If, like me, you’re one of those people who believe that the week really starts on Sunday, you’ll be able to decipher the title of today’s post quite easily.
Yesterday it was paintballing. I’d never been before, so you can understand my apprehension when people have been filling my head with stories of pain and hurt, especially when I abhor any physical discomfort myself. As the time drew nearer though, it became more of a backseat priority, as I began to actually look forward to taking part in the activity.
Those feelings were soon wiped clean out of my head when the first bullet hit.
You see, a hard pellet, cooled by the winter air, although filled with paint, when speeding at 200 miles per hour from a gun barrel powered by compressed air hits you, the first thought isn’t ‘Damn, I’m out’.
It’s more like ‘By Zeus, that hurts!’, and you proceed to inspect yourself testing the affronted area of skin for any damage.
Well, that was my thoughts and actions anyway…
The point is, however, that paintballing hurts. A lot. I only did two rounds before my pain threshold was reached, and my left arm (strangely my trigger arm, too) was no longer of use to me in any way, shape, or form. I was glad to get out, to be honest. The mud was doing my trainers no good (they’re currently drying on the radiator). One thing I did enjoy was dashing from cover to cover, but when you wake up with those tender arms…
You tend to forget about those things.
That brings me to today…which, until about three hours ago, was going quite well.
Then, since I attend my mother’s fitness class, she expounded her plans to me for the night.
I was less than impressed.
Boot Camp. 30 seconds intensive, 10 seconds rest. Imagine a rigorous chain of push-ups for 30 seconds, then 10 seconds to catch your breath…
Yeah, I saw you cringing back there. I’m currently resting my arms fully on my desk as I type, with minimal movement for maximum comfort. I don’t want to imagine the pain if I move them.
Now, I sad before about press-ups. That wasn’t all though. Visualise the same routine with press-ups, crunches, planks, mountain climbers, squats, and star jumps.
Yes, I said star jumps. Three per second. Arms above your head.
Yes, fear them. I know I did.
They all left their marks though, I can literally feel them by moving any muscle in the slightest manor.
So, you can understand why I’m here now, looking at my bed with unsuppressed lust, eyes drooping, and fingers moving slower by the second, while having an internet debate with my nervous system, begging it to shut down. I think I’ll leave you to think on both of my days, and to wonder…
Is it really worth the fun and fitness, when there is so much pain involved?
This is Alex, signing off.