It does feel a bit posh having a personal trainer, but that is what I have at the moment in the form of Martin Lacey from the Clonea Strand Hotel Leisure Centre. After railroading me into doing the race on May 21st I think the organisers of the Waterford Adventure Race quickly realised that signing me up was the least of their tasks. Getting me to the finish line of a 14km run, 42km bike ride and a 6.4km kayak down the Blackwater river without my heart exploding or my legs collapsing under me would take a bit of divine intervention. As God's diary is a bit full at the moment, help from closer to this realm is being called upon.
Towards the end of my second session with Martin I asked him if he was ex army. If you've met Martin you'll appreciate that this is not an unreasonable question. It's not that he barks orders or sings silly rhyming songs while running you up and down the sand dunes. He doesn't. But, it's just not in his nature to let you away with anything either. My 13 push ups in a minute (chest touching the floor) was met with a comment about how there was "plenty room for improvement there anyway". Any incomplete leg curls, or hip thrusts or whatever the movements on those scary looking machines are called, were repeated until done correctly. And this is exactly the sort of attitude I need, because this race ain't going to run itself and without a lot of help it is questionable as to whether I will run it either. Martin has designed a programme to improve my endurance, and build up my non existent upper body strength. Hey, there's not much physical labour in presenting a radio programme.
This weeks training consisted of a couple of five km runs around Abbeyside and out to Barnawee, back in along the New Line and home. I was with Martin twice. After the first session I hurt like a Guantanamo detainee after a particularly gruelling interrogation. After the second session I felt fine. That in itself is progress I guess. I also went out for a ride on the bike on Sunday just gone. But a combination of the heavy hand of our dinner host the previous night and an unfortunate series of punctures meant the intended 50km ended up being closer to 35km. But at least I managed to secure a kayak for the event. One of my fellow cyclists manages Union Chandlery in Cork. He has kindly offered to set me up with a kayak for a few weeks before the event and on the day itself. It's good to talk.
My personal trainer (yes, I love saying that) Martin assures me that he'll have me ready to race by May 21st. I admire the man's optimism, and who am I to disagree with him. If I did it would be another 13 press ups and I don't think these biceps are ready for another session just yet.
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