What Can it Hurt?

Is that how I signed off my last post?

This is how it hurts: quads on a foam roller. Ouch! I had no idea my quads were capable of that degree of pain. I didn’t know that I could roll every muscle in my body on that darn thing either. Apparently torturing myself with the foam roller is job one on this mission.

I did sign up for this assignment, didn’t I?

A few days back, I met my new personal trainer for Round 1 of Warrior Dash training, also known as, let’s not injure ourselves in the process here, people. He delivered the results of my screening assessment and set out teaching me the new exercises that will be my daily homework: hard rolls, cross-crawls, hip-hinges while holding a five foot dowel against my back. Quadraped rocks, that look like nothing, but exhausted me. Every day. I promised I would do this, didn’t I?

When I pick up the kids from school, I tell them about my training session, explain the new exercises.

“So now both you and Dad will be exercising with a broom handle,” Lindsay exclaims when I explain the hip hinges. She’s always teasing my husband about stealing the kitchen broom for his shoulder exercises, usually while simultaneously taking a Skype call on his wireless headset. I have to admit, his multi-tasking is comical. Shoot, I guess I’m joining the comical brigade. Of course, that may be the only way I can beat him in the Warrior Dash.

“And then there’s this impossible exercise where you lay on your back and flip yourself on your side using only your core. No pushing off with your feet or anything.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing that since I was a LIttle Star,” my gymnast daughter says. “It’s second nature to me.” Phew. That’s good. I’ll have a second trainer. Heaven knows, I’m going to need it.

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