned that for one type of crunches on the flexibility ball I needed to get more of my back on the ball, to trust the ball (AS IF! I have first hand experience on their trechery) but if I don't it just kills my lower back.

Deciding not to be left out of the 'wicked women' club Bubbles introduces these planks of eternal torment at the end of ABS. They are unspeakable!

MarathonMan shows up asking Bubbles for a ruling, "Do Zingers at 3AM 'count'?" Bubbles thinks on it before ruling that in this case and the fact that he just spent 40 minutes on the treadmill in atonement they do not count. MathonMan leaves with a hop in his step.

I received one 'correction' in my mailbox today from JRock:

I'm on the phone to IronMan now - I DO NOT do 20lbs. on the "Prone Shoulder Press" (laying down on the bench - you all did it on the ball?) - I only use "8's"

Anyone buy that? Me either.

Have a great day!