I thought I was going to die

For the last three weeks we've been doing circuit training outdoors. Week 1 was in the park and involved, in with the other stuff i.e. more running and dips and things, lots of running up and down steps, interspersed with jumping jacks. Week 2 was a cliff path walking circuit. 'That shouldn't be so bad,' I thought. I was wrong.

Having walked the cliff path at level 3 - let me explain: one foot immediately in front of the other as if on a tightrope, wiggle your bum, arms at right angles to your sides propelling you forwards (or that's the theory) - we then had to walk up and along a length of road as a caterpillar (not sure if that's the right term) in single file. The person at the back had to overtake everyone else to get to the front. At which point he/she was to slow down - otherwise it would have become impossible for anyone to overtake.

So there I am, bringing up the rear, and it's my turn to overtake. 'Go at your own pace,' Jules says at various times over the walk and then, when I'm overtaking, he says, 'Nick's catching up with you, Liz! Don't let him beat you!'

My head says, 'I don't care if he overtakes me; I don't care if everyone overtakes me. In fact I'd be quite happy to be left behind.' But my ... hm, what is it? ... stupidity says, 'Mustn't let him go past me. Must run to front. Now!'

This week it was described as a running circuit along the promenade. One thing in its favour: it's flat. And that's about it. I managed, I think, to do four 60 second running bursts - not consecutively you understand - plus another four 60 seconds walking/jogging. I thought I was going to die.

So convinced was I that my thought process went thus:
I can't get enough breath in  my lungs. I am going to collapse. Paul is here; he's a doctor. He is a gynaecologist but he probably knows enough to resuscitate me. Oh oh, I think I have wet myself. I had better not die tonight. It would be too embarrassing to die with wet pants. Keep working, lungs.

I should point out two things:
1) Only Husband is older than me in the group. Most of the others are young enough to be our children. Not to mention the fact that some of them do marathons, triathlons and other stupid things.
2) Husband said it's been forty years since he ran as much as he did last night; I have never run as much as I did last night.

P.S. It turns out I hadn't wet myself after all.

The humiliation of the long distance skipper

Tonight for the first time ever our weekly evening circuit training session moves outdoors. To Underhill Park to be precise. Scene of one of the most humiliating moments of my childhood.

It's a lovely park, closest to where I lived as a child, and scene of numerous school sports days. 

I'd somehow managed to not be in a race: I was always last to be chosen when teams for any sport were assembled. Now, if I'd known then what I know now I'd have kept quiet but Little Miss Honest had to open her big mouth and tell teacher. This was my first mistake.
'Oh dear, well, let me see, where can we put you? We can't have you not taking part, can we?'
'Can't we?'
'Goodness me no. Here you are, dear. You can be in the skipping race.'

The day of the race dawned bright and sunny; I was doomed. I lined up with my rope and glanced along the line of enthusiastic skippers. 
'Ready, steady, go!'
And we were off.

After it felt like I'd been skipping for hours I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me. This was my second mistake.

I tripped over my own feet and fell down. I'd have given up at that point but an encouraging teacher on the sidelines called to me, 'Get up! Keep on going!'

By the time I'd got up and untangled my rope everyone had crossed the finishing line. I glanced across to the teacher who'd cheered me on. 'Go on!' she insisted.

So red-faced - and not from exertion - I finally crossed the line, on my own and well after everyone else.

My gran who'd been watching said to me afterwards, 'If you hadn't looked back you'd have been all right.'
Yes, I suppose instead of coming last five minutes after everyone else I'd just have come last.

I am not looking forward to circuits tonight

What makes a good granny?

Or, more specifically, a suitable person to look after a child. I ask because tomorrow my suitability is to be judged. And by a 19-year-old boy. Okay, I exaggerate: he's probably in his twenties.

If they were to ask my grandchildren if I were a suitable person to look after them I know what their reply would be. 

But is the ability - and willingness - to sing, 'zoom, zoom, zoom, we're going to the moon', 83 times non-stop enough?

We shall see tomorrow. I've made a special effort and cleaned today but I don't think George would appreciate being deodorised. We shall have to be on our best behaviour and I must try not to say anything stupid.

Talking about stupid things have I told you about the latest fitness trend that has affected our circuit training sessions? It's called tabata and it's acclaimed as a fat-burning miracle - to which my fat seems immune.

Look it up on the internet and you'll find it associated with phrases like superfast, high intensity, fast and furious, bootcamp style. Got the picture? Jules, our trainer, introduced it to our sessions a good while ago now and he fits 3 tabata 4-minute extras in between our circuit stations proper.

If you fancy trying it here's one of my least favourite groupings.

So you're going to work as hard as you can for 4 minutes. There are 2 different exercises in this: squats and 'lie downs'. When you're squatting make sure your weight is on your heels and that your knees don't go in front of your ankles, and squat deeply. Do that 10 times.
Then stand up before lying down so that either your chest or your shoulder-blades touch the floor and then stand up straight again. Do that 10 times.
Keep on alternating between 10 squats and 10 'lie-downs' for 4 minutes - or until you can't push yourself any more.

You think it doesn't sound too bad? Lying down must be nice. You'd be right and wrong. Lying down is fine; it's the getting up that finishes me. You wouldn't believe how long 4 minutes can be.

After having to do that twice last week I'm really really hoping we're not going to have to do it tonight. 

Exercise until you rest

Either I have been imbued with superhuman strength or circuit training is more effective than I thought.


Husband said, 'Oh no! I've had that fork 36 years!'


Speaking of circuit training Jules has, over recent weeks, had us doing tabata routines. No, I hadn't heard of them either and still wish I hadn't.


In between the stations where we do 3 or 4 different exercises for a minute each, we have the 'extras', which change every week and, as I said, recently have been based on the tabata protocol and it goes like this.


In 4 minutes we do two exercises e.g. burpee and star jump, in a sequence:20 seconds star jumps;10 seconds rest;20 seconds burpees;10 seconds rest;and then repeat three times.


Sounds okay you think?
After the first minute you're thinking, 'This isn't too bad.'After the second minute you're thinking, 'We're only halfway through.'After the third minute, 'I can't do any more of this!'At the end, 'I'm dying ...'


(In the article linked to above it says, "So why isn’t everyone doing Tabata workouts? Well, most people would vomit—or come close to it—if they actually tried the routine that was used in the study.")


So when I turned up for circuits last night and Jules said he was trying out a new system for the extras I was relieved. Especially when he said, 'It's a rest-based system. The aim is to rest.'


At least that's what I thought he said.


What he actually meant was that the aim is to work so hard that you get to the point where you have to rest. 'If you can get through the four minutes without resting then you're not working hard enough. Or the weight you're using is too light.'


So you still think that's okay because you're in charge so you can rest when you want to - but pride - and the desire to be fit - creeps in. 'I must keep going, I must keep going, I must ... I can't.'


And when you've finally given in (not that far into the exercise in my case) that's when Jules says, 'well done!'