pool pushups

The Grinch, er, Coach

In the spirit of Christmas, and because I do so love caroling (much to Big Ring’s chagrin), and because, following my first aqua jogging session in nearly a year, I was inspired, I’ve decided to treat you all with a carol of my own. Here’s to you Coach NZ ­čśë You’re an evil one, Mrs. Coach. You really are a boss, While your accent is cuddly as a bear, charming as a debonair, It doesn’t fool me, because I know You’re just a sweat-loving Kiwi with a stinky brown peel! You’re a monster, Mrs. Coach, Your heart’s an empty gear, Your brain is full of speed intervals, You’ve got killer pushups and nasty tricep dips in your soul, Mrs. Coach, I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty nine and a half foot pole! You’re a vile one, Mrs. Coach. You have pace bunnies in your smile. You have all the …

The Grinch, er, Coach

Just call me Aqua Woman

My arms were shaking. No wait, scratch that, they were quaking as I repeatedly lifted my body up out of the water and then slowly back down again, with just my wet, slippery hands planted flat over the ledge for support. Are you freaking kidding me? I’m doing pushups in the pool? I don’t even do pushups on dry land, let alone anything with my arms, but here I am up down, up down, up down, holy crap, my arms are going to cave. Welcome to extreme aqua running. A couple weeks ago my favourite ironchickie started the process of becoming an ironchickie coach, which is a two-year process that, among other things, requires her to volunteer 75 hours of coaching time. When I discovered this, I was super excited, and I was all in for submitting my name as guinea pig. That excitement, however, soon turned to fear. Two …

Just call me Aqua Woman