My trainer's moving back to his home town just before Christmas, to take care of his little brother while his Mum's sick. I think she has some kind of degenerative disease, so it's serious stuff, and he's helping pay for his Mum's mortgage at the same time as stepping in for his sibling. I thought about jumping ship back to the trainer that I started off with, but seeing as I was at the point where I was doing my own weights workout at the gym by myself, maintaining progress on my running skills, and basically relying on my trainer for that added push and extra motivation when I'm at a low point... I decided to bite the bullet and go it alone.
I figure that if I'm stuck in the bush somewhere and wondering what Brian Boitano would do, I'll have to find a way out of it myself. If I do make it through boot camp to the point where I'm hanging on with all my might to get through the graduation requirements, no one else is going to be there to help me. It might be the memories of my trainer yelling at me to not give in, to believe that I am capable, that there's nothing to it but to do it, but it's ultimately going to be all up to me. So if I don't learn to push myself to my limits, by continuing to see a trainer I would only learn how to let someone else push me to do so. I bet there'll be plenty of that in the Air Force to come, anyway.
Even though I came to the realisation that a lot of this whole get-fit-to-fly journey has been me going solo, it's kind of sad not training with anyone any more. I was telling a friend of mine a couple weeks ago that I was spending more of my waking hours at the gym or training outdoors than actually at home, and that my trainer probably knew more about what was going on in my life than any of my other friends or family. The extent of social sport that I experience is playing tennis and golf on the Wii... the rest of the time that I'm clocking up on fitness is pretty much spent alone, or with relative strangers.
It's strange comparing the past couple months to the year or so that I spent trying to focus on losing weight. I guess I didn't really feel like the goal of getting to the skies was actually possible without achieving a respectable BMI and level of fitness. Despite the awesome support of weekly meetings and sharing thoughts and feelings with people of parallel paths, I never actually made it as far as I've come now... and I haven't been to a meeting since before I started personal training. I guess what I've done is quite similar to the other times in my life that I've lost a chunk of weight without focusing ridiculously on doing so; I've made my focus on getting fit and the weight has just come off as a consequence.
I'm feeling a lot better than I did compared to when I made the previous post exactly a month ago. I've got a few seconds to knock off my 2.4km run time, and now that I'm doing outdoor runs I'm a lot more confident about making it in 13 minutes without dropping by the end of it. I'll probably need a heart rate monitor and/or stopwatch to check on my pace, but just huffing and puffing in the sunshine is a vast improvement compared to thunking away on a treadmill. I tried doing interval runs in boots a couple of weeks ago, but I think my boots are still trying to break me in. Need to shop for uber socks before I try that again. I'll be ecstatic if I manage to do the 2.4km in 13 minutes whilst wearing boots!
I'm on the verge of getting a decent book about training for running, despite feeling completely dorky for wanting to read up on something so seemingly simple to do. I picked up the Elite Forces Manual of Mental and Physical Endurance, which makes for interesting reading, despite inducing hardcore 'someday that's gonna be me!' thoughts. I'm not quite up to SAS standards of fitness, sadly, considering day one of a sample running program in the book is 3km... the Tan is 3.827km(!) and I still can't run it all without slowing or stopping in parts.
Thankfully I'm over my hatred of bikes. I think after realising that proper seat/handlebar adjustment is key to enjoyment of spin classes, and that even the hardest bike workout at the gym is never as bad as how a hardcore run feels, I'm okay with it. If I had money to spare and more time to commute, I'd think seriously about getting a real bike and going bush... but that would just be procrastinating over developing my running legs, I think. I'm not sure how safe I'd be running through proper forests and stuff (I used to think that runners in forests were mad not to just take it easy and enjoy the scenery), but I'd love to work up to that point some day.
I haven't even made it to a gym with a pool this year, to find out if I can remember how to swim. I know that swimming is meant to be awesome cardio and all-over body workout, but I picked the Air Force over the Navy for a good reason. Water and I have never really got along too well... I used to contend that it's because I'm an Aries at heart, but there's meant to be a bit of Pisces in me too! I must admit that I tried snorkelling for the first time this year and loved the feeling of gliding through the water with flippers on, not worrying about how to breathe properly underwater. It was like having one of those unpanicked dreams where you're clearly under the sea, breathing magically, without a care about how or why you're able to exist there when normally it'd be a struggle or at least require some kind of apparatus.
If I don't get enlisted within a few months, I think I could almost be a candidate for a Triathlon! Or maybe a charity fun run, more like. I keep hearing ads on the radio to do courses in personal training, and just the other day someone said to me if all else fails I could probably end up being a fitness instructor. I guess it's weird throwing myself into this whole fitness game for the sake of a career that's probably going to end up making me gain a heap of weight from all the cooking and eating involved. Maybe one could see it as a waste of application, all my fitness knowledge and skills going out the window in a few years to be replaced by whatever the consequences of making pudding from scratch could be. We'll see.
