This is followed up by stretching and crying of course.
By day 3 it got better but those first few days were pure fuckery.
For example, I still see stars after the first 10 squats. Have finally gotten up to 25. Without assistance it is just a test of balance. With assistance it is a respectable depth … of pain that leads to soul searching.
I’m getting to the age where the only thing hard about my body is living in it.
Doing squats gives me the same feeling I get when I've been hit really hard and there's a strong possibility I might pass out.
I spread 50 squats over the course of a day. It can be 5 sets of 10 or 2 sets of 25 or 3 sets of 15 with one set of 5. Most are assisted (holding on to something). None are that deep (like me in my 20s) and they all hurt.
They are supposed to help loosen up the psoas (muscles that hate my ass) but the only body part that feels worked out are the tear ducts.
Honestly, I’m happy to be able to do this exercise to strengthen the core and build endurance to keep going.
And, fuck squats. The two feelings can coexist. I don't just say this because I look like a fat duckling that’s about to fall over when I do them. It’s because they suck. My cat looks at me like he’s worried then he remembers he has an auto feeder.
Strangely though … I LOVE burpees. They are possibly listed in the Geneva Convention as things you can’t do to prisoners BUT I can do a set of 5 to 10 every hour on the hour. Go figure.
Maybe the jumping out of a squat makes the soul think it is ascending to heaven without actually trying to send me there.
As far as squats vs burpees, my burpees make me look like a hand sculpted Egyptian God standing in the golden sunset. My squats make you wonder if I just shit myself. Go figure.
Tirade complete.
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