Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Pump It - Louder!

No, this is not another post about my neighbours, the pump I am referring to is that of the pumping iron variety, as in a Pump class. I attended my first in about 3 years this week and let me tell you, I felt every damn minute of my hiatus. Even more so in the days following. What on earth possessed me to even go to a Pump class after such a long time? Simple, I felt like a change, well, that and I had a seminar to go to later in the week that interfered with my normal program. After all, it's just one class, piece of cake, right? Who knows, I might even enjoy it.

Buns of Crazy Image Credit

As I started setting up, my old instructor gave me a smug welcoming smile knowing how long I had been absent and just how much I would be cursing her name later on in the week when I was unable to even go to the toilet without getting the death wobbles. I knew it was going to hurt, I had taken (shorter) breaks before and vaguely remembered what a shock to the system it was, but I was in denial and nothing really prepares you. 

At first the weight feels fine, I can handle this, oh, I love this song, I think I have missed doing this! Then all of a sudden as I am watching my muscles ripple in my reflection they start the farking pulses, and singles and WTF are these half retractions you have just sprung on me? I am certain my arms don't move like that even without a barbell slowing me down and you expect me tap my feet in time to the music to prove I am not carrying all my weight in my toes?!? 

Lady if I wasn't frozen with arm pump right now I would be totally giving you the finger.

I glance up at the clock - we have only been here for 15 minutes. Crap, this is going to be the longest hour of my life. I am actually sending Skye telepathic messages to lose her shit in the creche room right now so I can make my escape, but of course, today she is totally fine in there. 


On we go and now it's time for some lunges, oh goody, there is nothing I like more than lunges, expect maybe burpees (it's time's like this is wish there was a sarcasm font). But let's not just do normal lunges of the up and down kind, noooo, let's get me to think, and count as I go down for three counts then spring back up quickly for one. Lactic acid created a major road block between my brain and my legs at that point which meant I looked more like I was trying to stop myself from breaking wind than sculpt my thighs.

I scan the room through clenched teeth, grimacing at the mere effort it is taking to move my eyes when I spot the guy next to me, in his mid 60s, tossing his 30kg bar around like a bloody toothpick. FFS! I know I am severely out of condition for this, but seriously???

I was so relieved when it was time to put the bars down and begin the ab work. I have never been so happy to do crunches in my life!

Finally the class is finished and as I look around these bastards are actually smiling! You have got to be joking, you can't possibly have enjoyed that. 

As much as I would have loved to share a picture with you of how ratshit I was when it was all over, my arms simply refused to move above waist height so all I could get was up-nostril shots. 


The experience did get me thinking though...

Could this be an indication that there is a gap in my workout program? 

Would my muscles and bone density benefit from me persevering with some kind of weight training? 
Most definitely. 

Do I like the idea of my muscles burning energy even while I am resting?
Who doesn't?

But holy balls, I would rather spend a whole hour doing burpees and start taking calcium supplements than put myself through that again.

I think I will stick with the Spin classes thanks.
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