Tuesday, December 12
Sunday, November 12
just hangin' around
More often than not, I'll wake up in the mornings feeling rested and motivated to start a new day. If it's a training day (three days out of the week), I might have a little edge of the can't-be-bothereds but usually by the time I eat some fruit and jump into the car I'm ready to go and looking forward to whatever sadistic task my trainer's thought of for me that day. I've been soldiering on for about a month and a half with my training and last week I felt my first real setback.
It was floating about the back of my mind ever since I read the information booklet for boot camp. However, after getting such great results over my first month of training, I'd forgotten how much work I've got to put in to get where I want to be before boot camp, let alone to make it through boot camp in one piece. I was looking good, feeling good, waking up strong... After checking out the details for the run I have to do for boot camp (13 minutes to get to 2.4km, totally doable), and finding to my relief that I only have to do thirty sit-ups (medicine-ball training will get me there easily), I rediscovered my old nemesis: the flexed arm hang.
Imagine a chin up but without the action of pulling yourself up over the bar. Just holding yourself there, poised with muscles frozen in the upper position, in one of the most killer isometric contractions ever. No rest for the muscles that are working, it's just work work work until you drop yourself off the bar. I remember trying to do flexed arm hangs in high school, back when I probably had bugger all upper body strength, but I also weighed a lot less as well, and I could only manage three, maybe five seconds. There were freaks who could just hang there all day if they really felt like it, but that was never me.
My trainer figured it was time to start working on the hang, seeing as I'd tried and failed to hold myself up on the bar of the Smith Machine at the studio. Moving the bar down far enough so I could still support some of my weight with my feet/legs, I did some assisted hangs, if you will, which still killed me. I also did some holds on the lateral pulldown machine, struggling with the equivalent of less than half my body weight.
It was the first time since my interview that I've honestly felt like chucking the whole thing in. I felt so ridiculously far from the physical level I needed to be at to get through boot camp, it just seemed pointless to keep pouring money into training that would take well until next year. It was pathetic just hanging there, not even holding my whole weight, with tears springing to my eyes, and that stupid voice in the back of my head saying I can't do it, I can't do it.
I can't even remember a time when I wanted something so badly, that the thought that I might not be able to get it, almost crushed me. I'm still not feeling particularly positive about this whole hanging business, although I'm sure I can get the run and the sit-ups down pat. I know that I'll be fit enough for pre-enlistment requirements, but there's not much point if it's near-impossible for me to do the hang.
I've already come a long way in a month and a half, further than I thought I would when I first started training. I've got faith in my ability to get there, but it's just hard to think of the bigger picture when this little frame of the movie of my life seems so damning. I'm going to see where I'm at in another month and a half, and then maybe review my chances.
It was floating about the back of my mind ever since I read the information booklet for boot camp. However, after getting such great results over my first month of training, I'd forgotten how much work I've got to put in to get where I want to be before boot camp, let alone to make it through boot camp in one piece. I was looking good, feeling good, waking up strong... After checking out the details for the run I have to do for boot camp (13 minutes to get to 2.4km, totally doable), and finding to my relief that I only have to do thirty sit-ups (medicine-ball training will get me there easily), I rediscovered my old nemesis: the flexed arm hang.
Imagine a chin up but without the action of pulling yourself up over the bar. Just holding yourself there, poised with muscles frozen in the upper position, in one of the most killer isometric contractions ever. No rest for the muscles that are working, it's just work work work until you drop yourself off the bar. I remember trying to do flexed arm hangs in high school, back when I probably had bugger all upper body strength, but I also weighed a lot less as well, and I could only manage three, maybe five seconds. There were freaks who could just hang there all day if they really felt like it, but that was never me.
My trainer figured it was time to start working on the hang, seeing as I'd tried and failed to hold myself up on the bar of the Smith Machine at the studio. Moving the bar down far enough so I could still support some of my weight with my feet/legs, I did some assisted hangs, if you will, which still killed me. I also did some holds on the lateral pulldown machine, struggling with the equivalent of less than half my body weight.
It was the first time since my interview that I've honestly felt like chucking the whole thing in. I felt so ridiculously far from the physical level I needed to be at to get through boot camp, it just seemed pointless to keep pouring money into training that would take well until next year. It was pathetic just hanging there, not even holding my whole weight, with tears springing to my eyes, and that stupid voice in the back of my head saying I can't do it, I can't do it.
I can't even remember a time when I wanted something so badly, that the thought that I might not be able to get it, almost crushed me. I'm still not feeling particularly positive about this whole hanging business, although I'm sure I can get the run and the sit-ups down pat. I know that I'll be fit enough for pre-enlistment requirements, but there's not much point if it's near-impossible for me to do the hang.
