mudder training day three

Okay, so I got up at 6 AM and my legs were stiff as Oak trunks.  Having ran up that hill a pitiful three times on training-day number two, I can really see this Tough Mudder training isn’t for those with a sedate lifestyle.

Suffering, I head for my weight-room.  Fifty-eight and untrained, I take 100 pounds off of my son, Justin’s bar.  Enthusiastically, I attack it, hefting its eighty pounds (whimp, I know) and start with some combination curls and dead presses.   …eight, niiiine, urrrrrg ten!  Wow!  I check my heart monitor and it reads 136.

Damn!   

My physician told me not to exceed 130 at my age and ten simple (though draining) repetitions pushed me to the limit.  But that’s good.  Close to my limit keeps me in the safe zone!

Next up…pushups.  Eons ago, when I was in the Army, I did fifty-plus daily with my feet high up on a weight bench and my chest on the floor. “I’m cool,” I think, “I’ll try that.”   Onnnnnne.  Oh, my God, this is HARD! Two...I can’t believe I used to do fifty!  Three’s pure torture and four is impossible even with Mudder determination!  Check heart…143.  Holy %$#&! 

Catch breath….

Finally, on to herculean effort number three.  Dumbbells…four 5 pounders, four 2 ½’s and the bar.  Thirty five pounds on each.  May as well start big!  I bend over and put my left hand on the floor and clutch the dumbbell with my right.  Lift up to shoulder, down, repeat….nine, ten.  Eh.  Switch arms.  Nine.  Ten.  Take heart rate.  126.  Awesome!  Tough Mudder here I come!    

Tough mudder inspiration. Day 1

Okay, so I'm wicked inspired by my son finishing tough mudder New England 2 on Saturday, July 14th at Mt. Snow, VT.  Never before has anything he's done made me as proud a dad as I am at this moment.  What do I do now?  I can watch as a spectator again.  I can let him take himself next year and sit home drinking Shock Top.  I can eat more mashed potato's and get fatter.  I can watch Judge Judy.  Oh, hey...I just got a brilliant idea!  Yeah, wow, this is really awesome.  I'll enter with him next year!  But wait...I'm a good 20 pounds overweight.  I wear glasses.  My left shoulder is plagued with arthritis.  Most of all, I'm a burnt out hippie merely existing at age 57.  Why bother?  I'll tell you why.  Let's all say, "midlife crisis."  I'm a po folk, so I don't have the cash for a Ferrari.  I have a awesome fiance my age, so I guess a hot 25 year old is out (besides, I'm no Brad Pitt so I'd never have a chance anyway).  I can't even afford a health club membership.  So, with a garage full of weights my son uses for his training, looks like it's Tough Mudder for this old bastard. 

So I go out to the garage and see that Justin has roughly 6.2 million pieces of broken glass on the floor.  Weird, I think, but still proud.  Very.  Nuff said.  I sweep and rearrange the layout and start by taking 80 pounds off of the bar (did I say I'm a lightweight?).  I try a few combined reps of curling then right into a dead lift.  Ten nonstop and I'm breathing like a woman in labor.  Yeah, yeah, you body builders out there are probably shouting, "Whimp, you're not a mudder!"  Hopefully I'll prove wrong all you naysayers.  I worked out for an hour total, allowing lengthy pauses to catch my breath and let my heart slow.  My doctor said that at my age it shouldn't exceed 130. 

Will this ever happen?  Right now I'm really psyched so I'm looking forward to day two.