Tag Archives: pain

This Kind Of Sore Is Good, Right?

In the here & now, , ,

pain

I don’t mind admitting that I’m a full-bodied wuss…pain is something I avoid like plague. Under any circumstances. Do you remember when seemingly all of womankind was banging on about the Fifty Shades of Grey books..?  I took one look at the concept and thought nah, not for me. Christian Grey would’ve received a swift kick in the clackers if he’d tried to pull any of that shit on me, no matter how well he filled his suit.

So, one of the things I was dreading the most about turbo-charging my fitness regime were the sore muscles that I knew were coming my way. I was probably dreading those more than actually flinging myself about in the first place. In the past, on the odd occasion where I’ve pushed myself physically I’ve been miserable for days afterwards with what felt like toothache in all my limbs.

Having said that, I’ve not really ever done anything like this before, under the supervision of someone who actually knows what they’re doing. The only guidance I can ever remember being given were the warp speed inductions at whatever gym I’d ventured into, usually delivered by a spotty teenager with a whistle around his neck who I never saw again, unless it was at a distance as he closely supervised a skinny string bean with buns of steel at the other side of the gym.

On Friday, with two classes under my belt, I was sore. I wasn’t as sore on Thursday morning as I’d been expecting, other than my bruised knees of course, but the second session was much harder and on Friday, everything ached. I had a long hard day at work, travelling to London and back with a fair bit of walking throughout the day. The first hurdle was actually getting on the train in the first place, I mean that’s a big-assed step up when your legs feel like lead. And pulling myself up on the door wasn’t really an option since my arms also felt like lead.

My arms hurt the most, I think. They’ve led a very sedentary life for ever and I’m acutely aware that I have no upper-body strength at all. Press-ups, even from my knees, not to mention planking and those dratted kettle bells had come as a shock, I’m not going to lie. I bought a coffee at the station before we set off and I’m only exaggerating a tiny bit when I say I looked at it on the table in front of me on the train and wondered whether I could get away with putting my head down and slurping it without actually picking up the cup.

At one point I sneezed, and without warning a really loud AHHHH shot out of my mouth immediately afterwards as my stomach muscles screamed in protest at the sudden need to tighten. You don’t even want to know how many heads whipped around in the carriage to see what on earth was going on, it must’ve sounded like someone was trying to murder me.

So, it hurt. But I couldn’t help thinking, that nine months ago the same schedule with trains and walking and stuff would have been equally torturous just for different reasons. At way over three hundred pounds, everything hurt. After just a few minutes of walking, my lower back used to hurt way more than any achy muscles I’ve experienced this week.

I actually used to worry that my spine was going to give way under the sheer weight of my torso, and quite apart from that, my feet and ankles would swell horribly, not to mention my left knee burning like there was a red hot poker through the middle of it. I could never get comfortable on the train, and if someone came and sat beside me I’d be so paranoid about how much space I was taking up I’d hold myself stiff and try really hard not to spill into their space.

Blimey. The weirdest thing just happened…I found myself getting a bit teary when I thought about how I used to feel. I’ve come such a long way since then. I mean, I know I’ve got a long way to go still, but genuinely, being fat doesn’t occupy my every waking thought any more. I am still fat, there’s no getting away from that. But it’s no longer the kind of fat which means I can’t do things that normal people do. And it’s only when I shine a light on the way I used to feel that I remember exactly what it was like. It was awful.

So this week I’ve felt the kind of sore that says I’ve worked for it, rather than the kind of sore that invades my body because of the tonnage I’m hauling around.

I’ll take that.

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

OUCH That’s Torn It

In the here & now, , ,

cartoon of a girl slipping an falling on a banana clipart

So, you know that expression pride comes before a fall..? Yeah well I didn’t actually think it was meant literally you know? I was almost home yesterday after a nice long walk with the furry one, and I was feeling proud, having seen the output from a really great week. I had a proper spring in my step, I mean I was motoring. I’d shaved five whole minutes off my best three-mile-walk time, and I was nearly home. And then I fell. Well, I’m saying that…I didn’t fall exactly.

If I’d fallen I don’t think I would be hurting quite as much as I am. I had to come right into the side of the lane so a car could get past, and I was so busy reeling Charlie dog in on his extending lead that I didn’t take much notice of where I was putting my feet. So my left foot hit a patch of moss and mud, and as I followed the step through and transferred my weight onto my left leg, before I had chance to react it sort of took off unexpectedly and although I managed to stay upright, I pretty much did the splits.

Ouch, just bloody ouch. My body’s not built for moves like that, you know? I kind of hovered there with my tushy skimming the ground and wondered how in God’s name I was going to get up again. Of course the car had gone sailing past and even splashed me, to add insult to injury. Twat. And as I descended in slow motion to his level, Charlie immediately thought it was some new kind of game and he was well up for some fun, running around me in circles with his tail wagging ten to the dozen. I managed to push myself upright and hobble home, but oh lord I swear I almost split my difference.

So now, today, I’m really really sore. The muscle that runs all the way up the back of my right leg to my butt cheek is screaming at me with every step and I feel like I’ve had a good kicking. I didn’t actually hit the deck, but I may as well have…the back of my thigh and my bum are a lovely shade of purple. Overnight everything stiffened up, so as I drafted this first thing this morning, having already hobbled to the bathroom and back I knew today was going to suck.

The funniest thing, was going to pick up my mum yesterday afternoon so she could come and spend Sunday afternoon here as she generally does and walking so tentatively to her room through the residential home where she lives that I almost got overtaken by an elderly gentleman on his zimmer frame. In hindsight I should have borrowed it, something tells me it might have come in quite handy over the next few days!

So, no hurt machine for me last night, and I suspect I’m going to be keeping a low profile for the rest of this week where exercise is concerned…having just visited the doc, I’ve come out armed with anti-inflammatories and painkillers and instructions to take it very easy for the next few days before building up my activity again slowly as things start to settle down.

The best laid plans, and all that. Still, frustrating as it is, it could have been worse. Nothing’s broken, just twanged muscles, a trapped nerve and a multicoloured backside. I’m a tough old bird, and I’m sure by the weekend I’ll be feeling a bit better but I can’t even begin to tell you how much it hurts!

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

It’s All In The Head

Biggest struggles, , , ,

painI’ve always believed that I was quite effective in the ‘not giving up on stuff’ department, in fact more than once I’ve confidently used the words tenacious and determined to describe myself. I can think of some cracking examples throughout my life where I’ve clung on till my fingertips bled in pursuit of something I believed in, and I’d even count one or two successful visits to Skinny Town in the past as examples I can bandy about of me being hardcore when it counts.

Except when I say clung on until my fingertips bled, I am of course speaking metaphorically. No actual bleeding happened, because that would have meant pain, and I don’t do pain. I mean don’t get me wrong, there are times in your life when you can’t avoid it – having a baby for example, or getting sick.

To be fair when my boy was born I wheeled out the diva and demanded so much pain relief I was probably stoned for his first six months, but I have been through some other tough medical stuff where I had to just suck it up. I’ve talked in here before about the run in I had with the big C which involved a fair few cut and shut jobs. Sometimes you don’t have a choice and getting on with it is the only option open to you.

But pain, in pursuit of a goal? You know, when you have a choice, and could choose not to hurt..? That I’m finding it harder to get my head around. And before you laugh and call me a fanny, I know I’m only talking about six minutes on a cross trainer on the lowest setting, it’s hardly the north face of the Eiger, right? But don’t forget I’m carrying the equivalent of a whole other person around in my pants, and no matter how large or small the frame of reference, pain is pain. I did six minutes this morning and it hurt.

I almost gave up…it was a really close call that I didn’t. The asshole in my head was determined to build on his victory from yesterday when I’d programmed ten minutes but managed only five. I did complete the other five minutes last night before I went to bed but made the rookie mistake of not warming up or cooling down – I mean come on it was five lousy minutes, who knew it even mattered? For future reference, it does.

My legs were bitching at me before I’d even opened my eyes this morning and I made the journey from the bed to the cross-trainer in the style of Norman Wisdom, a fact shamelessly exploited by the asshole voice as a reason to quit as I winced my way through six minutes of hurt.

I’m really going to need to get a handle on this. When you google phrases like pushing through the pain, or digging deep to achieve your goals, you get hundreds and hundreds of inspirational quotes, but not a single bloody one that tells you how. I don’t need platitudes, I need advice and it’s a bit thin on the ground.

I’m scared that I’ll give up…there, I’ve said it. I’m scared that when the going gets tough I’ll just fold and think nah, not for me. And I can’t. I need to learn how not to give up, and practice not giving up ’till it’s baked into my psyche. Imagine if I’m halfway over that mountain in Cuba, and I get a blister that really hurts. They’re hardly going to call mountain rescue are they? I’ll be expected to just bloody get on with it and stop moaning. I need to find a way of pulling out the kind of mental resilience which keeps you nailed on to the task in hand even when you hurt.

If there was a pit of crocodiles under the cross trainer, or some device primed to blow my buns off if I slipped below so many strides per minute I’d have no choice but to keep going…right now my kit-bag of reasons not to quit is feeling a bit light, so any suggestions would be gratefully considered 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!