Push Ups

I'm dedicating today's song to my new trainer, Chuck. 

He likes it when I curse at him, basically because he knows that I'm working hard. 

Tonight, after a three-minute warm on the skier (because both of the rowing machines are broken) and some loosening up, it was on for young and old. 

First up, TRX rows. The look like this. 

"Move your feet forward," he chimes. 

"But I'll be nearly horizontal!"

"That's what I want you to do. Move 'em and give me twelve."

"Sadist!" I moved my feet forward, doing the required 12 rows from an angle that felt like I was horizontal. I came out of this with aching arms.

"Good girl," he praised. "Was that medium or hard?"

"Hard."

"Excellent. You know that angle now. Keep at it."

We went on. Nasty things. Weighted squats. Lunges. Then push ups.

Chuck is big on technique. He shouts at you.

"Hit the floor with your chest. Don't jump your pushes. Push yourself off," he encouraged.

"Grrr," was my response. Though I do push ups from my knees, my angles are such that he's going to start making me do them on my toes. 

"Keep it up, you can do this."

"You're really not very nice,"

"But you love me!" he chuckled.

"I can't love you, you're an Essendon supporter."

"And what's wrong with them?"

"Everything. Besides, you're mean!"

"And you're very strong and you said you needed to be challenged."

I don't have any recourse to that. 

"Still doesn't mean I like you. Flattery will get you nowhere."

He giggled at that. Then showed me a picture of his dog, because that's what we do. And the session is over. 

I'm going to feel my shoulders and back tomorrow. 

And Joan Armatrading is a seriously underrated 80's performer. 

Today's song: