Sunday Night Fitness Blogging: Overdoing It

This week I may have bitten off more than I can chew.  It’s Sunday night and I am barely able to heave my swollen thighs from one end of the sofa to the other.  This feels like that time I ran 13 miles and then couldn’t summon the strength to change the T.V. channel because I would have to sit up to reach the remote.  It’s idiocy such as this that lead to foolhardy dreamlike observation of science programmes like Wonders of the Solar System.

I did this to myself: I do not ask for sympathy.  Just a giant glass of very red, very numbing wine.


A two-minute warm up, which was fuck-up number one of the week: that should have been five minutes, and my calf-muscles lectured me bitterly about it the next morning.  Never rush your warm-up!

Treadmill intervals, trying to push it a little bit: 1 minute at 12.5kmph, then 2×2 min at 12kmph, and 2×1 min at 13kmph, with 2-minute recoveries in between each burst of speed.  I discovered that 13kmph is damned fast for someone who is 5ft 3inches short, even if it the dude running on the machine next door is loping along without even trying at 12.5kmph.  I dare not go faster, because I was dangerously close to falling over sideways and shooting off the back end of the treadmill.  We all know how quickly that 15 minutes of fame would make it around suburbia, don’t we?

I managed 3 x 10 unweighted normal squats, 2 x 60 seconds plank, 2 x 12 of the evil 12kg dumbells press and rows, and then I went home and ate a giant bowl of pasta.


I ran a slightly shorter version of the same run that counted as my ‘long’ weekend run last week, and I pushed it for speed a little bit: 3.8 miles in a shade under 40 minutes.  Worryingly, half way around my calf muscle felt like it was going to detach from my bone, or something.  It was spasming all over the place, and I’m not sure whether running through it was the right way to go.  We’ll see!


There were beers after work, but I elected to wuss out and go home instead.  It’s been an intellectually challenging week what with trying to get my head around having two jobs simultaneously, and I didn’t have the mental energy left for small-talk with a group of people two of whom I despise.  What better way to unwind than to throw some heavy shit around?

I warmed up on the treadmill for 13 minutes, starting off slow-walking, building in some incline and then some speed.  My calf muscles complained a little bit, and the right one is definitely worse than the left one.  I swear I will never truncate my warm-up again, even if I am short on time.

Circuits with weights: squats (first set of ten unweighted, then with 3kg, then with 5kg load), then plank, then 5kg dumbell military shoulder-press 3 x 10, then back hyper-extensions 3 x 10.  I repeated that three times, then moved to dumbell presses (12kg for 2 x 12) and assisted pull-ups (45kg assistance for the first set of 10, 40kg for the second and third sets).  I also shoe-horned in a couple of sets of 12 dumbell rows but I had to drop it to 10kg for the second set because I had no strength left.

Final five minutes on the elliptical step.


That will be the last time I leave my house without a map.  I’ve done it before in the countryside and committing the route to memory worked fine, because there were three turns and three roads and you’d have to have the IQ of a potato to screw it up.  This time I was heading through town, with twisty-turny bits, road-names that are all variations on a theme of Something Dell or Whatever Dale, and hills.  Motherfucking hills the size of a mountain.  After two language-inducing behemoths all recollection of the route had disappeared from my bean, and I managed to run in a circle before figuring out I’d gone quite wrong.

I took the executive decision not to run up any road with the word ‘rise’ in its name: within a few minutes a synapse triggered and I found myself back on track.  I only added half a mile to my route, making it six miles.  Six miles.   Then when I got back, K-man needed help shifting a pile of rubble he’d made out of the tarmac that used to be at the back of our house.

I am officially done: descending the stairs is challenging.  But I do feel rather better about my ten-mile prospects at the end of October.  Next week I’m cutting back to three workouts.  I’ll also post another bad picture of my left arm.  Let’s hope for progress!  How are the rest of you doing?


3 Responses to “Sunday Night Fitness Blogging: Overdoing It”

  1. 1 Mrs. G. August 23, 2010 at 1:12 am

    No comment this week on my success.

    Add a cup of epsom salt to a hot bath (maybe a couple of drops of lavender or eucalyptus essential oil if you’ve got then around) and soak for as long as you can stand it. It works!

    Good luck this week friend.

    • 2 nic August 23, 2010 at 9:26 pm

      Hm. I thought I replied to this before, but the internet must have eaten it. I was saying that epsom salts are a great idea, and then I hoped that you find your exercise mojo again soon. Maybe try altering the workout?

  2. 3 Jonathan September 4, 2010 at 5:54 pm

    At least you are running! I’m not – and hearing stories from your good self about sweating cobs while putting the effort in makes me feel like… well – like somebody who’s sat on his ass reading blogs… lol

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