I've already come a long way in a month and a half, further than I thought I would when I first started training. I've got faith in my ability to get there, but it's just hard to think of the bigger picture when this little frame of the movie of my life seems so damning. I'm going to see where I'm at in another month and a half, and then maybe review my chances.
Wednesday, October 25
it won't happen overnight...
It's been about a month since I started training properly. I've collected a handful of compliments, gained some upper body musculature, thrown out a heap of clothes that don't fit any more, and I'm pretty sure that the goals I'd scrawled down in my personal fitness diary have been met. Sure, I was a little vague in saying that I wanted to be the fittest I've ever been, but without having measured my fitness throughout my entire life, I can only go by how I feel.
The sessions are continuing to challenge me, and though it's still disconcerting that while I'm in the middle of a session I feel incredibly unfit and pushed way beyond my limits, afterwards I feel good with the knowledge that I've worked bloody hard. I read a motto somewhere: if I can do this, I can do better. Sounds more like an applied version of what doesn't kill me can only make me stronger, ey. Pity that most of the time when I'm doing cardio intervals I actually do feel like I'm about to die. I think I've forgotten the difference between good and bad pain, and can only hope that if I'm really about to burst a vital organ, I'll know when to stop.
I'm managing to get to the gym at least once a day, sometimes twice if I train in the mornings as well as the afternoon. I never really thought I'd do it, but I've actually made training a priority in my life. Next on the list is nutrition, which I must admit will probably be more of a struggle than just doing the physical side of things. I dig food way too much, and cook/shop for the stuff way too little. I can read as many books as I want to on nutrition, but what I really need to do is focus on the long term application of such knowledge.
I think the hardest thing about living a life that revolves around food, is trying to control what to eat and when. Obsessing over food is such a horrible diet mentality, even though I know I am free to make choices for the rest of my life, and I know that the choices I generally make are good for me. I've never enjoyed saying no to food that I like, or being around people that are consciously depriving themselves of the pleasures of so-called bad food. I guess I just don't want to become one of them as well.
It's pretty cool that I'm already seeing really good results, and I haven't made that many changes to my diet as yet. I'm hoping that once I buckle down with the nutrition side of things, I'll actually stop sabotaging the good that I've done!
The sessions are continuing to challenge me, and though it's still disconcerting that while I'm in the middle of a session I feel incredibly unfit and pushed way beyond my limits, afterwards I feel good with the knowledge that I've worked bloody hard. I read a motto somewhere: if I can do this, I can do better. Sounds more like an applied version of what doesn't kill me can only make me stronger, ey. Pity that most of the time when I'm doing cardio intervals I actually do feel like I'm about to die. I think I've forgotten the difference between good and bad pain, and can only hope that if I'm really about to burst a vital organ, I'll know when to stop.
I'm managing to get to the gym at least once a day, sometimes twice if I train in the mornings as well as the afternoon. I never really thought I'd do it, but I've actually made training a priority in my life. Next on the list is nutrition, which I must admit will probably be more of a struggle than just doing the physical side of things. I dig food way too much, and cook/shop for the stuff way too little. I can read as many books as I want to on nutrition, but what I really need to do is focus on the long term application of such knowledge.
I think the hardest thing about living a life that revolves around food, is trying to control what to eat and when. Obsessing over food is such a horrible diet mentality, even though I know I am free to make choices for the rest of my life, and I know that the choices I generally make are good for me. I've never enjoyed saying no to food that I like, or being around people that are consciously depriving themselves of the pleasures of so-called bad food. I guess I just don't want to become one of them as well.
It's pretty cool that I'm already seeing really good results, and I haven't made that many changes to my diet as yet. I'm hoping that once I buckle down with the nutrition side of things, I'll actually stop sabotaging the good that I've done!
Friday, October 6
thought for food
I've switched trainers (I know, so soon?!), so now I'm with the ex-assistant general manager of the restaurant that relocated to where I'm working now. Not that I knew him particularly well in the first place (we'd spoken a bit at my interview, and a couple times when he visited the restaurant since relocating/opening), but after chatting about what I was paying at Fitness First and what I was getting from it, I decided he was actually going to give me a better deal.
I'm doing three 45-minute sessions a week for a couple months or so, then probably cranking that up to one hour stints. So, a little more intense than the twice-weekly 45 and 30 minute sessions I had planned with the other trainer. I've also read a tome I was given about nutrition, called Eat Chocolate, Drink Alcohol and be Lean & Healthy, and met the author too! I have a bit of a weakness for anything along the lines of self-help non-fiction, so it only took me a couple of days to get through the book. Trouble is, it's going to take me longer than that to actually implement a lot of things from it, that I know are good ideas.
