I’m nearing the end of week 1 of 2 weeks of Self’s October lower body workout. The routine was, I’m convinced, something that Satan cooked up in the eastern wing of hell, which he only occupies when he’s shaping his most wicked plans, and then communicated in an Ambien and vodka-induced dream that a trainer was having. But, as difficult as this routine is, my body is doing it, which is proving that thing people say about exercise being 90% mental and 10% physical (definition of “mental” is arbitrary, no?). Sure, I have to pause after each set to weep and shake my fists at the heavens, but just when I think my quaking thighs will give, off they go again for the next set, which makes sense, since they are the largest muscle group and capable of a lot more than I typically ask of them (which is usually to prance about in heels, or lounge in comfy pants whilst re-watching season 3 of Mad Men).
When Lucifer breathed this routine into existence, he was engaging the scientific belief that strength training will maximize benefit if you fully exhaust one muscle before moving on to the next. This looks like doing 3 sets of 18 (54 reps) of 6 routines on the left leg before switching to the right. For those of us arithmetically-challenged, that’s 324 reps on one leg, then switch. To keep from injuring myself and because recovery from Monday’s version of the routine took 2 days, I had the bright idea of going for a brief bike ride before commencing the hours-worth of sheol. I’m sure this did some sort of good, but right now my bottom-half feels like rubber, so there’s no telling.
My goal, and I’ll let you know how this goes, is to go from this:
Thank you, if you’ve sent a note about how this and other posts have gotten you motivated to move more, or if you’ve sent me encouragement. I’m going to say the following, so that if you hurt yourself in the process I am not to blame.
Abigail is a professional, but not in relation to anything she talks about on this site. If you follow the footsteps that she reports on here, you may vomit, cry, break something, hate her, lay in a fetal position sucking your thumb, become discouraged, take up binge-drinking, take up watching Mad Men, and many other potential side effects. Use common sense, consult a doctor, or whatever your modus operandi is for decision making. Happy thigh-whittling!
P.S. The quote in the title is from my favorite Pooh and Christopher scene. Enjoy!