It is with a very heavy heart that I write today’s blog……..as well as heavy arms, legs, trunk and eye lids.
Yeap, you have guessed it, I have been training again with my small, testosterone filled man.
I was greeted this morning not by ‘Hi Mum, did you sleep well?’, but ‘when are we going to the gym Mum?’
So, after sorting out breakfast and all the diff naff and triv that goes with life off we went. However, today was different as Friday is the first day of the weekend here and so we were joined by himself and a very reluctant strawberry hand grenade.
So, the small man and I started off as usual on the treadmill. There was me and my steady pace, and then there was the mini Mo Farah by the side of me. Yeap, legs like pistons, arms pumping and lips blowing he was going for it.
Well, I was not having that, so up went my speed. The challenge today was the first to 1 mile and I was not going to be beaten by an 8 year old. No way, this was getting personal and I knew that if he got to a mile first I would never hear the last of it. The claws came out.
So, on seeing my speed go up I don’t think I need to say what he did and soon we were piling through the first mile.
I am delighted to say that I held the attack off valiantly and managed to hit 1 mile first – but only just I have to admit.
Next up were sprints over 100 metres – after this I can officially say that the boy can sprint! Blimey. I am honestly not sure who each one, but they were all close run things.
So, what next. Steppers. Now I did have the upper hand here and reached a mile first but I was not waiting long before the small man hit a mile.
Now, up to today I have managed to convince the small man that treadmill and stepper was enough, but not today. The small man is getting fitter and was keen to sample other kit in the gym.
So, to the rowing machine. After 2 minutes of tuition he was off, with a great technique. I challenged him to 500m which he gleefully accepted and before I knew it he was there. There was a grim determination on his face and nothing was going to stop him.
At this point the realisation really hit home that the small man is getting fit and I need to keep up – despite the thirty odd year age difference. The truth of the matter is just a few weeks ago I could whop him at most things sporty, (but his superior knowledge of all things scientific left me feeling like a numpty). But now after his half-term at the hand grenade’s sport mad school, running in the Cumbrian hills and now demanding to go to the gym every morning and swimming every afternoon he is turning into Mr Sports Mad Eight Year Old.
So, with this revelation in mind I deposited the small man with the larger man and took again to the treadmill as part of my master plan for maintaining any dominance in sporting prowess.
I am however going to have to be on the ball to keep up, stand by for more sporting challenges to not only raise money for Tommy’s but also to keep me physically one step in front of my son!
So this afternoon saw us at the indoor pool and once again I was pushed – not a bad thing but his competitive nature was made worse by the presence of his sister. The gym is not really her thing and she only begrudgingly came along this morning through a fear of missing something. However, she can swim and swims rather well and rather quickly.
So, not only did I have to cope with Mr Sports Mad Eight Year Old, I also had to contend with the fish like skills and capabilities of the strawberry blond hand grenade. Yeap, no sooner does she hit the water than she appears at the other end, like a dolphin wearing a strawberry blond wig and with attitude.
Now, while the small man has also made considerable progress with his swimming and now gives me a good run for my money with front crawl, (backstroke and breast stroke he whoops me convincingly and lets not even start to talk about the elephant in the room – butterfly), I can pretty much keep the upper hand, for now. However, I have had to accept defeat with his sister who pretty much wipes the floor with us all.
Anyway, after my training swim this afternoon I was greeted by races with the gruesome twosome, just to add to my aching muscles from my grilling at the gym this morning.
Needless to say the hand grenade took most of the accolades but the small man gave me a run for my money.
I can now officially say that I am pooped, tired, weary, prostrate, bushed, spent……..you get the picture.
Just to add insult to injury the small man has announced he wants to go to the gym tomorrow morning…..
So, as I sit here pondering tomorrow morning’s gym session and inevitable afternoon swim, I look up to see himself chatting to Tommo. Yeap, the legend that is Tommo has come round and I am listening to endless ramblings about planned sporting challenges, previous sporting accomplishments, (with all the associated exaggeration), tales of daring woo from the past and sitting on the top of mountains naked drinking whisky.
Yeap, you read that right, they are discussing the pros and cons of drinking whisky stark butt naked on top of a mountain.
If you are new to the blog and unfamiliar with the legend that is Tommo, then please refer to these pages for an explanation – then, hopefully, it will all make complete sense…..or maybe not….Tommo Intro & Tommy’s Epic 5 Marathon Challenge.
Yeap Tommo is a regular feature in our lives and as well as having very random conversations he is also part of the team which so far has raised over £17,000 for Tommy’s.
He is also hero-worshipped by our small man. The strawberry blond hand grenade is at ‘that’ stage in her life when she worships nobody but the small man more than makes up for that gap with complete adoration.
So far Tommo has played several games of Mario on the Wii, had a wrestling match, been roped into taking the small man training, (mainly to give my aching limbs a rest), and a cookie eating competition.
I hasten to add that the small man was not present for the conversation about drinking whisky butt naked on top of a mountain – good job really as being the young man that he is I am sure that he would be there as well.
Right, best I go and keep all the men’s feet on the floor and preferably not up a mountain……
Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s