I have always been the sort to give myself a licence to eat whatever if I'm working hard at the gym or elsewhere, or a licence to slack off at the gym if I'm eating particularly well, but never really had the discipline to put in a good effort on both fronts. So I can definitely do with some decent advice on nutrition and supplements. I'm glad that I was sort of right about presuming that supermarket vitamins are predominantly a waste of time and money, compared to taking good quality (and necessary) supplements and eating a variety of fresh food.
The personal training happens in this awesome studio in St Kilda... it's down an alley along the side of a pub, on the top level of an office building. It's not as dingy or dodgy as it sounds, although I still feel that working out in a private studio is something that guns for hire do in their time between jobs, or something. There's a bit of cardio equipment, a range of multi-purpose weight machines and free weights, some punching bags and a boxing ring. I've really got to find somewhere to go for a semi-regular swim in summer, to see if I remember how to do it, and it's a pretty good workout too. Seems kinda crazy that I'm paying all this money to train and I still have to pay more again to get some pool access!
Training is quite simple in its design (well, I wouldn't call a bit of boxing, cardio and weights training elaborate), but it's definitely pushing me a lot further than I would have done alone. It's also more structured and measurable than what I was doing at Fitness First. There might not be as much variety, but at least I can tell that I'm lifting heavier weights every couple weeks, and going harder on cardio as the sessions continue.
In another fortnight I'm going to start taking some organic supplements, so I've got to keep track of how I'm feeling and moving about for the sake of the 'before' picture. I get my money back after a month or so, if I don't think I've improved enough. I guess the thing is, I'll be working out so much, I might not be able to tell if I'm feeling better because I'm actually healthier and fitter, or whether I can attribute it to the supplements... We'll see how it goes. There's no way that I'm getting enough of what I need at the moment, so surely once I start doing so, it will be noticeable.
This week I'm aiming to eat more fresh fruit and vegetables, drink water regularly, scoff a decent breakfast every day, avoid loading up on carbs just before bed, and get up early enough to work out in the morning as well as during my afternoon breaks. Shouldn't be too hard to do, as long as I fill the fruit bowl and fridge, watch what I eat at work, and quit hitting the snooze button so many times!
I'm doing three 45-minute sessions a week for a couple months or so, then probably cranking that up to one hour stints. So, a little more intense than the twice-weekly 45 and 30 minute sessions I had planned with the other trainer. I've also read a tome I was given about nutrition, called Eat Chocolate, Drink Alcohol and be Lean & Healthy, and met the author too! I have a bit of a weakness for anything along the lines of self-help non-fiction, so it only took me a couple of days to get through the book. Trouble is, it's going to take me longer than that to actually implement a lot of things from it, that I know are good ideas.
I have always been the sort to give myself a licence to eat whatever if I'm working hard at the gym or elsewhere, or a licence to slack off at the gym if I'm eating particularly well, but never really had the discipline to put in a good effort on both fronts. So I can definitely do with some decent advice on nutrition and supplements. I'm glad that I was sort of right about presuming that supermarket vitamins are predominantly a waste of time and money, compared to taking good quality (and necessary) supplements and eating a variety of fresh food.
The personal training happens in this awesome studio in St Kilda... it's down an alley along the side of a pub, on the top level of an office building. It's not as dingy or dodgy as it sounds, although I still feel that working out in a private studio is something that guns for hire do in their time between jobs, or something. There's a bit of cardio equipment, a range of multi-purpose weight machines and free weights, some punching bags and a boxing ring. I've really got to find somewhere to go for a semi-regular swim in summer, to see if I remember how to do it, and it's a pretty good workout too. Seems kinda crazy that I'm paying all this money to train and I still have to pay more again to get some pool access!
Training is quite simple in its design (well, I wouldn't call a bit of boxing, cardio and weights training elaborate), but it's definitely pushing me a lot further than I would have done alone. It's also more structured and measurable than what I was doing at Fitness First. There might not be as much variety, but at least I can tell that I'm lifting heavier weights every couple weeks, and going harder on cardio as the sessions continue.
In another fortnight I'm going to start taking some organic supplements, so I've got to keep track of how I'm feeling and moving about for the sake of the 'before' picture. I get my money back after a month or so, if I don't think I've improved enough. I guess the thing is, I'll be working out so much, I might not be able to tell if I'm feeling better because I'm actually healthier and fitter, or whether I can attribute it to the supplements... We'll see how it goes. There's no way that I'm getting enough of what I need at the moment, so surely once I start doing so, it will be noticeable.
This week I'm aiming to eat more fresh fruit and vegetables, drink water regularly, scoff a decent breakfast every day, avoid loading up on carbs just before bed, and get up early enough to work out in the morning as well as during my afternoon breaks. Shouldn't be too hard to do, as long as I fill the fruit bowl and fridge, watch what I eat at work, and quit hitting the snooze button so many times!
