Taff is sending me this.
It looks like torture, and that's not a bad thing. It's like those Insanity workouts.
I'm thinking I do want to be strong all over, and I was reading about Ironman Linsay Corbin, and she's very big on strength workouts, which take her total weekly train up to 34 hours a week or so (which includes the yoga she does on her day off). The thing is, I am bothered about what I look like, the shape, not just the fitness. I want to be slim, but I'd rather be slightly slower but be strong with it. Women need to do weight bearing exercise to protect against osteoporosis, as well as studies have shown it can also help prevent dementia.
I also want a decent stomach. It has been too ravaged by a large baby and stretchmarks for it to ever be good enough to show in public, but I could still get some rock hard abs and definition. And be able to bounce medicine balls off of it.
Did 40 mins of swimming as it was supposed to be an easy day, most of which were drills. I didn't feel tired by it at all, and did lots of side kicking.
And guess who's offered to help me with my car, and I've said yes? (I really can't be giving the garage any more money, they have Grinched my Christmas away already.)
Go on, guess.
Yep, that's right. (this bit is only relevant for anyone who knows me, apologies if you're thinking 'Eh?')
I'm not sure if this is going to happen or how it will pan out, but what I do know is I'm not going to shave my legs beforehand, as that's the best insurance policy ever. I am not Bridget Jones, nothing would happen if I was wearing big knickers. Or had hairy legs.
That is because it's not a sensible road to go back down. But he was the most fun bloke ever. No one has come close in the making me laugh stakes, and there's nothing wrong with being friends. Lots of time has passed, so should be OK.