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Tuesday and Wednesday. Sleep is for the weak.

Tuesday
Normally I sleep like a baby with narcolepsy that’s been hitting the gin. But, for some unknown reason, I was wide awake and boring holes into the bedroom ceiling with my bloodshot, unblinking eyes from around 2am this morning. It wasn’t the usual awake, need a wee, snuggle back under the duvet, think about Nigella Lawson and drift back off into the Land of Nod kind of awake. It was the kind of awake where there is absolutely no chance of even attempting sleep. It was the kind of awake that makes you doubt if you would ever sleep again. Maybe I don’t need sleep anymore. Maybe I’ve evolved to be able to cope without sleep. I don’t feel sleepy. Just think of all the things I could get done if I didn’t need to sleep. The rocks I could collect. The ill conceived DIY projects I could start but not complete. The mean streets of Cardiff  kept safe and clean by a shadowy midnight avenger. I could have a cape. I’ve always wanted a cape.

Instead of becoming a caped crusader of justice I got out of bed and went downstairs. Now, what is a man, alone in a silent house at 2am going to do to pass the time with only the Internet to, ahem, hand? Cruise the information superhighway for strange and exotic porn featuring kitchen utensils and dwarfs?

No.

Tragically, what I did was watch back to back episodes of Masterchef and learn what to do with  monkfish liver and some brioche. I’m getting old.

Once I had got the kids off to school, and the dog sorted, I gave up and went back to bed. It turned out that I hadn’t evolved beyond the need for sleep and passed out almost immediately. After waking up and staring uncomprehendingly at my bedside clock for quite a long time I decided it was time to get my fat, confused and late arse to the gym for a workout.

Today was cardio day and the new Dave’s Gym Challenge. For more info go to the Blog home page and check out the challenge tab. The cardio session today was the usual cycle, crosstrain, run trio of terrors. This isn’t getting any easier. Although it’s only 10 mins of each exercise (less for the run which is a kilometer done as fast as you can  – just over 5 mins for me and about 4 mins for Rhod), we are training to our heart rate and not some random level selection. I try to keep my heart rate between 145 and 170bpm for the whole session – although it goes much higher then that on the run. Doing it this way ensures that I’m always working at the correct level of intensity. It also means that as I get fitter I have to use a higher level of intensity to achieve the same heart rate. There is a small part of me that suspects that what I am doing is flogging myself into a sweaty lather just for the privilege of doing it harder next time. I try not to examine this suspicion too closely as it might make me give up all useful forms of exercise and take up golf.

Wednesday
Fortunately there was no repeat of last night’s sleeplessness and, once the kids had been herded off to school, Zoe and I took the mutt for a walk.My reputation as “that strange man that carries large rocks and lumps of heavy driftwood around” seems to have spread, as I now have little old ladies sidling up to me and whispering out of the corners of their mouths that they’ve just seen some lovely looking bricks just off Friars Point. I think this is super cool. Zoe thinks it’s lamentable.

Dogs walked, beaches stripped and wives kissed it was time to head off to the gym and another cracking workout. It’s going well at the moment and long may it continue.

Here it is:

The week of 3 reps on the 5/3/1 cycle is always the best and we both felt strong today. I changed my warm up to include more running in an attempt to push my fitness a little harder. The inclusion of Romanians in the program are a welcome addition but are killing our hamstrings for days afterwards. Which is good.

I had a lot of one to one sessions booked in for the rest of the day. I don’t charge for these. If you’re a member of my gym you get me thrown in for free – whether you want me or not.

Thanks for reading.
Dave Carter.
Dave’s Gym.
Cardiff.

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