I had a Fight Club moment at training last night. You know that scene when Tyler recites the rules, and he gets to rule 8 and tells the noobs to fight? Well the opposite of that. The noobs stayed on level 1, the sophomores had to jump to level 2.
Just to recap, bodyweight training is simple if you’re 12 and still have all the suppleness of youth uncorrupted by 4am gatsbies after a heavy night’s drinking. Problem is, I’m not 12. And although my 4am activity is now dominated by nappy changes and feeding my 6-month old daughter, it’s the 16 years of punishment before her birth that’s causing the problems.
So, after three taxing training sessions, I’m now expected to do moves like a “screw pushup” (check the video at the bottom of this post) and other variations on moves I had barely mastered. And once again, my body betrayed me and I ended up on the floor.
I can report, though, that I have narrowed down my extensive list of weaknesses to three key areas: both my knees (which have had many hours of physio in the past and I kinda expected to fuck out eventually), my seemingly non-existent core, and my right elbow.
Chief among these niggles is my right elbow, which is a result of a weak forearm. Which is a result of a lifestyle choice I made years ago, to dribble with my other hand (I was a left half in field hockey, get your mind out the gutter).
But luckily I work at Men’s Health and good advice on building strength is not too far away, so I’ve been working a stress-ball to help restore what was lost. Hopefully next week you’ll read about me dominating the screw-up and jump lunge like a champion. With the mandatory follow-up blog about how level 3 kicked my arse.