A real pain in the arse

Thanks to Will, I couldn't get to the gym fast enough today. I woke up early - sans alarm - and started my day with gusto.

It was the perfect autumn morning; gorgeous blue sky, gentle breeze with a delightfully refreshing crispness in the air. Happily, I pedalled along the road thinking 'life is sweet'.

I was greeted with smiles so big that I wondered if the gym staff had organised a surprise party to celebrate the reunion between Will and I... then I realised that no one knows about this blog (yet).

I jumped on the treadmill to do my first 20-minute cardio workout before starting on weights (I also do 20-minutes after weights because, quite frankly, I rock... and it's part of my program).

It was 'leg day' today...

Just to explain, the design of my weight program is called 'super set' - and no, despite it being an apt term, it has nothing to do with my breasts.

Typically one does three sets per exercise before moving onto another. Super-setting, however, means you string together a number of exercises doing one set of each (be it on pin-loaded contraptions or free weights) before repeating the process till you've done three sets of each exercise - does that make sense?

The other feature of this program is that I'm to do low(ish) weights and high repetitions (16-20) to keep my heart rate reasonably high. It's more about endurance and toning than bulk and brute strength.

... after my first set of 20 leg presses (which I have been steadily climbing from 20kg to 50kg) I quickly moved onto the lunges and after my first one, I felt what could only be described as twang!

"Noooooo!!!" was my first thought... "no, not now, I've only just got Will back... sh*t, bummer, phuck," was the general conversation I was having with myself. I examined the pain and determined it was in my right glutes (the gym term for butt muscles) that shot down into my hamstring.

I limped over to the counter, right hand on right butt cheek, and asked what I should do. The general consensus was not to make matters worse by stressing it any further, go home, get a massage and see a sports therapist. Great.

I have no idea what I've done other than I can't walk up or down stairs bearing weight on my right leg. I have made an appointment to see a sports massage therapist this afternoon and I hope it's only a minor inconvenience, albeit a real pain in the arse.

Until tomorrow,

Grace xx

ps. Happy to consider all recovery tips and advice... I don't want to break Will's spirit - I fear our renewed relationship may be fragile.

Phuck it, I'll do it anyway

After completing my first blog entry yesterday, I made a dash to our new local gym. I strapped on my Mum's old 'Stackhat' and climbed on her retro 1980-something Apollo mint green girly bike and off I went in search of my former self.

I arrived at the gym with my free pass in hand to 'sample' what was on offer and then it started - that disconnected feeling...

On the inside, I was feeling positive - but then I caught sight of myself in the wall of mirror and I looked like a walrus out of water.

How can I feel one way and look another...?

After overheating, uhem, warming up on the cardio equipment I made way to the labyrinth of weights. This was once my domain, I reigned over it, I was the Queen and I loved it.

Now it terrified me.

As I looked around I was sure that I resembled those little kids that get lost in shopping aisles, "I want my mummy" (for my American and Canadian readers, all two of you, we say Mum, not Mom).

I opted for the free weights and did some simple upper body exercises. I strategically stood in front of the mirror so my face was covered by an A4 'Please return weights after use' sign.

As I stood watching my technique (I'm a stickler for that) I noticed the muscles twitching under the skin of my shoulders and for a split second - I saw me.

The me that LOVED going to the gym and pumping iron, the me that got so strong, became so lean and so toned that Guy Leech (yes, the Guy Leech - Ironman champion and my 80's heartthrob) once said "wow, you've got great calves"... but alas, just as quickly as it came, it went away. I was lost again. Lost in the shroud of my blubbery flesh.

At the end I was fighting with myself - what to do? And then I remembered Project Grace 2010 - and despite all my fears, worries and over thinking, I said "Phuck it, I'll do it anyway" and signed up for a 12-month membership (Pat said softening the 'F' word would make this blog more palatable for sensitive readers).

So that's it. Day 1 complete.

I have an appointment with Vince in an hour where we'll be doing an assessment (yikes!) and discuss my goals so he can devise a program. Vince is also training one of the current contestants of The Biggest Loser, which I find rather uncanny, seeing how I was runner up in a body transformation competition 7 and a half years ago (see photo). Perhaps the universe has brought us together for a reason...? I'm interested to see how it unfolds before me.

Thanks for reading and to everyone who has commented and sent me emails and Facebook messages - WOW! Thank you for making me feel like I'm someone worth finding!

Love and hugs,

Grace