I Don't Want To Play Anymore

Over the past three months Charles has been doing weights with his brother-in-law Chris on Friday nights.  Just to make it a real family event, Charles' sister (Chris' wife) Jen comes too and brings her two little girls.  Jen and I gossip and chat in the kitchen while the kids go nuts and the men do their thing in the garage and then it's a massive chaotic dinner before they go home.  It's the highlight of my week and I love every aspect of it, from having another mother with small children to soothe me that I'm not the only one losing sleep, to the havoc the kids wreak and the after-glow from exercise I get to see in my man.  Not to mention getting to watch them do push-ups and sit-ups in the living room. I digress.

Friday Nights:  Kids Gone Wild

This weekly ritual has come at the right time for us.  The kids are now old enough to entertain each other and be trusted in the backyard alone.  It's the first time since Charlotte was born that we've been able to dedicate a decent amount of time to exercising and it's starting to snowball.  Charles has been training with Chris and another friend of ours, Big Jim.  On his off days he's been training me in weights and boxfit too.  Things have been gradually coming together and I can feel my mojo coming back.

This week over dinner Chris and Jen mentioned that they've challenged themselves to 30 sit-ups a day for the thirty days of September.  My abs and core have been okay since I had James, but I've only been doing mild, sporadic exercises to keep them alive - nothing serious or dedicated.  So I decided to join them and start my own thirty day challenge.  Charles declined to join us, citing his bad back.

Day one went really well.  I had to do ten at a time with a few minutes rest in between but it was good.  Charles helped me along - standing on my feet for me and giving helpful encouragement*.  I got to the end of my thirty and he demanded five more.  What?  Don't think, just do it!  Um...okay...  I was tired, but I did them.  No explanation for why.  Oh well. 35 it is, a cracking start.

The following day my abs were a bit twingy but not really sore.  I did thirty again while Charles again stood on my toes and barked at me.  Again he demanded five more.  It was much harder this time.  Still no explanation for the five extra.

And then I woke this morning - day 3.  Serious pain and I know exactly which muscles I've been using.  I tried to beg off on doing my 30 but Charles implied that I'd be a loser if I didn't, told me it was all in my head and then squished my toes because I took too long trying to psyche myself into it.

I growled the whole time I did it, feeling like I couldn't do the next one.  When I made it to thirty I nearly cried and I told him no way would I do any extra.
"Sure you will," he grinned evilly, "Come on, five more.  Go!  Now!"

Sometimes I really hate that man.

*  Barking orders.