Working It Out #7

My wife and I, on Monday's night, work out in a group at our church. It's an offshoot of a popular subculture of fitness focused on intense, short workouts that are designed NOT for you to plod along, but to burn you out so you can get on with your frosting.

Tonight, the circuit was this:

1. Row 500M on the rowing machine
2. Jump Rope and do "Double-Unders," where you jump & get the rope around twice
3. KettleBell swings (a kettlebell is a cannonball with a C-shaped handle on top, weights of anywhere from 12 to 44lbs)
4. Thrusters (Holding a 45-lb barbell, squat down, stand up, push the bar up)
5. Box-jumps
6. Sit-ups

The time of each station depended on how fast the person rowing could get to 500m. You start at the station when they start rowing. If they get there in 3min, you do 3min of the station. If it takes them, oh, 4min30sec, you curse their existence and scream for Gatorade Cool-Icing Flavor, now with peanuts.

My scores were, in order that I went
Kettlebell swings = 62
Thrusters = 49
Box Jumps = 42
Sit-ups = 56
Row = 2:02
Jump = 3 doubles, 109 jumps total
Calories = A butt-ton

These scores are a bit elevated, mind you.
There were 2 groups, and my group had 3 kids in it.
Kids have a lot of energy. Kids have a lot of pep. Kids have a lot of gas. Kids do NOT have a lot of muscle tone or strength or attention span. When a 12 year old "late bloomer" stops because he's tired on the rower, and his younger brother is 6 feet away farting through sit-ups, and you're just cresting on a 44lb kettlebell swing (#35 of 52), you kind of lose your faith in AMerica's youth. It is replaced by the burning between your shoulderblades that starts in yer butt's crack.

I swear by "Turbulence Training," btw. It's like this kind of thing, but you can do it on a smaller scale, minus the kid-toots. See that link over and up on the right that starts with "CLICK HERE"? Click there, learn more. That thing rules.

I will help anybody get into that routine at any time. I love it. It's upped my cardio and strength like crazy.

More on that when my fingers stop Charlie-horsing.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad