I sent a text: “Have you ever done a ‘Skull Crusher’?”
On Saturday I had some personal training/mental therapy. Personal training is good for my soul. It injects some confidence and, oddly enough, makes me feel more pampered than a pedicure. (And, if you know me and my foot issues…well, I guess that’s not saying much.) I don’t get that very often… the feeling that, for one hour, you are somebody’s entire focus. Like I said, good for the soul.
“So, we are going to do some core work and then some skull crushers and upper body and then lower body.” I can’t help it. Skull crusher?
What do you think of when you hear ‘skull crusher’? I imagined a pressing a medicine ball in my hands like, well, crushing a skull. Come to find out that it is also a vernacular for something you might see on Skinemax (I’ll let your imagination run for a bit here.) (It didn’t take me long to imagine.)
Neither scenario was correct. Want to do a skull crusher? Great.
Step 1: get a spotter. There’s a reason it’s called a skull crusher.
Step 2: lay on your back on a bench. Put your arms straight up in the air, wrists flexed back a bit.
Step 3: have your spotter hand you a 35 pound barbell.
Step 4: practice your kegels so you don’t pee just a little.
Step 5: let gravity take the barbell TOWARD YOUR SKULL and press it up again. (This is to benefit your triceps)
Step 6: Repeat. Times 9.
So, as I’m doing this particular exercise I say to Molly No offense but I will probably never do this on my own. Her response? ” Oh, just use 25 pounds and you’ll be fine.”
Somebody wants my skull crushed.
Here we are at week 2 of Fat Camp. All 23 participants were in attendance tonight. The number was a paltry 14 on Thursday so I’m not quite sure what’s going on there but you can be sure that I will never be late to class or I’ll have to take a treadmill on the other side of the gym and that’s no good.
I almost didn’t go. I am full of the snot. Since right after Christmas, I’ve had the snot stuck in my face and, much like everything else on my body these days, it has gravitated south and is sitting squarely in my chest. It’s not a pretty cough. In fact it’s the cough that says “I should not be out in public”. Combine that with a skin rash I can’t identify through Google Images and I have made an appointment to see a real M.D. in the morning.
It’s hard to run with the snot. It makes me hot, really hot, and sweaty and dizzy and mouth breathing even when I haven’t worked hard enough to warrant any of the above. No excuses, right? I was still there I just skipped nutrition and took my littles home early. I’m sure that the nutritionist had something thought-provoking to say but honestly, this is my third trip through here and I doubt that she imparted anything Earth shattering on the class. Also, I don’t have the energy to be a smart ass so it would be infinitely less fun.
I feel like I did really well for most of last week and it even looked like I would be able to lose a pound or two. I did almost 5 hours in the gym last week to the tune of 4200 calories burned. I know. That’s a ton of work. And what do I do? I drank my calories Saturday night, inhaled my calories in the form of cheesy soup, licked the beaters of my calories while making cupcakes for Ella’s half birthday and munched handfuls of candy colored sweetheart candy calories. I’m not proud.
But I think the week will end up being a wash.
On the upside, I’ll be able to crush a skull. Even if it’s my own.