Not so very long ago our routine consisted of boxing and skipping. Pretty simple! But today, Aidan redoubled his attempts to kill me.
Today we boxed, we sat-up (with 7kg medicine ball), we pushed-up, we burpeed (with medicine ball), we lifted weights, and we did something I don’t know the name of but it hurt.
I complain, but mostly in jest. It actually feels really good. I feel like I’m achieving something, right up until I come inside and eat chocolate. (Time of month, I’m allowed, yes?) I’m cautiously optimistic about increasing the time and intensity of the workout over time, and eventually being able to call myself… FIT!