Yep. I said it. And now I’m sorry.
Yesterday I said I was looking forward to my next Plyometrics workout. As it turns out, my upper body was just bitter about having to work so hard. It said things it didn’t mean. We all do from time to time. It only hopes that my lower body will forgive it eventually. After this morning’s plyo workout, it might be years before my upper & lower body speak to each other.
I’m finding that knowing what is coming in these workouts is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because I don’t have to stand there and watch the first several reps to see how to do them, but it’s a curse because I don’t have the excuse of needing to stand there for a few reps to see how to do them. So now it’s up to me to just jump in and start destroying the very appendages I depend on for mobility. I still question my sanity.
At the start of every routine, Tony gives his “Tip of the Day”. For Plyo, the tip of the day is “Think like a cat”. Now I understand his reasoning—mainly because he explains himself right after giving this tip. He wants us to focus on landing softly, like a cat. I get the reference, but there’s just one hitch in this giddyup—I made a mistake and started thinking like MY cat.
My cat makes Garfield look motivated. Content to merely take up space, he generally looks at any sort of physical activity as an affront. I couldn’t figure out how this was going to help me, but hey—Tony is a professional. Who am I to doubt him? So for the rest of the routine, I thought about things like my cat would. My internal dialogue took on an uppity British accent. ( It’s a little known fact, but contrary to what you see in the movies and cartoons, all male cats have internal voices that sound like Anthony Hopkins and all female cats sound like Julie Andrews. Trust me, I used to work for a veterinarian.)
Tony: “Welcome to Plyometrics—the MOTHER of all P90X workouts!”
Me: “My good man…my mother abandoned me when I was 6 weeks old. I was re-homed to live with these humans. If you’re telling me that this workout will leave me feeling scared and hollow inside, I do believe I’ll pass.”
Tony: “We’re all wearing heart rate monitors. I highly recommend one.”
Me: “Anthony, if my heart beats fast enough that monitoring it is prudent, then something has gone terribly amiss. I will defer.”
Tony: (in reference to the upcoming exercise) “We’re going to do this for 30 seconds. You can do ANYTHING for 30 seconds!”
Me: “Oh bugger. Ol’ Chap, if I blink more than twice in 30 seconds, I consider myself overworked. But you go right ahead. Spit, spot.”
I think you get the point. Thinking like a cat did NOT help me one bit. Actually, I started thinking like a dog, and made it through just fine. Like my dog chasing a ball, if it gets thrown, it gets chased. If Tony said there was another exercise to do, it got done. I just did what he asked me to…with a stupid look on my face. My legs are completely shot, but at least I did it.
So apparently his tip of the day wasn’t the best idea for me. Like any workout program, you have to find what works for you and do it–even if it involves thinking like a dog. Although I should point out, drinking from the toilet on your water break ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.