Last Friday my darling husband dropped by at the gym daycare when I was picking up the kids. This does sometimes happen, but not very often and not lately. Turns out he had a surprise for me as well as the little Oh Wailys. Their surprise was that they got to see their Dad during the day, my surprise was that Monday morning was to be the end of my excuses.
Some ratbag achilles tendon complaining of overuse was simply not a valid excuse for not exercising. Apparently. Mr Oh Waily had booked me in for an hour with his PT*. It took me a few minutes to drag my chin back up off the floor and mouth a certain range of expletives. I doubt the 3 year olds could lip read. I hope.
I was part flabbergasted and part horrified. And as time wore on became more petrified. So yesterday I turn up and am put through a range of exercises, bird dogs, planks, side planks, prone cobras, static jumps, a sort of glute bridge exercise and then on to a range of general strength exercises. A bit of woodchopping later, a failed attempt at a push-up** leading to the softer option of one arm dumbbell presses, some emptying cans and sundry other sweat inducing throwing of weight arounds.
By the end of two rounds I was feeling remarkably okay. A little hot and sweaty but not too bad otherwise. The tendon took it all really well. The rest of the day passed without incident and the dreaded achilles ache did not appear at dinner time, or any time after.
However, I had to get up a couple of times through the night last night and oddly enough around midnight everything was okay, but by 3:30 am every muscle in my body had gone on strike. The PT could have had me run a few miles on top of the workout and I wouldn’t have felt any pain at all. My whole body would have drowned it out.
I am now slightly worried about what tomorrow holds. After all, DOMs always seems to be at its worst two days after the offending exercise. At least for me. If there’s no blog post tomorrow – you’ll know why – too much pain to write.
Wish me luck.
* PT = personal trainer (I know it sounds poncey, but the effect of hiring one isn’t.)
** I am such a weakling.