Prison Break
I was in a very deep sleep this morning when my alarm went off at 5 AM so my immediate response was "NO WAY" and I went back to sleep. Even Chubby Charles looked peeved, or as peeved as a tuft of white fur can look at 5 AM.
Tonight as penance I went to boot camp, since I was more awake (thank you sugar free Red Bull, my hero) and also since it wasn't as cold. We started to do some awful post-Thanksgiving push up/plank/pop squats/mountain climbers circuit and then had "interval" runs in between. I was just glad we weren't doing the Ring of Fire again because I still maintain it gave me a cold last time.
For our second interval run, McD announced we were going to be doing a prison run which is one of the few boot camp exercises that actually sounds as miserable as it is. Which is testament to how much it sucks. I mean obviously the Hercules who created the rest of the boot camp exercise (Ahem. McD.) thought that "lying leg raises" accurately describes "pain and agony while moving your legs" or that "plank" is synonymous with "thirty seconds of suicidal thoughts."
A prison run is basically where you put your hands behind your head and then you take off running as if you just busted out of Pelican Bay Maximum Security Prison. Which may not sound hard, but running without your arms is kind of like swimming without your legs or playing the piano without your hands. Rather difficult and, in this case, aerobically challenging.
From now on I am going to refer to the Indian Run as the Chain Gang Run, in an effort to create more truth in advertising.
When we got done with that misery, we started up some more circuits, most of which I've quickly forgotten in a sort of Stockholm-syndrome cycle that I go through post-workout. I do remember McD saying "You guys were all so talkative before the prison run!" No one responded, just various gasps and Hail Marys from the crowd. "What happened?" McD continued. "What happened to chatty?"
Had I not been utilizing every ventricle of my heart to pump blood to my shoulders at that moment in time, I would have responded "I think Chatty got shot escaping from prison."
I have my piano lesson tomorrow. Don't get your hopes up too much but expect a BIG announcement Wednesday.
Tonight as penance I went to boot camp, since I was more awake (thank you sugar free Red Bull, my hero) and also since it wasn't as cold. We started to do some awful post-Thanksgiving push up/plank/pop squats/mountain climbers circuit and then had "interval" runs in between. I was just glad we weren't doing the Ring of Fire again because I still maintain it gave me a cold last time.
For our second interval run, McD announced we were going to be doing a prison run which is one of the few boot camp exercises that actually sounds as miserable as it is. Which is testament to how much it sucks. I mean obviously the Hercules who created the rest of the boot camp exercise (Ahem. McD.) thought that "lying leg raises" accurately describes "pain and agony while moving your legs" or that "plank" is synonymous with "thirty seconds of suicidal thoughts."
A prison run is basically where you put your hands behind your head and then you take off running as if you just busted out of Pelican Bay Maximum Security Prison. Which may not sound hard, but running without your arms is kind of like swimming without your legs or playing the piano without your hands. Rather difficult and, in this case, aerobically challenging.
From now on I am going to refer to the Indian Run as the Chain Gang Run, in an effort to create more truth in advertising.
When we got done with that misery, we started up some more circuits, most of which I've quickly forgotten in a sort of Stockholm-syndrome cycle that I go through post-workout. I do remember McD saying "You guys were all so talkative before the prison run!" No one responded, just various gasps and Hail Marys from the crowd. "What happened?" McD continued. "What happened to chatty?"
Had I not been utilizing every ventricle of my heart to pump blood to my shoulders at that moment in time, I would have responded "I think Chatty got shot escaping from prison."
I have my piano lesson tomorrow. Don't get your hopes up too much but expect a BIG announcement Wednesday.
Labels:
boot camp,
piano,
running
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