Today I come to you a broken woman. I’m fairly sure someone carried out ass-replacement surgery on me during the night because it sure as hell feels like it’s made out of stone this morning and it certainly doesn’t respond to the signals my brain is trying to send it to carry out simple tasks like walking up stairs.
Last night at training we did leg circuits. I am one of those unfortunate women that has cyclists thighs, only I don’t cycle and never have. My trainer has decided to try and develop them into solid kicking weaponry, much to my disgust. So I spent an hour squatting against the ropes (that doesn’t sound particularly good) holding on to a swiss ball until I thought I was going to puke. When I finished and tried to kick, I knew today was going to be bad.
This morning I dragged my broken ass out of bed and it was as bad as I had suspected. I hit the boxing gym and things proceeded to get worse. Of all the cruel coincidences, we did leg circuits. That involved strange combinations of backward rolls and squats. Things started badly when I hit the mat for my first backward roll. I was wearing a halter top and had worked up a sweat during the first few rounds of punching. This served as perfect lubrication to slide me straight off the mat and under the ring at high speed. It hasn’t been cleaned under there in a couple of years. Not ideal.
Once I had suffered through the leg circuit for half an hour we moved on to abs. Another new excercise. This time I was hanging from a frame on the wall and lifting my whole body up and over my head until my knees were on the wall behind me. I was making noises that I didn’t know I was capable of making. The guys were pleased that I’d stopped screaming “Fuck, my ass, my ass” at the top of my voice at the same time. That was drawing undue attention from passers by.
So now I’m sitting at my desk trying to squeeze the last bit of strength from my core in order to stay upright on my chair.
And I tell you what, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.