"What did you do?" you may rightly ask. I DID 10 BLOODY CHIN UPS, ALL IN A ROW!!!!! WOOT WOOT WOOT WOOT!!!!!!!
And I discovered something about myself that I've always suspected. I am prone to having a touch of tourettes when attempting to conquer a high intensity challenge. For those non-familiar with such a syndrome, it leads me, beyond my control, to suffer a short but sharp outburst of anti-social language at the completion of something intense. In all honesty, giving in to the pressure to swear feels really good. Like a cigarette used to taste when having my first cold glass of wine on a Friday afternoon. I realise that it's particularly un-ladylike but heck schmeck, I've always been honest and today shall be no exception.
My suspicions were first aroused to this in 1998, when I sat my first police fitness test in New Zealand. The physical test comprised of a 2.4km run, to be completed in 11.15m (10.15m for the guys - regardless of age), followed by 20 continuous pressups, a vertical leap, a grip test and a couple of others that I can't remember. Success in these exercises meant you had a half hour break before completing a fairly gruelling obstacle course which included; pushing a trailer, running with a tyre assembly, jumping (god knows why!!) through a window, scaling a 1.8m flat wall, sprinting, some silly slalem cones, pulling a ruddy heavy 'body' (stuffed body-sized bag), and manouvering over a 10ft hurricane wire fence.
To back up the truck a little, once-upon-a-time inn 1998, I was at a rockin good wedding party, and I was a little...shall we say...under the weather. I weighed ..... too much, drank..... too much, smoked... too much and didn't really have my sights set on anything much at all. In short, I threw myself at pretty much nothing and achieved it beautifully each and every day.
So, at this party I met one of the police bosses for that district and he dared, and then double-dared, me to try out for the Police. Now, I couldn't actually even see straight at the time but, between drags on the ciggie, I tried really hard to focus on what he was saying, and somewhere along the way, my eyes changed colour (something they do when I get perturbed) and I tried to figure out whether he was serious or seriously taking the piss out of me. Because, seriously, I didn't look the least bit like cop-material! Especially around the diff!!
But somehow that comment wouldn't leave me alone, and later that night when I devoured a hot cheese and onion toasted sandwich, I was still thinking about his words. The following Monday I, very self-consciously, phoned police recruiting and got the info I needed. They didn't really go into any other detail than what the physical test consisted of. Excited??? NOT!!! I'd never run before in my life and never saw the need to jump through windows, push trailers or scale walls!!
So I had another fag and thought it all through. Never one to admit defeat I wandered along to the local gym and spoke with a personal trainer. I still vividly remember him. Masoud Sadari. He was middle eastern and looked a lot like Borat. He reckoned, with the cockiness that only a PT can muster, that he could get me over the line, not a worry at all. I reckoned the $35 per session would be well earned by him.
From there I started seeing my obssessive side poking it's head out. I had a date for the test worked out and about.....ooooo......8 weeks to get my butt moving!! (I don't like long term goals - much prefer the quick fix!!). So I started planning my life around this new training regime. And I have to say - it hurt like hell!!! That little trainer (he was about 5ft nothing) would actually lie down in the middle of the grass 400mt oval and have the audacity to loudly yawn if he thought I was going a little slow!!! I would literally seeth with fury at him and imagine building enough upper body strength to knock his little head in! I think the passion I had to hurt him really helped me with my training actually. So once a week he would have me run that bloody track six times around to check on my time. The first time it was about 23 minutes and I felt shattered. Drastic action had to be taken.
So I started racing up to the gym in my one hour lunch break. I'd have a sneaky smoke in my car on the way there, set the treadmill as high as I could handle, shove in earplugs and listen to Oprah Winfrey while I smashed my legs as fast as they would go - which really wasn't fast at all!! I was completely happy if I managed to get the 2.4km done in under 23m.
I then started to run to and from work. I remember putting my clothes and lunch in a backpack and running while listening to Alanis Morissette very loudly. On the first day I got so focused that I didn't notice the top of my bag had rubbed a fairly good sized hole out of my skin at the base of my neck so I modified the bag with a towel. There was no way it was going to stop me running.
Slowly, slowly my time for the 2.4km started decreasing and, the week before my test, I managed to push out 11.18min. And here's where my 'condition' emerged. I finished the run and checked out my watch and saw that I had come in under 11.30m, which to me was like winning gold at the Olympics!! I then let rip with some very loud, very choice words which even had my trainer blushing. But I was on a high and nothing was going to stop me....so I celebrated with a Benson & Hedges Gold!!!!
