Harry’s been training me for, oooh nearly four months now.
In that time I’ve got to read him pretty well. We do hard on the muscles session followed by more on the speed sessions. I know that.
I think he knows me. If he says ‘be careful jumping back, it’s slippy’ he knows (NOW!) to stand behind me so I don’t fall over.
And now I know ‘well, you have worked pretty hard’ that means two days of ‘ooohing’ and ‘ouching’ around the office. I’m ok walking, once I’ve warmed up, but every time I get up from my desk the guy I share an office with gets to hear me run the gamut of grumbling expletives.
Not only do I now have inner thighs packed with burning rocks but my core muscles are deeply unhappy about my laughing. Or breathing.
And it’s not those front muscles that make up a six-pack, or in my case the soft squidgy bit at the front. No, it’s the side muscles that run from your armpit to your waist. You use these quite a lot in running because when you run you make a kind of twisting motion and that engages these muscles, so having them strong; no bad thing.
Of course walking like a furious robot means I’ve not been able to run yet this week. And I have had half a mind to text Harry and have a whine.
But then the other half thinks he wouldn’t push me further than I could take and I do like pushing to my limit.
Did I mention I’ve been thinking about buying a medicine ball?
Am I completely out of both halves of my mind?!