My wife and I have always been intimate (i.e. we weren’t friends before we started dating, we just started dating) so it was strange when she seemed confused at my bedroom request. Granted, asking a woman who is not your mother to remove wood splinters from your arse is always gonna be met with a raised eyebrow, but it’s not like I was asking for a threesome.

Surprisingly, though, I didn’t mind so much when I was picking up the splinters and the drive home was pretty comfortable. Even the medicine ball squats were rather pleasant when it really shouldn’t have been, considering I pitched up at dojo with bruised quads – a condition the Sharks just sent Bismarck du Plessis home for, I must add.

The pain from last night’s session was delivered by something called a Swing Table and an old foe the Quad Squat Press.

I did, however, learn a couple more things about myself last night. One, my bum is a lot more hardy than I first thought (at school I’d do almost anything to avoid a beating, but mostly because my primary school PT teacher used sporting equipment to deliver punishment and made you put your head under a desk – but not like in a sexual way, just an abusive one). Two, I’m just like other men who will damn near kill himself in a workout when he’s the only man in a class full of women. And three, my ass is still too fat to lift off the ground through the full motion of scooting backwards across a floor – which in this case is a freshly sanded wooden deck, hence the splinters.

The good thing is that I’ve reached Echo in the programme and with Foxtrot to come tomorrow, there’ll be no more nasty surprises before I end this challenge because we’ll repeat the cycle. There is light at the end of the tunnel and I’m racing my not-so-lard-anymore ass towards it.