Uuuuuugggghhhhhhh. MMmmmmmuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh. Sssssssssssssssshhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuu.
I don't cross train. I see it on the schedule when I'm training for events, but I just assume the X means "do nothing" on those days. And R means "rest a lot". But Stephan started training for the Tough Mudder in September. I downloaded a two page training workout and posted it in the basement. He headed down there one afternoon and I figured I'd be supportive and hold the stopwatch for him. Each exercise is done for only one or two minutes.
I also enjoyed reading ahead and being able to demonstrate the moves for a few seconds so he wouldn't have to figure things out on his own. After the first 10 minutes I started chiming in with encouragement like, "Why are you breathing so hard?" and, "You're almost done. You should pick up the pace." If he could have spoken I think he would have told me to get off the couch and start spider-web climbing myself. But I was in comfy clothes. I didn't want to sweat in them.
So I took up the challenge myself yesterday, albeit, with a custom playlist of 1 and 2 minute songs spaced perfectly so I would know when to change exercises. And guys, I can't move. First of all, I barely survived the workout. It seemed insane that 60 seconds could hurt so badly. But holding a 60 second squat? Fire. Two straight minutes of shoulders-up-only jumping jacks? Puke-inducing. My calves are so tender right now, sitting in a chair is causing cramps. Don't get me wrong. I love it (see previous entries about mental illness). I just didn't expect something as simple as a 45 minute interval workout to so totally kick my ass.
Well played, exercise. Well played.