Back in the Saddle

 

So this past week has seen me shuffling into the gym feeling like Dug wearing the Cone of Shame.

It's hard when I feel even weenier than my original weenitud starting-level.  It also didn't help that I spent part of the last couple of days watching the Special Forces Training TV series on the history channel.  It was humbling to realize that I weigh less than the backpacks the candidates lugged all over North Carolina for two weeks.

But anyway, today I was finally able to do some rowing and push the (pink) Prowler toward the Happy Door (a door across the parking lot with strange tape on it in a pattern that looks like two eyes and a smile.)  I was so relieved to be kicking off stress and moving in a way that made my heart jump and pound.  Rest is boring. Unless I am asleep.
I tried extra-hard to do it as effortlessly as possible so Paul would let me keep going.

Of course, first I had to endure the sledge-hammer in the abdominal aorta activity in an attempt to hit my tight psoas muscles.

Then Paul decided to loosen up my hamstrings with the T-Rex stretch.  He worked on the left leg for several minutes before saying, "ok!" in his That Is The Last Stretch voice.
   So I totally relaxed and he took advantage of this to lean into it more to stretch it even further!  This could cause trust issues.

He did get me working on some leg-lifting butt exercises which he then promptly complicated by pushing down on my legs
(see above photo for perspective.)

At any rate, I got back up on the horse.