Friday, September 15
everybody hurts sometimes
There's almost something wrong about paying some stranger a semi-vast amount of money to cause you a certain amount of pain. Almost, I say.
Not that I've ever done proper personal training before (apart from setting up random weights/cardio programs by default with people at YMCA), but I guess I did go into this with some idea of what to expect. A good level of motivation, someone to push me to an appropriate level, and an educated estimate of the kind of goals I can achieve by the time I get enlisted.
So it all started off quite harmless. I picked out a trainer (male with a four letter name, not to be too fussy) and we spent the first session in a little consulting room. Took some measurements, didn't do anything more strenuous than a few situps, so things seemed almost too low key. Compared to one of my managers, who managed to throw up after six minutes on an exercise bike during her first personal training session, I thought I got off pretty easy.
My first session was three days ago and I'm still feeling the effects of it. I'm yet to figure out whether this is a good or a bad thing. I possibly made the mistake of telling my trainer that my legs were in pretty good shape, so I'd spent the past couple of months working on core stability and upper body. I must admit that after the workout, those areas of my body weren't rendered completely useless, but my legs were thrashed.
I think what he figured was that he could work my legs a lot harder than my upper body, but that only meant subsequent days of hobbling around and making old man noises every time I had to squat to get drinks out of the bar, or sit down in a car, or ease myself onto a toilet seat. There's the teensiest part of me that knows all this pain means that my muscles will eventually rebuild and be stronger than they were before, but in the meantime I'm almost regretting what I have to go through in order to get that strength.
Such exquisite pain that I haven't experienced for years, possibly since the first time I started going to gyms, which I guess is proof of how far I could push myself given half a chance. But who wants to take that chance? Stairs at work were not fun at all yesterday, and even though I've done some light cardio and upper body work in the meantime, I'm not sure I'm ready to punish my legs with some more work just yet. I think the moral of the story is, don't tell your trainer that you have any particular strengths... because they know exactly how to turn them into weaknesses within thirty minutes.
The handy thing about working with two guys that have just finished personal training courses, is that I can get a little free advice on active recovery. Oh, and a bit of a hand with proper stretching! I must admit that I'm glad I finally got off my butt to get some real training happening, as tough as it's going to be to forge on through work with a smile (and some degree of grace).
I've also got a certain level of immunity whenever I get poached by other trainers while I'm plugging away at my cardio. God knows how competitive a market it really is, but I think if I work out a realistic budget, I should be able to keep up training and still eat properly, with a little luck!
Not that I've ever done proper personal training before (apart from setting up random weights/cardio programs by default with people at YMCA), but I guess I did go into this with some idea of what to expect. A good level of motivation, someone to push me to an appropriate level, and an educated estimate of the kind of goals I can achieve by the time I get enlisted.
So it all started off quite harmless. I picked out a trainer (male with a four letter name, not to be too fussy) and we spent the first session in a little consulting room. Took some measurements, didn't do anything more strenuous than a few situps, so things seemed almost too low key. Compared to one of my managers, who managed to throw up after six minutes on an exercise bike during her first personal training session, I thought I got off pretty easy.
My first session was three days ago and I'm still feeling the effects of it. I'm yet to figure out whether this is a good or a bad thing. I possibly made the mistake of telling my trainer that my legs were in pretty good shape, so I'd spent the past couple of months working on core stability and upper body. I must admit that after the workout, those areas of my body weren't rendered completely useless, but my legs were thrashed.
I think what he figured was that he could work my legs a lot harder than my upper body, but that only meant subsequent days of hobbling around and making old man noises every time I had to squat to get drinks out of the bar, or sit down in a car, or ease myself onto a toilet seat. There's the teensiest part of me that knows all this pain means that my muscles will eventually rebuild and be stronger than they were before, but in the meantime I'm almost regretting what I have to go through in order to get that strength.
Such exquisite pain that I haven't experienced for years, possibly since the first time I started going to gyms, which I guess is proof of how far I could push myself given half a chance. But who wants to take that chance? Stairs at work were not fun at all yesterday, and even though I've done some light cardio and upper body work in the meantime, I'm not sure I'm ready to punish my legs with some more work just yet. I think the moral of the story is, don't tell your trainer that you have any particular strengths... because they know exactly how to turn them into weaknesses within thirty minutes.
The handy thing about working with two guys that have just finished personal training courses, is that I can get a little free advice on active recovery. Oh, and a bit of a hand with proper stretching! I must admit that I'm glad I finally got off my butt to get some real training happening, as tough as it's going to be to forge on through work with a smile (and some degree of grace).
I've also got a certain level of immunity whenever I get poached by other trainers while I'm plugging away at my cardio. God knows how competitive a market it really is, but I think if I work out a realistic budget, I should be able to keep up training and still eat properly, with a little luck!
