Queenstown bureau chief Tracey Roxburgh documents the highs and lows in the Queenstown Winter Festival Lindauer Ladies Fitness and Fashion Challenge.
Friday, April 9
7pm: Have a glass of wine with "Australian".
8pm: Decide to have another.
8.30pm: Friend and I dine in restaurant. Surrounded by people eating spring rolls and toasted sandwiches with cheese oozing from them. Have calamari on lettuce.
9pm: Finish second glass of wine, eyes involuntarily closing.
9.30pm: In PJs and bed like a nana.
Saturday, April 10
6pm: Arrowtown Bulls retain the White Horse Cup. Am given a beer. One Bull tries to wrestle beer from me; he knows I'm not allowed it. Am prepared to fight to death. He releases his grip.
7.30pm: Australian friend seeks Fergburger. My will power is not strong. Have burger. Choose fish one: is good source of Omega 3... Burger is most excellent.
Sunday, April 11
3.30pm: Visit slightly dusty friends who last night promised to walk up Tobin's Track with me. Admittedly, they were under the influence at the time.
4.15pm: Begin Tobin's Walk. Have not walked to the top of Tobin's since I was 7. Five minutes in am sounding like 7-year-old. Am asking - repeatedly - "Are we there yet?" Have to stop every two minutes and then get quite dizzy. Apparently have altitude sickness.
5.15pm: At base camp. Group consensus to have a celebratory glass of wine. When next round is ordered I leave.
Monday, April 11
8am: Posterior slightly painful.
1pm: Starving. Flatmate (who deserves sainthood) made me lunch. Take large bite of chicken and salad wrap. Odd something in my mouth. Remove it to find tinfoil.
3.47pm: Posterior pain has moved to the saddlebags region.
5.55pm: Cowboy swagger replaced by Charlie Chaplin impersonation.
7pm: At gym. By choice. Programme told me to walk Tobin's but is dark outside and am still scared of little Tobin ghost. Do 1 hour cardio.
7.15pm: Thinking 1 hour cardio was bad idea.
7.16pm: Find motivation. In the form of Diesel jeans I love. Said jeans have been hanging in wardrobe for almost 12 months. Focus on jeans and crank up dial marked "speed".
8pm: Legs have taken on a life of their own. Am trying very hard to co-ordinate them, but they do not want a bar of it.
8.30pm: At home. Flatmate laughs at me trying to take off my shoes.
9pm: Get off couch to go to kitchen. Knees buckle. Flatmate (still laughing) says I remind her of Kaiser Soze.
9.10pm: Remember those little plastic dolls, about the size of your thumb, held together with elastic and mounted on a little round or square stand. When you pushed bottom of stand the elastic went slack and the donkey crumbled.
That's what I'm walking like. That or a pregnant duck.
Tuesday, April 13
5.20am: Try to get out of bed but pain consumes legs.
6am: At gym ... not by choice. 6.10am: Am doing weights in scary room all by myself. Well, there are other people, but I don't know them. Am quietly proud of myself. Lost sleep last night over going to the gym on my own. But really is not so bad.
Actually, am lying. Is awful. Legs are screaming at me. Have a little Mexican voice in my head saying "Feel the burrrrn."
7.56am: Have to move foot from accelerator to brake. Pain shoots up thigh.
8am: Walking down steep little gravel track from car park. Am biting lip so hard am surprised it's not bleeding. Pain is immense.
9.32am: Am looking forward to lunch - another treat from flatmate. This time she has wrapped it in plastic (am not allowed tin foil again until I can learn not to eat it).
Also looking forward to afternoon tea, cottage cheese and berries. 9.33am: Realise how sad it is I am looking forward to cottage cheese and berries.
2.17pm: Cottage cheese and berries ... interesting combination.
3.33pm: Have marked days on calendar which I will cross off to keep me motivated. Today is day 8. Pleasant surprise: there are "only" 84 days in The Challenge ... which means just 76 to go (1824 hours).
Wednesday, April 14
9am: Training session with Richie Lambert. He takes last week's food diary. Tell him about Fergburger (best he is prepared before seeing that). He doesn't yell. However, this morning he decides to give legs a break. Am happy.
Happiness short-lived. Begins punishing upper body instead.
Didn't have to do too much on the disgusting machine as a man was having a wee nap on it. Instead had to do other things, which hurt just as much.
Accidentally told Richie the difficulty level on one torture machine was "5", so he put weights up.
9.40am: Richie decides to give me a "finisher". A "finisher" is used "sometimes" to do something that will kill you when you're almost finished exercising.
Lie on back and push 15kg, 10kg, 5kg and 2.5kg weights up 15 times each. By the time I get to 2.5kg ones, arms are dead.
Then Richie is really horrible and starts putting the weights back on. Managed to do 79 in total before water started to leak from my eyeballs. Am glad we only have to do this "sometimes".
10.10am: Do not have the physical strength to do hair.
10.20am: See a friend at Lakes Leisure. She tells me I've lost weight in my face. Is not target area, but this makes me feel a bit better.
11.23am: Try to dial a number on my phone. Arms shaking.
11.24am: Third attempt at dialling successful. However, have to rest elbows on desk in order to talk on phone.
3.16pm: Arms feeling less dead. Also, walking style less pregnant duck-like.
Thursday, April 15
6.05am: Wake up. RPM starts in 10 minutes. Am not going to make it. Text kind friend. She is not happy with me.
7.10am: Kind friend calls me a bad name in a text for not going to RPM. Now, I have to go and do cardio tonight.
9.31am: Am so tired I could put my head on desk and have a snooze. Entire body feels like it has been filled with lead.
12.12pm: Email from kind friend who has ceased calling me bad name. She says you get fit when you sleep. If this is true why I am not extreme athlete?
5pm: Flatmate decides another walk up Tobin's Track is in order. We take friend's dog (Audrey). 5.30pm: Receive text from Richie saying he will see me "bright and breezy" at 6am. Do not know anyone who is bright or breezy at 6am.
5.40pm: Lungs are burning. Audrey is looking at me with disdain because I can't keep up with her.
6.55pm: Back at base camp. Suspect Audrey ran up and down Tobin's three times in the time it took me to do it once.
Friday, April 16
5.10am: Alarm goes off. Filled with dread.
6.10am: Happy news. Richie is not making me do a "finisher" today. Water almost leaked from eyeballs due to happiness.
6.20am: Richie tells me I will enjoy it more next week because we won't be doing so many weights. We might have a go at boxing... Looking forward to hitting Richie.
9.41am: Normal walking style has returned. Hallelujah.
2.30pm: At physio for gammy ankle. Acupuncture needles are whipped out. Water streams from eyeballs and won't stop. Believe my body is releasing toxins. Have accumulated many toxins in 12 months... It would appear they are all exiting via my eyeballs.
