If you’ve ever
been there you know what I’m talking about. In a gym hall a dark night, during
pre-season, time just doesn’t exist. All there is, is a motivational soundtrack
blaring from crappy speakers, squeaks from shoes touching the rubber floor and
someone shouting: go! Rest! Go! in
infinity.
It didn’t
start that focused. The coach was missing and so were our rugby balls. We were
debating who was gonna call and inquire of their whereabouts. I had JUST gotten used to the Scottish
coach’s accent! said Nurse Brunette. And
now I have to adjust my ears to something even worse. I’m not calling – I’ll
never know what the Irishman says. But someone else did and the first
indoor pre-season session could start.
Ninety
minutes later the Irishman was happy as us ladies lay panting on the floor,
sweaty and aching (wait, that sounds…a bit dirty. Oh well). Some of us
struggled to let go of the awkward feeling that comes with being back in their
high school gym. (My ACTUAL high school gym. Walls were impregnated with my
anxiety, pubertal hormones and bad memories.) Some of us were just happy to
have done the bleep test without dying embarrassingly early on. The Irishman
got the great idea to post the results on FB. Noone argued. Actually, we were
too tired to talk.
Afterwards,
the one part of my body that really gave me a hard time was my calves, after
one (!) session with the skipping rope. Somehow I feel that’s a sort of
failure.
---
24 hours later. Calves are fine. But my gluteus maximus are a pain in the arse. Literally.
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