Thursday, September 7
the spotless mind
I've never really been a big fan of cleaning. Tidying and sorting are more my style... I think that having grown up in a house where I've never been the messiest or dirtiest has instilled this sort of '100% good enough' attitude towards cleanliness ever since.
Dust never used to bother me until I heard somewhere that a vast percentage of it in households was actually from dead skin cells, but even then I only dusted my shelves every so often. I used to be a little squeamish about mould on dishes that had been left festering too long, or noticing smells in the kitchen that were organic yet not quite identifiable. Living with guys for most of my life had me in the position where I'd usually be the first person to get annoyed by the grottiness of something, but I must admit that I probably now have a greater tolerance for filth as a result.
Work is about to have an audit of sorts; something called a QSCD. I have no idea what the initials stand for, but in my head it's Quick, Someone Clean that Door. It's basically the most anally retentive inspection of the whole restaurant, done quarterly to make sure that certain standards of health and safety practice are maintained. The General Manager said to me that seeing as I'm headed for the RAAF, I'd probably dig the whole getting ready for QSCD thing, which is about as insane as implying any normal human being derives actual pleasure from establishing and maintaining military levels of cleanliness.
I had a moment of clarity while I was cleaning the toilets at the end of the shift tonight, after reading the incredibly detailed checklist of things to wipe and what chemicals to use where. I tried to think in terms of military clean, and wiped anywhere that I thought I'd inspect if I were employed to scrutinise things QSCD style. I think I actually covered most of the checkpoints that were on the list without having read it first, which I was vaguely impressed by, seeing as I'm sure some of the things I wiped tonight have not been seen to by a cloth since we opened a month ago. The restaurant wasn't completely new then either, so the mind boggles as to how long certain spots have needed the loving of Sparkle, my multi-purpose cleaning friend.
Maybe it was the scent of Sparkle in the air, or the realisation that I wasn't getting paid well enough to detail clean the toilets, but this voice in the back of my head, or perhaps the bottom of my heart, hinted that perhaps this isn't my calling. That it could be possible that I'm just not cut out for scrubbing toilet bowls and attempting to buff brushed metal until it shines, only to be tainted by the next greasy cook's paws on the way through to the changeroom. It seemed so futile, going to all this effort to wipe the pedals on the bins, when they would just get dirty again.
Then, after casually repositioning the bins in their respective corners, I stood up slowly in front of the mirror and a flash of halogen downlight bounced from the tops of the bins and glinted in my eye. I blinked and looked at myself, a clean reflection at five different angles, and knew that it didn't matter how dirty anything was going to get eventually. What mattered was that I knew, in that moment, that everything was as pristine as it could be.
Dust never used to bother me until I heard somewhere that a vast percentage of it in households was actually from dead skin cells, but even then I only dusted my shelves every so often. I used to be a little squeamish about mould on dishes that had been left festering too long, or noticing smells in the kitchen that were organic yet not quite identifiable. Living with guys for most of my life had me in the position where I'd usually be the first person to get annoyed by the grottiness of something, but I must admit that I probably now have a greater tolerance for filth as a result.
Work is about to have an audit of sorts; something called a QSCD. I have no idea what the initials stand for, but in my head it's Quick, Someone Clean that Door. It's basically the most anally retentive inspection of the whole restaurant, done quarterly to make sure that certain standards of health and safety practice are maintained. The General Manager said to me that seeing as I'm headed for the RAAF, I'd probably dig the whole getting ready for QSCD thing, which is about as insane as implying any normal human being derives actual pleasure from establishing and maintaining military levels of cleanliness.
I had a moment of clarity while I was cleaning the toilets at the end of the shift tonight, after reading the incredibly detailed checklist of things to wipe and what chemicals to use where. I tried to think in terms of military clean, and wiped anywhere that I thought I'd inspect if I were employed to scrutinise things QSCD style. I think I actually covered most of the checkpoints that were on the list without having read it first, which I was vaguely impressed by, seeing as I'm sure some of the things I wiped tonight have not been seen to by a cloth since we opened a month ago. The restaurant wasn't completely new then either, so the mind boggles as to how long certain spots have needed the loving of Sparkle, my multi-purpose cleaning friend.
Maybe it was the scent of Sparkle in the air, or the realisation that I wasn't getting paid well enough to detail clean the toilets, but this voice in the back of my head, or perhaps the bottom of my heart, hinted that perhaps this isn't my calling. That it could be possible that I'm just not cut out for scrubbing toilet bowls and attempting to buff brushed metal until it shines, only to be tainted by the next greasy cook's paws on the way through to the changeroom. It seemed so futile, going to all this effort to wipe the pedals on the bins, when they would just get dirty again.
