Oh dear god, the pain. It is pretty agonising to make any kind of movement today, the morning after training session number two.
So far this week Sarah has had me boxing, swinging kettle bells and leg lifting balls alongside press-ups, the plank, burpies (man, I hate those) and rather enjoyable hallelujahs (a squat-arm swinging combo).
I fell asleep on the sofa last night. When I woke and tried to rise, it felt like I couldn’t because someone was sitting on my torso. In my groggy state it took a few moments to remember the pain was self-inflicted and I had to plough through it, if only to get up the stairs to collapse in bed.
But every ache is a reminder that it must be working. These muscles clearly haven’t been used properly for far too long so they’re bound to protest at first.
That said, I do wonder whether there will come a point where I don’t ache at all after exercise. Does anyone – even elite athletes – ever get to that point? I imagine not. In the case of elite athletes, I imagine their determination to push themselves as hard as possible means they must still feel the odd twinge, even if for a short time.
That’s what I’m aiming for. Fewer aches that don’t last as long. But for now, I’ll take not feeling like a herd of elephants trampled me in my sleep.