Look Up

Callouses are BACK on my hands, and I can wallow in the understanding, sitting here recovering, just how much I FUCKING LOVE WEIGHTLIFTING. Cycling can’t get close to the endorphin high, plus I can show off just how much work really was done during Lockdown (a lot, lets be honest). If there were money available, I’d find a way to build a weights bench into the house. Lifting is GREAT.

It isn’t about looking ‘a certain way’ either, this is just the means by which the whole of my body turns up and works together. It is a miracle cure for so much else too, not just because of the chemical processes at play. Also, I have REALLY missed my trainer, and realise with a somewhat heavy heart the only reason I was doing classes was for the interaction.

Exercise classes are now no longer what I want to be doing.

Yesterday gave me one important fictional realization too: this vanity project is gonna need a quite serious unpick and rewrite. That would previously have sent me scurrying away in fear but not now: it’s almost a requirement to do so, because the story’s evolving too. I have grown up stuff to do today but will be scheduling more time to attack this as the month goes on.

What was most stressful was the fact I could not easily write down what was needed when the moment came. The brain/page interface for fiction has altered, no doubt as a result of the acceptance of poetry as a workable alternative. It doesn’t help that I’m pretty tired after a week of hot weather and variable sleep, but I can guarantee I’ll sleep tonight. Heavy lifting will see to that.

Starting next week, many things must be rewritten…

Imagination

Planning is everything, they say. All of us who wear these belts are in a social group together, via the proprietary app. Yesterday morning the class trainer took part in the 45 minute version, managing to pull up an impressive 30 minutes in red. Seeing this was hugely helpful: it meant there was potential to run well. I also fuelled with some intent, meeting protein goal at lunchtime, in one hit.

We’ve spoken about aerobic threshold before, last night was all about managing the anaerobic threshold: normally 85% of heart-rate or 75% oxygen intake. Going too far into yellow is tricky for me, because exhaustion has pretty much followed whenever it’s happened. However, stamina training which the last few weeks represents gave me an interesting plateau to run in, and I didn’t stop to ‘recover’ between transitions.

I was exercising before each new round of exercise was supposed to start, so heart-rate did not drop. This ended up not as a HIIT class, but an exercise in endurance. However, form dropped significantly, especially at the end, and if I tried to duplicate this as a run I severely doubt 42 minutes would be doable. What it does show however is that with the right conditions, I’m in a new place.

Question is, can I prove this to confirm that is in fact the case…?

gym_time

Not gonna lie, I’m tired this morning, in a way that means a nap will be scheduled later in the day. This is a new and interesting World I find myself within, and potential is not going to be squandered. Day 15’s cross on the back of my shirt for RED January will not just signify almost halfway in my journey, but will serve as the testament to not only hard work, but sticking to a healthy diet.

All this shit really does work when you put it together.

Easy

If I needed a confirmation this is the right way to go, yesterday provided it in spades. A Saturday rejection was accepted and moved on from in under an hour (probably less) pushing me to finish site back end work that’s been put off for months. My daughter came and hugged me before bedtime. Husband’s out this morning, cycling around the county and everything is pretty much as perfect as it is possible to be.

Yes, I’d like to win something, but to do that I need to get better first.

calibrate

Is that better or Better, I find myself asking? I’ll grant myself the realisation that the mental side of things is more significant right now, that far more is being gained from the process of counselling than writing. However, that’s likely to alter as time goes on, obviously, especially as my work matures and develops. There has to be this continuous reminder, we’ve only been at this for two years.

Hard work matters everywhere: on an exercise machine, in the Gym, in relationships and friendships. I’m still kicking myself I missed a close friend’s birthday last week because that’s simply not where the head-space is right now. This is more thinking about myself than has taken place for a decade. As a result, and with other real life trauma to balance, I shouldn’t beat myself up too much about it. But I will.

makesometea

That means being up this early on a Sunday to make the most of quiet time before the day starts (and cricket, it’s great to have a World Cup to listen to) and then focusing mind to actually get the jobs done that need work. Having almost completed all the back end stuff last night, that’s what gets finished this morning, after which I can finish off the first draft of the Southend poetry.

It is already a brilliant day, and it’s only just begun.