At the gym my trainer decided to do some zoo. Basically, this involves me being a bear, a frog, a gorilla, an iguana, and a crab. It’s interval training using animal moves across the gymnasium floor.
He makes it look very easy, when he shows me the styles, but my body hardly wants to play along at all. It’s fair to say that by round two my iguana was more like a dead snake and so we switched that out for something resembling a paralysed stick insect trying to do press ups.
I hadn’t realised how frustrating it is when your body can’t do something. Of course I have been in this position before (incapable) but at the earlier body fails, I just shrugged and turned around. This time I am actually trying to do the moves and I hardly can’t. Be the fecking frog I tell myself, and instead I’m more like a tadpole. Also it must make a difference that he is watching and pushing me. What I mean is that I notice my own point at which I would give up and instead I have to keep going. I’m quite voiciferous about my displeasure about this passed threshold.
Mostly I laugh, exclaim, complain and pant my way through it until literally my body gives up. Eventually, I think (hope) he realises it’s less laziness and more incapacity and today he let me finish early for stretches. (The bright red face and tendency to collapse every time he said “rest” must have been a clue.) I don’t know if it was my natural endpoint or if I just made him stop by being so hopeless. I am hopeful that he knows when to push and when not to. He has worked with the Brisbane Lions and apparently the Fijian Olympic team. I’ll have to remember to tell him not to go easy on me, because I can be a manipulative pain in the ass. That must be my inner cow.