One week later, it was a bit cold, a bit windy and I lined up with about 8 guys, ready to sit this test that had kept me up with diarrhea nerves all night!! I was a mental and physical wreck and felt like I could cry at any point. When the PT copper blew his whistle, all of the fellas ran off like they were in a bloody 100m sprint race! I was absolutely devestated. I was literally left plodding along on my own and, compared to them, I felt like I was almost walking. I didn't live far away and seriously contemplated running home and sneaking back later to get my bag. But I didn't. I kept plodding around that road with a really heavy heart, thinking I'd blown it. The two PTI's were following us in a car and they kept leaning out the window and smiling nicely, mouthing sweet little motivating words. But I could see what they were thinking, "haha - check out this one - my Grandma could get past her in a zimmerframe. She's shithouse!!". Yep, I just know they were thinking that!!
Over the next 11 odd minutes I couldn't shake the feeling of doom and felt even more stupid when the guys had finished their run and they kindly ran back to do the last few hundred metres with me. At that time in my life I didn't really embrace the whole 'team spirit' thing and just thought they were doing it to show off. So I put my head down and sprinted as fast as I could for the last 50mt and almost fell over the line. I can remember the tears stinging my eyes and thinking how stupid I looked. As if they wanted a sookie-la-la in their force anyhow!
And then the PTI simply said, "Edwards - 11m13s, well done. Inside for the pressups". Are you *****n serious????? I did it????? I actually did it???? WOOO HOOOOOO - I DID DO IT!!!! I BLOODY DID IT!!! ............................ (insert a whole lot of other similar phrases that I don't really want to repeat but sufficient to say that my tourettes was alive and well that day).
And the rest is pretty much history. I completed the next few tests without too much of a worry and went on to blitz (haha- still a bullshitter - I 'finished' I didn't 'blitz') the obstacle course. Funny the things you remember - I went home and had a magnum icecream to celebrate!! I was on a cloud even higher than cloud 9!
A couple of months later I packed my bags and flew to windy Wellington in September 1998 where I began a six month stint at the Royal New Zealand Police College.
Do you know that I still get goosebumps when I remember the feeling of conquering what felt like a Mt Everest sized challenge? And I know that I know that I know that most of the winning is completed inside your head! There were so many - SOOO MANY!!! - days that I did not want to do that lunchtime run! I would have much rather had a leisurely coffee, sandwich and gossip with my colleagues. Hells bells, it even limited my cigarette time!! It made me conscious of my alcohol consumption and it really upset my fast food Saturdays!
But I will never - NEVER NEVER NEVER - forget how it felt to stand in the NZ Police Academy and be sworn in as a Constable. It was one of the proudest days of my life and it led me to a career that I absolutely loved. And the best part about it was it took me a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get there so I didn't take it for granted - ever! No dirty old cigarette, toasted sandwich or even cold stubbie of beer will ever taste as good as the success of getting where I wanted to go.
So here I am, a 'few' years later and I'm facing yet another huge challenge. Is it like Mt Everest? Bloody oath it is!! I now have a few more years under my belt, three children, a shift working husband, no family support close by, a fantastic but very busy job, a small business and most nights are full with bootcamps and challenger sessions. On top of this I train six weight sessions and three-four cardio sessions per week. Just to add the icing on the cake, I'm choosing not to eat what most of the world eats so have to make sure I constantly have access to my food choices.
Do I love it? HELL YES!!!!! I'm on a wild ride at the moment and each week I'm seeing little successes. I'm dogged in my approach and will not, can not give up until I get to my goal!! Nothing will stop me and I've proved that you can keep up this regime at home, away on holiday, with visitors staying, on your own......it just takes some fiddling to keep the balance right and some real, tangible (not lip service) committment to the bigger goal.
Are there any side effects? Oh gosh yes!!!! Some days I'm tired - so bloody tired that I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. And I'm still a bit of a sookie lala so I do have a few good cries now and again. I actually think it's quite soothing even though it still freaks Rob out a little.....after 13 years of seeing me cry for just about any reason at all. And some days I feel an awful lot of guilt about how self-centered it can be. But, in all reality, that guilt is just something that is there - whether I was doing this or not, I'd feel it for one reason or another so I don't dwell on it.
All of this big long story was to illustrate just how wonderful I felt when I got to my mini-goal of completing 10 full chinups this week. After which I fell on the floor and let my tourettes take over. I then did five more sets but could only manage 5 at each set.
The chinups have made amazing changes to my biceps and I fully recommend them as an addition to boring old curls. The increase in muscle has been brilliant.
Do I want to get to 15 chinups? Not sure. Not sure the gym members could cope with my language if I managed that. But I've got a few other little goals to hit and one is to squat 100kgs. I'm at 77.5kg so a way to go but, bit by bit, I'll get there.
Just for tonight, my mini goal is to get to bed before 10.30pm and I'm not sure I can achieve it but my first step is to get off this computer.........
But I just want to say this also - almost as good as achieving my own goals is seeing and being a part of others reaching theirs. And that's what makes my current role as a trainer so brilliant. I thrive on watching people achieve. I get frustrated when they don't, and I want to lend them a little of my committment. I want them to feel how it feels to get to where they want to be. I am so certain that if they felt the success, they would never give up again!!
So that's what drives me each and every day to keep going. I just love it!!
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