Queenstown bureau chief Tracey Roxburgh documents the highs and lows as she takes part in the Queenstown Winter Festival Lindauer Ladies Fitness and Fashion Challenge.
Monday, April 5
Receive exercise programme for four weeks ... the ONLY empty square for the next four weeks is today.
Tomorrow to do RPM (spinning class).
At 6.15am.
Richie tries to make me excited in print with three exclamation marks.
Am not fooled.
Or excited.
Have never done RPM before, never wanted to and don't believe I'm going to change my mind overnight.
Nothing about sitting on a bike and spinning legs as fast as I can while getting nowhere seems appealing.
Kind friend offers to come with me - she also thought I should take bike helmet along - seeing as I am accident prone, did contemplate this.
Decided I would already look enough of a numpty, no need to exacerbate situation.
Go to friend's house for lovely dinner.
Friend who shall remain nameless (Stacy McTaggart) waltzes in with chicken burger and chips.
Took everything I had not to wrestle her to the ground and wrench said burger and chips from her hands and shove them whole into my mouth.
Drink my water and dream of that chicken burger.
Tuesday, April 6
5.20am: Have dream alarm is going off.
Not a dream.
Not happy6am: At Lakes Leisure in car park getting very anxious.
Kind friend not here yet.
Her deadline is 6.10am, if she does not arrive, I will chicken out and go home.
6.05am: Friend arrives.
Say bad word.
6.08am: Swipe my card at Lakes Leisure.
It says (actually does, out loud) "Houston, we have a problem".
Wanted to say "just the one?".
6.11am: In the RPM class. First mission to move bike. Took much effort - spotting newbie not hard.
Is very technical this biking caper.
All sorts of levers and dials.
Also question why the seat must be so small.
Inherently uncomfortable.
6.15am: Begin RPM class.
Not too bad.
Really liked the bit where they turned off the lights. This makes me very happy.
6.35am: Am ready to pick up drink bottle and hurl it at instructor.
Sitting on bike and then standing on bike pedals, simultaneously pedalling, while "going up hill". Wondered if leaving bike helmet behind was mistake. Foot comes out of pedal, which refused to stop moving.
Pedal smacks me in shin.
Another bruise to look forward to. [Note to self: next time bring shin pads.]7.10am: Drink bottle falls off bike.
Get off bike to pick it up. Try to get back on bike (really did try).
Head spinning.
Lie down on floor at back of class. Fear vomiting or fainting. Neither of these are a good look.
8.10am: Face still tomato-colour.
Have almost camouflaged with my burgundy wall.
9am: At work.
Legs and arms like jello, strange considering arms didn't do much work - must have been the effort from moving the bike. 10.39am: Have been up for five hours.
Ordinarily, if I had been up for five hours it would be 1pm.
Am depressed.
11.45am: Eating cardboard and tomato.
Not satisfied.
Have lost count of toilet stops. 4.11pm: Colleague drinking fizzy-pop.
Would really like that fizzy-pop.
She says I can because it has "no calories". Methinks Richie would disagree.
Settle for celery.
Is not the same as fizzy-pop.
Wednesday, April 7
9am: First training session with Richie.
Made me enter the scary room with weights.
Made me do squats, this was not too bad.
Then made me to squats with a heavy ball, then with weights.
Had to involve arm movements.
Thought arms may fall off.
Also had to use machines.
One not too bad.
The other is disgusting.
Partly because Richie decides to sneakily put the weight up ... he thought I wouldn't see him.
I did.
Disgusting one causes so much pain I tried to say a word and no vowel sounds come out.
Have to do one-legged step ups.
With weights.
Richie says free weights are "where it's at".
Don't want to go there, thank-you.
Richie and I have already developed a bartering system.
He tells me to do something, I ask him nicely to please take weights down, he says no and then I do it.
He says I will "probably" hurt in the next couple of days and to "enjoy" the pain ... spoken like a true fit person.
Twenty-three training sessions with Richie to go (yes, am already counting them down).
10.10am: Say bad word about Richie while trying to get dressed.
Arms have started to shake.
11.23am: Am having difficulty typing due to shaky arms.
Tried to stand up and have immense pain in legs. 11.45am: Want coffee.
Am going to have coffee.
Realise (and am VERY proud of me) this will be by second cup of coffee in 24 hours.
This is quite the accomplishment!
Thursday, April 8
6.15am: Another RPM torture session.
Can not move bike on my own.
Arms refuse to co-operate.
Kind friend does it for me.
Different instructor.
He's mean.
To start with he leaves lights on.
Even straps my feet in to pedals, which makes planned quick escape out of the question.
Legs refuse to work. Instructor says turn up dial, so I give it just one sneaky click ... sometimes I just pretend to move it but don't [ssh, that's our secret].
8.30am: Trying to park car. Arms now won't co-operate. Feel like I have been strung up by my wrists and left hanging for 24 hours.
Noon: My favourite "Australian" has arrived and am suddenly craving wine.
First time all week, but my mouth is starting to water at the thought of wine.
Or beer.
Or gin.
Or tequila.
In fact anything with an alcoholic content. 12.15pm: Am scaring myself. Have oodles of energy and am in VERY good mood.
Possibly because of favourite Aussie. Possibly because week is almost over.
Can guarantee will not be this happy at 6am tomorrow.
6.30pm: Good mood gone. Feels like someone has stuck hot knives in my neck, back, shoulders and arms.
Go to nutritional talk - all the other ladies have sore legs, so now am wondering if I'm doing it wrong. Nutrition talk very good.
In essence, I need to eat the way my grandma did.
Except she cooked roasts in lard.
Do not think Mandy Coddington would agree with this.
Friday, April 9
6am: At gym.
Tell Richie I hurt.
He doesn't seem to care. Makes me do everything I did on Wednesday as well as lunges (with weights) and press-ups.
Little muscle joining arm to shoulder feels like a rubber band which may snap at any moment.
Made me go on the disgusting machine again.
Really, really hate that machine.
7am: Trying to walk down stairs.
Trying is operative word. Legs are gammy (not aided by sore ankle) but jello feeling has returned.
10.35am: Fifth coffee for the week (would normally have consumed that amount by noon on a Monday).
While waiting for coffee two people tell me I have the glow back.
This brightens my mood - have not had "the glow" for 12 months.
Just 85 days to go (that's 2040 hours in case you were wondering).