Then, after casually repositioning the bins in their respective corners, I stood up slowly in front of the mirror and a flash of halogen downlight bounced from the tops of the bins and glinted in my eye. I blinked and looked at myself, a clean reflection at five different angles, and knew that it didn't matter how dirty anything was going to get eventually. What mattered was that I knew, in that moment, that everything was as pristine as it could be.
Monday, August 28
let's get physical
I'm pretty glad that due to a couple of medical reports I can't sort out until December or so, I won't be enlisted for another couple of months. I somehow thought that I could cram enough exercise into my life, much like sucking up knowledge during the precious few days of swot vac, but if I were to be completely realistic about physical training, there's no way I'd have been ready for the RAAF in July.
After a brief stint of unemployment and a few days in Sydney, I started going to the gym again for the first time all year. Sure, the whole point of joining in the first place last September(?) was to train up for the RAAF, but I got distracted by the job I originally got to tide me over until enlistment. Strange how that happens, an in-between job becoming the only thing you can think about doing, or manage to do on a regular basis.
Thankfully, the gym wasn't as foreign as I thought it would be when I returned. I'm quietly miffed that apart from dealing with them in January to suspend my membership while I was recovering from surgery, there was no nagging or questioning at all regarding why I hadn't been there in literally months. I wonder what the barcode scanning is actually for, if not to keep stats on my attendance? Surely the elaborate system isn't merely to let members through the turnstiles?
A month of being back at the gym doing cardio and basic weight training had me happy to be there, and I actually discovered the sauna, steam and aromatherapy rooms in the aptly named relaxation zone. Thanks to a relatively convenient work schedule, the in-between job I have at the moment is actually giving me enough time to jump in and out of the gym before as well as during split shifts. In about five or so years of belonging to gyms, I've never actually attended as many times as I have in the past couple months. It's almost strange how quickly I managed to get used to doing so much physical training voluntarily.
Today marks the last day of doing the ADF's four week physical training program. It consists of push ups, sit ups, walking, running and biking, starting off at a basic level of times and reps/sets and building up over each week. I thought I'd forge through it and actually see whether it would improve my fitness over such a short amount of time (the program claims that you can actually get fit enough for the ADF in four weeks), and I'm actually surprised. Getting through each day's designated exercise wasn't so tough I couldn't handle it, but I'm feeling the fittest I've been in a long time, if ever.
I'm going to keep doing the ADF program for another four weeks, with increased speed/levels where I can. I've booked myself three personal training sessions, so hopefully I can get some help with designing a decent weights program. My next pay is going to be lashed out on some hefty boots and a backpack to practice walking in, which should be interesting, considering it's taken me a couple months just to get used to running. I'm enjoying running, even though I'm mighty sick of treadmills... can't wait until the weather gets better and I can take it to the streets.
I keep seeing ads for Fitness First's Boot Camp, which I imagine to be overpriced group fitness training, filled with soft civilians with office jobs, wanting to be pushed beyond their supposed comfort zone. I was thinking about doing it the month before enlistment, but then again, I'm going to have to do boot camp for real, and not have the privilege of paying people to yell at me. Heck, it's probably soft civilians with office jobs that are shelling out the tax that will end up in my pocket after ten weeks of basic training.
After a brief stint of unemployment and a few days in Sydney, I started going to the gym again for the first time all year. Sure, the whole point of joining in the first place last September(?) was to train up for the RAAF, but I got distracted by the job I originally got to tide me over until enlistment. Strange how that happens, an in-between job becoming the only thing you can think about doing, or manage to do on a regular basis.
Thankfully, the gym wasn't as foreign as I thought it would be when I returned. I'm quietly miffed that apart from dealing with them in January to suspend my membership while I was recovering from surgery, there was no nagging or questioning at all regarding why I hadn't been there in literally months. I wonder what the barcode scanning is actually for, if not to keep stats on my attendance? Surely the elaborate system isn't merely to let members through the turnstiles?
A month of being back at the gym doing cardio and basic weight training had me happy to be there, and I actually discovered the sauna, steam and aromatherapy rooms in the aptly named relaxation zone. Thanks to a relatively convenient work schedule, the in-between job I have at the moment is actually giving me enough time to jump in and out of the gym before as well as during split shifts. In about five or so years of belonging to gyms, I've never actually attended as many times as I have in the past couple months. It's almost strange how quickly I managed to get used to doing so much physical training voluntarily.
Today marks the last day of doing the ADF's four week physical training program. It consists of push ups, sit ups, walking, running and biking, starting off at a basic level of times and reps/sets and building up over each week. I thought I'd forge through it and actually see whether it would improve my fitness over such a short amount of time (the program claims that you can actually get fit enough for the ADF in four weeks), and I'm actually surprised. Getting through each day's designated exercise wasn't so tough I couldn't handle it, but I'm feeling the fittest I've been in a long time, if ever.
