A New Evil

No, I am not talking about spinning. I have now done two spin classes and while they are tough, they are bearable. No, I am talking about a brand new evil. One I had no knowledge of until this Tuesday. 

Normally Tuesday is my run club day. A nice gentle 4K run around my town with some like-minded ladies. I look forward to my Tuesday runs. This Tuesday however was miserably wet and cold and resulted in the class being cancelled. The lady who runs the club suggested that those who still wanted a workout should come along to the cryptically named "team training" class that evening. I asked her what this class involved and she told me it was a fun class with a bit of spinning and something she called "circuit training". Some of you may already see where this is going. I, however, had never heard of circuit training and was told it was "just a bit of step" and that I would manage fine.

HA. (I would laugh harder but my abs still hurt.)

Those 45 minutes were the longest, most painful, movement-packed I think I have ever lived through. There were weights (the really heavy green ones, not the pretty pink light ones I use during the "tone" part of spinning), sit ups, press ups, planks and about a zillion squats. Add to that the sprinting on the bicycles and the jogging/bunny hopping on and off a step and I honestly didn't know which way was up. Oh and we did some suicide runs as well at the end, you know, cause we had loads of extra energy left over. 

I don't think I have ever sweat so much in my life (ladylike, I know). I woke up the next day and every single muscle (every. single. one.) was on fire. Muscles I haven't felt in years were suddenly screaming at me and I wasn't even moving, I was just sat (collapsed in a heap) helplessly on the sofa. I'm still hobbling about today. Two whole days later and I'm still sore!

I'll tell you one thing, that is the last time I ever get lured into a class on the promise of it being fun and easy. The next person to come near me with the words "circuit training" will get a big punch on the nose. Or at least they will once I can actually lift my arms up past my waist again!

Spinning

Spinning is EVIL. Seriously. My first "Beginner Spin and Tone" class was on Thursday and everything still aches. Oh, and those really uncomfy looking bicycle seats? Yeah. they're really uncomfy. 

Moaning and sulking aside, I really enjoyed it. It was really tough and I struggled much more than I thought I would but it was satisfying to get to the end of the class and still be able to breathe and talk. We started out with the "spin" bit which involved sprinting, hills and cycling with one leg at a time (yay...not). Then we moved on to the "tone" bit which involved getting some little pink baby weights (cause I am weak and couldn't face the slightly heavier purple ones) and doing some bicep curls and some tricep something-elses. Oh and this other one which made my arms and my abs hurt. I say abs, I mean my non-defined stomach area that someday very far away may develop something remotely resembling abs. 

All in all I wouldn't call it a pleasant experience but I felt good after (mentally, physically not so much) and it was good to see everyone else panting and puffing too. Plus, one of the girls from my Tuesday run club was also there so I have someone to sit next to during class and moan to after. Other than all of you of course. The four of you that actually read my blog that is. (Hi mum and dad!).

Hurty feet indeed.

When I named this blog "My Feet Hurt!" I did it half jokingly. I was expecting my feet to be a tad sore from all that pavement pounding. I even expected a minor injury, perhaps from putting my foot down funny or slipping on some gravel, all of which I am told are the common perils of running. So when my first foot injury arose on Friday you'd think I'd have been celebrating. I would now be able to proudly show off my battle scars, proof of my dedication to my chosen exercise regime. Not so. I didn't hurt my foot out running. How, you ask, did I injure myself? A slip? A fall? No, no, no. 

My shoe bit me. 

Yes you read that right. Friday night I made my way to the tube station to go to my fiancé's work party, and my shoe bit me. My sensible, flat shoes that I had worn specifically with the aim of preventing foot injury. The sensible shoes I was planning on later swapping for the highly impractical 5 inch heels. My sensible shoes have a funny sense of irony that's all I'm going to say. In all honesty I had noticed a slight pinching sensation on my (5 minute) walk to the station, but I figured I must have just got something stuck in the shoe. Picture my shocked, disbelieving face when I pull the offending shoe off at the station to find my heel completely red with blood. Blood! My sensible shoes made my foot bleed! This is the type of injury I would expect had I decided to run a marathon in my aforementioned 5 inch heels! Or just taken part in an Army-style march across the Brecon Beacons. In the rain. 

My lady readers might understand this sentiment more than my male ones, but you place your trust in your sensible shoes and mine betrayed me. Traitors. 

Anyway, for those of you who like seeing this kind of thing, I have thoughtfully included a photo of my heel. It has healed over somewhat now and is no longer actively bleeding (yay) but still hurts to the point where conventional shoes (ie: anything that's not a welly or a flip flop) are agony to wear. 

Oh, and for those of you (probably not) wondering what happened to my night out? Well I went to the work party anyway, in my pretty knee-length cocktail dress with my handsome dinner-suited-up fiancé. And what did I put on my feet? 

Flip flops. I wore flip flops. 

PS: special shout out to my fiancé who left work early to go on a mid-winter mission to find and buy me said flip flops.