Happy Valentine's day to you.
14th innit? You're all fighting your way free from roses and chocolates and cards and teddy bears clutching sateen hearts. I know, I know, of course you are.
And how am I going to romantify my Satdee? Why I'm going into town with the paramour to buy football boots. Ah yes, nothing signifies deep and abiding love more than shopping for football boots, why it's enough make a gal weak at the knees.
I've been dithering about this year on what challenge to set myself. I know I can run a marathon, I'm in the process of learning another lanuage. Oui, une autre langue, la langue de l'amour. My accent is pure Pepe le Pew, my hands do most of the talking for me. Bon, it is how it should be, just like my street Spanish-everything in the present tense, much snorting and looking offended. (The Catalans treat me as one of their own such is my gruff haughty delivery in Spanish, yes they hates it and love to hear it mangled. Bon dia!)
But in terms of goals, well I needz them. I am too old and too lazy not to need competition. Fortunately I am quite happy to compete against myself in my own head. Ah yes, a gift no doubt inherited from The Lilac One. Once we decide something, it is so. It's like clapping our hand and wriggling our noses at it.
So this year I have decided to devote myself- as I said to Finn- to the art of getting really bloody strong, and running slightly faster, possibly by cursing in French too.
To wit.
I FatMammyCat, gym goer and high heel wearer, do somewhat solemnly swear to attempt to master the following over the course of this year. 2009.
A dead lift at 100k ( that's kilos none of your sissy pounds malarky)
A bench press at 50 k
To squat 70k
To Push Press 40k
To Military press 30k
to perform one set of over head squats carrying 30k with falling over backward or forward.
To perform 10 ( count 'em) Dead hang pull ups, no kipping, no swinging of any sort.
To row 5k in 20 mins.
To run 10k in 50 minutes.
And that is this year's goal. Probably does not look like much, but it is plenty for me to be getting on with. For example, I currently cannot do ONE dead hang pull up. Not even one. Neither can I run 5k in under 25 minutes, let alone 10 in 50. I came in at 27:20 the other day and thought I was going to vomit getting off the blasted treadmill. No really. But I'll give it a bash. I can row 1k in 4:20, so that needs ample work too. The rest is pure graft and good form. I have good form-I am loath to get any kind of injury and you can minimise that by getting form right. The only one I'm really looking forward to is hitting the 100k on the deadlift. I can already lift 82.5k see, so 100k doesn't really REALLY seem that daunting.I don't need these hands, right?
Hurrah for challenges! It makes getting dressed and leaving your desk more entertaining.
Bring on the DOMS!
And how am I going to romantify my Satdee? Why I'm going into town with the paramour to buy football boots. Ah yes, nothing signifies deep and abiding love more than shopping for football boots, why it's enough make a gal weak at the knees.
I've been dithering about this year on what challenge to set myself. I know I can run a marathon, I'm in the process of learning another lanuage. Oui, une autre langue, la langue de l'amour. My accent is pure Pepe le Pew, my hands do most of the talking for me. Bon, it is how it should be, just like my street Spanish-everything in the present tense, much snorting and looking offended. (The Catalans treat me as one of their own such is my gruff haughty delivery in Spanish, yes they hates it and love to hear it mangled. Bon dia!)
But in terms of goals, well I needz them. I am too old and too lazy not to need competition. Fortunately I am quite happy to compete against myself in my own head. Ah yes, a gift no doubt inherited from The Lilac One. Once we decide something, it is so. It's like clapping our hand and wriggling our noses at it.
So this year I have decided to devote myself- as I said to Finn- to the art of getting really bloody strong, and running slightly faster, possibly by cursing in French too.
To wit.
I FatMammyCat, gym goer and high heel wearer, do somewhat solemnly swear to attempt to master the following over the course of this year. 2009.
A dead lift at 100k ( that's kilos none of your sissy pounds malarky)
A bench press at 50 k
To squat 70k
To Push Press 40k
To Military press 30k
to perform one set of over head squats carrying 30k with falling over backward or forward.
To perform 10 ( count 'em) Dead hang pull ups, no kipping, no swinging of any sort.
To row 5k in 20 mins.
To run 10k in 50 minutes.
And that is this year's goal. Probably does not look like much, but it is plenty for me to be getting on with. For example, I currently cannot do ONE dead hang pull up. Not even one. Neither can I run 5k in under 25 minutes, let alone 10 in 50. I came in at 27:20 the other day and thought I was going to vomit getting off the blasted treadmill. No really. But I'll give it a bash. I can row 1k in 4:20, so that needs ample work too. The rest is pure graft and good form. I have good form-I am loath to get any kind of injury and you can minimise that by getting form right. The only one I'm really looking forward to is hitting the 100k on the deadlift. I can already lift 82.5k see, so 100k doesn't really REALLY seem that daunting.I don't need these hands, right?
Hurrah for challenges! It makes getting dressed and leaving your desk more entertaining.
Bring on the DOMS!
Labels: Fatcats are competitive.
posted by fatmammycat at 10:15 am
11 comments
