What I gave myself for my birthday: an ass kicking.
I started with my new personal trainer, and she’s tough. She’s run 12 marathons and a bunch of triathlons. She’s very excited to be working with a runner, and her exercises focused on moves that will help me be a healthier, stronger one. She said she is invested in helping me achieve my BQ goal. I think she will be good for me, but I really missed my old trainer.
My new personal trainer had me do some horrible burpees that included push-ups and side leaps. I also did squat thrusts with a wide stance. Plus this variation on planks that made me wish I hadn’t been sorta bragging last week about how easy planks have become for me. Ego… bite the dust.
And I learned that I completely suck at jumping rope. I’m lucky I didn’t put an eye out.
Afterwards, I ran a super slow 4.4 miles on the treadmill to get the lactic acid out. My legs felt like lead until the last mile or so.
Then I went to the chiropractor. Holy hellspawn, having him work on my hip flexors and hamstring hurt. As in me laughing maniacally in pain, “Oh, man! That is miserable.”
My chiro thought that was funny. Sadist.
My husband is making me steak dinner and then we’re going to have popcorn. I can eat my weight in popcorn. It’s my weakness. Who needs chocolate or fried food? I’m bad about sharing it too. Just ask my son. He said I was mean to him when he wanted to share a large bucket at the last movie we saw. I don’t know why I’m like this. Except it’s MINE ALL MINE!!!