Something happen to people who take the plunge into the ocean of healthy living. Besides the fact that most simply drown and get washed up on the beach of fat and failure, some actually learn to stay afloat. The ones who manage to control some kind of satisfying exercise regime that fits nicely into the niche between a coach potato and marathon runner. Other freaks turn into really strong ultra swimmers and they end up as poster children for transformation and the power of the human spirit.
For the few of us who stay afloat, it implies we struggle through a daily sacrifice of sleep, in exchange for sweat and perseverance. Not mentioning stuffing our faces with everything that is far from delicious. Because let’s state the obvious; if it’s worth eating, it’s gonna make you buy a bigger dress size. So we tend to stick with pieces of cardboard infused with green inspired shit salads because we are actually sad human beings desperately seeking attention. Continue reading
I’ve been busy. On all fronts. And things changed. Drastically.
This week marks the first time that I was able to persuade Princess to join us in our routine torture sessions before the sun shows his friendly, fat face. (I’m still moderately intrigued as to why she suddenly agreed to join us but in order to protect my sanity, I’m not going to dwell on that too long.)
Selling the concept of training in the morning was far easier than the execution thereof. It took a lot of persuasion to finally get her to wake up and get dressed in some kind of sports attire. Think ‘trying to fit and elephant in a mini cooper’. Not that I’m insinuating she’s fat because she definitely is not. She’s not even overweight. Besides wouldn’t I be an awful parent if I called my daughter an elephant? Even though she laughs like Heffalump. I’m getting side-tracked… Continue reading
Don’t confuse determination with desperation
The road to fitness is a lonely one. A jungle where muscles grows scarcely and with great difficulty among the roots of perseverance and determination. Where waterfalls of fat are draped over cliffs of protein stacks, scattered along the river of sweat. It’s a narrow, winding path with many obstacles. It leads you over and under and around dumbbells, barbells, treadmills, water fountains, headphones, playlists, guy nipples, yoga pants, public showers, nakedness and douche bags. It’s a treacherous path, not meant for the fainthearted or the weak. Or normal. Continue reading
When I decide to embark on an adventurous activity, what other people might call a stunt, I employ a rational, logical thought process; prior to execution of said activity. Maybe it’s because I’m risk-avert or because I’m older but I reckon the main reason would be simply because I’m not stupid. And the process doesn’t even take that long, it consists of a few quick questions before I make the call of “Yes, let’s dot this!” or “No, are you frigging crazy?”
These questions include non-mindblowing ones like “Will I get hurt?”, “Should I tape this?”, “Would other people consider this to be utterly stupid?”, “Is this normal behavior?”, and then just to be sure, another “Will I get hurt?”
It’s clear that my system is not employed by everyone.
A big ball makes you bounce. Who knew?
I love the slow decent after she hits the wall. I can’t help but yell “TIMBER!”
Be careful, you might hurt yours…Too late… *insert shouch*
In the spirit of my second week doing Cross-fit training, I share this poor guy’s predicament, if only for how his body must feel after that fall. It’s also another reason why the Wife never gets on our treadmill.
Maybe he should consider paying a little more for his fitness equipment. It clearly illustrate why we shouldn’t believe everything we see on those extended television adds. You know the ones where they make ordinary people seem totally incapable of using everyday utensils like a butter knife.
One of the promises I made to myself in January was to commit to a twelve week fitness and diet regime that kicked off about four weeks ago. Why? Well, let’s just say I was expanding and I don’t earn enough money to replace my whole wardrobe. I needed to up my game.
Besides, gaining weight is not all my fault. I blame Christmas. And the holidays. And the heaps of easy accessible, great food. And the wine! Yes, I know it’s blasphemy, but I blame the gods of red wine too! Then there’s the fact that I’m forty-ONE, which is not doing me any favours. Everyone knows that when middle-age walks through the front door, metabolism moves out. And then you’re stuck with that unpleasant, strange roommate whom you should, but don’t, recognise. Continue reading
Sorry for causing painful flashbacks to some of you as you read my title. And if you’re not moved in any way, you’re a masochist. You probably consider 50 Shades of Grey a beautiful piece of literature and like all things kinky and painful. To wet your sick appetite for more moments of pain spread throughout this post, I’ve decided to add some visual stimulation in the form of tooth porn…
No I didn’t. Or rather, I couldn’t. The high levels of disgust after seeing some disturbing pictures of bad teeth prevented me from posting. Most of them I seriously regret finding. Which should be a warning to all: Don’t Google Image everything you can think of!
I decided to play it safe and stick with a simple Wikipedia schematic that would be appropriate for a (mostly) kid friendly blog. This will prevent permanent scaring of my readers or not.
Got this pretty little diagram from Wikipedia, which might still haunt your dreams for a very long time.