Intervals of Madness

Yesterday Bubbles sent me a link to Fitness Magazine's Workout Playlists. I scanned the list a bit, even commented back to Bubble's on my deep thoughts on Beck's Loser making it onto one of them. Two other things I noted were

1. I recognize maybe a third of the artists - I'm old...
2. Zip City could NOT be found on any list I checked, not ONE

Can you believe that TomS? No Zip City! Apparently the 'experts' at Fitness Magazine doubt your workout credentials, your musical tastes, why your very judgment! TomS I believe they are dissing you - mmhmm! Oh he's writing a letter now I can hear the scratch of the pencil on paper. Poor Fitness Magazine, they wont know what hit them.

It was interval day today and I picked the upright bike and liked the results. Forty-five minutes put each interval at three minutes. I'd jack up the HR and then try and bring it back down as best I could, I got all the way up to 163bpm, not bad for an old guy.

I also got delusional, that's always fun for everybody!

I finally seemed to have gotten a handle on this terrible time change and had a solid night of sleep.

I'm peddling along on the bike, idling until I hit a 'hill' then I start trying to jack my HR up higher with each successive one. Three minutes of agony followed by three minutes of blissful slacking seem like a nice interval for me.

I spot Bubbles sauntering down the hallway and call out, "Hey everyone Bubbles is here!" It's why my fellow gym rats put me on this bike so I could watch down the hallway. We all tighten it up, IronMan stops napping on some weight bench, awesomeGirl picks up the pace on the elliptical so it turns on, goodMood decides to actually lift a weight and I stub out the cigar and pour out the beer. Mmhmm, Bubbles is in HER house now, best look sharp.

I think I'm going up my third to last hill and Kojak comes ambling across the gym to his upright. I'm already getting that first endorphin rush and feeling oddly uppity. I glare at Kojak, "Hey there Kojak, I'm looking for trouble and wondering if you're the one to bring it!" I'm hammering the pedals and foggily staring at Kojak in some bleary sort of defiance.

Kojak is confused by this morning greeting, laughter erupts from where IronMan and goodMood are somewhere in their fiftieth rack run and he smiles at the crazy man, edges away, says something I can't quite make out over the music blaring out of my ear-buds, hops on his bike and gets to work.

I go for it on the second to the last hill wanting to see how high I can get my HR and still have something left for the final hill. My Garmin is saying I'm in zone 4.8 or something and I'm just totally into it. I've never taken a spin class before so I can't quite compare it but it was like my body was screaming, "MORE! Push it you pansy!!!" Weird and dangerously addictive. Sweat's pouring off me and I'm sucking wind and finally the hill ends and the pedals get easy to turn.

I emit this, "Whoo hoo!" kind of noise bringing a knowing smile from Bubbles who's behind her monitor plotting some evil routine for an unsuspecting soul I suppose.

IronMan and goodMood are giggling about God knows what, I think they were trying to juggle the dumbbells. I'm in some hazy anaerobic fog trying to get my breath under control for the final hill. I manage that and hop off the bike wincing at my stupid coccyx.

I wipe the bike down and stagger over to goodMood and IronMan. I'm sizing up the weights trying to remember the press that they were doing, still getting a grip on my breathing.

IronMan is talking about the medicine ball and asking in a taunting manner if I'm gonna try it.

Why not?

We get that set up and suddenly my feet are on the bench, well OK, my knees are on the bench and I'm in a plank staring down at this medicine ball which has magically turned into the size of a ping-pong ball. IronMan has called Bubbles over and she's giving all sorts of advice on getting on the balls of my feet and holding my knees straight while IronMan, in the role of 'yes man,' is agreeing with everything she says.

My total focus is on trying to figure out how to get my hands off the floor and on the itsy-bitsy medicine ball without turning this maneuver into an I Love Lucy skit. All the advice is background noise.

I manage to get my left hand on the ball but not my right. I'm convinced when I transfer my weight the treacherous ball will squirt out from under me.

IronMan suggests I try one without the ball. I do this even with the jumping jack thing I described yesterday but can't get the ball under me. Sheesh!

Bubbles is up. She gets on the ball by doing it from the floor and then hopping her feet up onto the bench. Then she does a push up.

Awesome.

I do two RackRuns! of 'Arnold Presses.' I think I disappointed IronMan by not doing a third but on my second run, on the way down the weights my form was pretty bad, my left arm struggling on getting the weight up. I'll get there.

ABS was not the nightmare of SUCK it was on Tuesday (I think I simultaneously amused and shocked my son with my excessive overuse of that word on Tuesday). It is still a major challenge for me and I still can't do it all. Bubbles wants me to do the knee thing longer but as I type this I can't remember what it is exactly (stupid, wonderful endorphins). I'll check with her tomorrow when she's showing me my new routine.

Have a fantastic day!