I'm going to keep doing the ADF program for another four weeks, with increased speed/levels where I can. I've booked myself three personal training sessions, so hopefully I can get some help with designing a decent weights program. My next pay is going to be lashed out on some hefty boots and a backpack to practice walking in, which should be interesting, considering it's taken me a couple months just to get used to running. I'm enjoying running, even though I'm mighty sick of treadmills... can't wait until the weather gets better and I can take it to the streets.
I keep seeing ads for Fitness First's Boot Camp, which I imagine to be overpriced group fitness training, filled with soft civilians with office jobs, wanting to be pushed beyond their supposed comfort zone. I was thinking about doing it the month before enlistment, but then again, I'm going to have to do boot camp for real, and not have the privilege of paying people to yell at me. Heck, it's probably soft civilians with office jobs that are shelling out the tax that will end up in my pocket after ten weeks of basic training.
Sunday, August 20
the end of the middle of the beginning
There was a time, not so long ago, when I thought that my future lay in the wonderful world of IT. I was never really sure where exactly I was headed during let alone after my Multimedia and Telecommunications Engineering degree, and I thought I was happy enough to figure that bit out when the proper time came (read: two weeks after graduation). It turned out that despite having geeky tendencies and inklings of technology induced enjoyment, I discovered some time in fourth year that I wasn't cut out for that world after all.
What I never would have guessed was where I'd end up after scuttling backwards out of my degree. That was the wonderful world of hospitality. Yup, that's right, I'm one of those freaks that scored a second job waiting tables whilst studying and actually ended up enjoying it more than my office job and my course/s. Over the past few years I've rediscovered the joys (and tears) that dealing with all manner of the general public can bring, and I can't picture myself leaving this world.
So I came up with a plan. It sort of came to me in parts a year ago, when I wanted to join the Air Force Reserves as a part time cook, to get my kitchen skills up, get a heck of a lot fitter than I've ever been, and possibly get the chance to travel whilst being funded by taxpayers. I gave up on the Reserves idea for a job that was quicker to hire me, as I was particularly desperate for the money that immediate employment can bring, and the recruitment process (even for Reserves) is quite involved.
With a little more hospitality experience up my sleeve (including a proper taste of kitchen life), and a minor brush with truth, I came up with a better plan. This one came to me while I was recovering from surgery and thinking about what I was going to really do with my life. I've always had an idea in the back of my head to open up a little cafe or bar somewhere, but never really thought about it too long, because it always seemed like one of those faraway dreams. The new plan is to join the Air Force as a full time cook, save up some capital over four to six years, then convince a bank to lend me more dosh for a house and/or business.
It's all well and good to have a clear idea of what I want and a rudimentary grasp of what I need to do to get there, and as exciting as it is having figured out what I'm going to do with myself for the next few years, there's a bazillion steps between where I am now and getting to boot camp, even.
I thought that in the event I do make it as a Leading Airwoman, and then start establishing a little chunk of hospitality on my own, it could make for some interesting writing and/or reading. Heck, if I fail miserably, I could probably salvage a heap of this for my memoirs and make a few bucks selling my story to some crazy publisher.
What I never would have guessed was where I'd end up after scuttling backwards out of my degree. That was the wonderful world of hospitality. Yup, that's right, I'm one of those freaks that scored a second job waiting tables whilst studying and actually ended up enjoying it more than my office job and my course/s. Over the past few years I've rediscovered the joys (and tears) that dealing with all manner of the general public can bring, and I can't picture myself leaving this world.
So I came up with a plan. It sort of came to me in parts a year ago, when I wanted to join the Air Force Reserves as a part time cook, to get my kitchen skills up, get a heck of a lot fitter than I've ever been, and possibly get the chance to travel whilst being funded by taxpayers. I gave up on the Reserves idea for a job that was quicker to hire me, as I was particularly desperate for the money that immediate employment can bring, and the recruitment process (even for Reserves) is quite involved.
With a little more hospitality experience up my sleeve (including a proper taste of kitchen life), and a minor brush with truth, I came up with a better plan. This one came to me while I was recovering from surgery and thinking about what I was going to really do with my life. I've always had an idea in the back of my head to open up a little cafe or bar somewhere, but never really thought about it too long, because it always seemed like one of those faraway dreams. The new plan is to join the Air Force as a full time cook, save up some capital over four to six years, then convince a bank to lend me more dosh for a house and/or business.
It's all well and good to have a clear idea of what I want and a rudimentary grasp of what I need to do to get there, and as exciting as it is having figured out what I'm going to do with myself for the next few years, there's a bazillion steps between where I am now and getting to boot camp, even.
I thought that in the event I do make it as a Leading Airwoman, and then start establishing a little chunk of hospitality on my own, it could make for some interesting writing and/or reading. Heck, if I fail miserably, I could probably salvage a heap of this for my memoirs and make a few bucks selling my story to some crazy publisher.
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