“Nic never felt so stiff and sore, in constant need of a good stretch (and something to steady her cup of tea) in the days before working-out. Surely there's a lesson to be learned there?
True, she couldn't walk and talk at the same time without gasping for breath in those days before working-out, but at least her muscles never felt the need to complain about overwork!
True, she couldn't walk and talk at the same time without gasping for breath in those days before working-out, but at least her muscles never felt the need to complain about overwork!
#ObliquesOfDeath #TricepKickbacksKickedBack #ThereAreAbsUnderTheFlabAndTheyHateMe
#ParallelUniverseSilverLinings"
All joking aside, it's quite horrifying to realise that there really was a time when I couldn't walk and hold a conversation simultaneously. A time when I'd seriously strain a hamstring attempting to climb off a chair after changing a light-bulb. A time when a trip to IKEA was looked on with trepidation thanks to the the mountain of steps to be climbed to get from the train- to the bus-station (and thence on to the store). Seriously. I love IKEA, but those steps would put such a downer on the whole trip that not even the promise of Swedish Meatballs would be able to save the day completely.
Yes, now I'm on the exercise bandwagon, I know it's not really advised to come off, either losing weight-wise or health-wise if you want to maintain weight loss, vigour, and/or flexibility. But don't get me wrong; if I could stop exercising tomorrow and not suffer from muscles turning to fat, depletion of strength, the inevitable weight gain, and a whole host of other detrimental health issues, I'd already be scribbling out a long list of TV series to binge-watch every evening for the rest of my life while vegging-out on the couch, instead of clicking on YouTube, and beating myself up with a variety of torturous exercise implements six nights a week.
I am not one of those born-again exercisers who only live for the time when they're sweating their guts out, whilst simultaneously, and loudly, spreading The Gospel Of Burpees. No. I shall leave worshipping at the Altar of Exertion to the sweating zealots (a band name for the taking if I ever heard one). But I do have to admit to enjoying the benefits of raising my heartbeat significantly for an hour or so at a time and of taxing my muscles to the point of fatigue, and truly appreciate not having to worry any more about people accidentally sitting on my lap when I'm travelling on public transport, because they thought they were going to sit down on my coat lying bunched up next to me on the other half of the seat, and not actually land upon my spreading thigh.
I mentioned this exercise con (as I'm now calling the exercise bandwagon in my head on days I'm aching more than normal) to a friend of mine - you know; beginning a new regime with good intentions, not realising that, like pets, it's for life, not just for [after] the holiday celebration of your choice, that is if you want to maintain the good work you've achieved so far - and she agreed that it is probably just as well that those at the start of a new workout programme, health kick, or attempt to lose weight aren't made more aware that once your body begins to get used to being punished, it needs more. Well, more of the benefits the punishment and suffering bring at least, and the stinger is that if you're hurting the best way to ease the hurt is to do more of the same!
So the only answer to workout-induced aches are more workouts, which seems rather unfair in the whole positive scheme of trying to better oneself, but it's probably just as well most of us don't know The Truth when we start out. I'm not 100 percent sure that had I been given a notice saying ‘Congratulations! You're about to embark upon a life-changing regime. It's going to be hard, and you're going to hurt a lot, but the benefits will be amazing! Disclaimer: you'll never be able to stop once you start because exercise malady begets exercise remedy. Vengeful God, Old Testament style' I'd have been quite so eager to start.
I exaggerate, of course. I'm only really complaining because I ache an awful lot more now than I did when I was a couch potato; a time when the only heavy lifting I did was the dragging of my larger self from place to place, and the only ‘cardio' my heart got was the straining it had to do all day and every day just to keep me upright. Ah, good times, good times!
In essence I was punishing myself a thousand times more per day back then than I do now, in an unhealthy and unconscious way, but even though I think I've now tipped the balance in my favour, I still maintain the right to lament over the fact, yes fact, that tomorrow my rear, thighs, mid-section, and upper arms will be ruing the day four years ago when I first picked up that Wii remote and changed my life!
All joking aside, it's quite horrifying to realise that there really was a time when I couldn't walk and hold a conversation simultaneously. A time when I'd seriously strain a hamstring attempting to climb off a chair after changing a light-bulb. A time when a trip to IKEA was looked on with trepidation thanks to the the mountain of steps to be climbed to get from the train- to the bus-station (and thence on to the store). Seriously. I love IKEA, but those steps would put such a downer on the whole trip that not even the promise of Swedish Meatballs would be able to save the day completely.
Yes, now I'm on the exercise bandwagon, I know it's not really advised to come off, either losing weight-wise or health-wise if you want to maintain weight loss, vigour, and/or flexibility. But don't get me wrong; if I could stop exercising tomorrow and not suffer from muscles turning to fat, depletion of strength, the inevitable weight gain, and a whole host of other detrimental health issues, I'd already be scribbling out a long list of TV series to binge-watch every evening for the rest of my life while vegging-out on the couch, instead of clicking on YouTube, and beating myself up with a variety of torturous exercise implements six nights a week.
I am not one of those born-again exercisers who only live for the time when they're sweating their guts out, whilst simultaneously, and loudly, spreading The Gospel Of Burpees. No. I shall leave worshipping at the Altar of Exertion to the sweating zealots (a band name for the taking if I ever heard one). But I do have to admit to enjoying the benefits of raising my heartbeat significantly for an hour or so at a time and of taxing my muscles to the point of fatigue, and truly appreciate not having to worry any more about people accidentally sitting on my lap when I'm travelling on public transport, because they thought they were going to sit down on my coat lying bunched up next to me on the other half of the seat, and not actually land upon my spreading thigh.
I mentioned this exercise con (as I'm now calling the exercise bandwagon in my head on days I'm aching more than normal) to a friend of mine - you know; beginning a new regime with good intentions, not realising that, like pets, it's for life, not just for [after] the holiday celebration of your choice, that is if you want to maintain the good work you've achieved so far - and she agreed that it is probably just as well that those at the start of a new workout programme, health kick, or attempt to lose weight aren't made more aware that once your body begins to get used to being punished, it needs more. Well, more of the benefits the punishment and suffering bring at least, and the stinger is that if you're hurting the best way to ease the hurt is to do more of the same!
So the only answer to workout-induced aches are more workouts, which seems rather unfair in the whole positive scheme of trying to better oneself, but it's probably just as well most of us don't know The Truth when we start out. I'm not 100 percent sure that had I been given a notice saying ‘Congratulations! You're about to embark upon a life-changing regime. It's going to be hard, and you're going to hurt a lot, but the benefits will be amazing! Disclaimer: you'll never be able to stop once you start because exercise malady begets exercise remedy. Vengeful God, Old Testament style' I'd have been quite so eager to start.
I exaggerate, of course. I'm only really complaining because I ache an awful lot more now than I did when I was a couch potato; a time when the only heavy lifting I did was the dragging of my larger self from place to place, and the only ‘cardio' my heart got was the straining it had to do all day and every day just to keep me upright. Ah, good times, good times!
In essence I was punishing myself a thousand times more per day back then than I do now, in an unhealthy and unconscious way, but even though I think I've now tipped the balance in my favour, I still maintain the right to lament over the fact, yes fact, that tomorrow my rear, thighs, mid-section, and upper arms will be ruing the day four years ago when I first picked up that Wii remote and changed my life!
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