The continuing saga of Ambrose the fascist.

[tyggerjai]

So I'm sticking with Ambrose, once a week, wednesdays at 6.



Today, we did not do weights. This is disappointing, because, of course, I can do them far better than this time last week. Today, and for the next little while, we do circuit training. I get the feeling Ambrose is making it up as he goes along, but he's young. He'll learn :) I remember when I started teaching ballroom dancing, and having the more astute of my students trap me in contradictions because I myself had learnt in the last week that the way I'd originally taught them was good enougb, but not quite right....
Anyway. Circuit training.
First circuit: 10 Pushups (we started with inclined, but they were "too easy", so we (ha. We.) were doing them flat for the second time through), sprint up and down a flight of stairs, 10 frog jumps, 25 ab crunches. Rinse, lather repeat, but 15/15 for the pushups and jumps. Rinse lather repeat at 10 again.

Rest: stand up (no lying down - rest standing up), drink, vomit.

Second circuit: Lie on a big fitness ball, face down. Lift Fucking Big Dumbbells up around the ball. This is hard to describe, but basically it's the same action as a pushup, but you're pulling the dumbbells up, not going down to the floor. Ten times, for the first set. Then ten stepups, with a medicine ball above the head. Ten triceps pushups on the edge of the step ( hands on the edge of the step, facing away from the step with feet on the ground, lower your arse towards the ground, then push back up). 20 medicine ball twists - sit on the floor, knees bent, elbows by your side and forearms parallell to the ground holding a medicine ball. Rotate the upper torso side to side, without moving the hips/lower torso or the head/neck. Again, do the set three times, 10/15/10 reps of the hard stuff.

I only did the second circuit twice today. It is lucky for both Ambrose and myself that he realises the difference between "Nooo! I'll die!", (to which the response is "Nah! You're doing well! Keep going!", and "Nooo! I'll vomit!" to which the response is "Oh. Well, ok, relax, and we'll do our stretches.". I really think I would have made a nasty mess :)

But, in all, I feel good. I was in agony for days after last weeks weights session, but I do feel much stronger for it. Ambrose reckons I can do the circuit instead of the weights, since it has bicep/tricep work, but I think I'll sneak in a couple of sessions of weights as well, maybe on the weekends. Otherwise I'll never look like Vin!

And there's something wrong with my wiring, somewhere. When we were stretching, he did my arms, by getting me to put my hands behind my head, and then pulling back on me elbows. Excruciating. But so, so sweetly familiar from other contexts that I almost had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying "Thank you, Master.". It's all pain, after all...



Oh, and this morning, when I got up, my legs decided I could do whatever I liked, but they weren't riding to work. Nope. Since it's actually faster to ride than get the bus, and since I hadn't left myself enough time to get the bus, this was something of a problem, so I had to assert my dominance, and remind them that actually they worked for me, and I wasn't going to take no shit from appendages that didn't even have opposable digits. So we rode. Just. The Big Arse Hill on Canning/Barkly St (I go down Johnston, and veer off on the Nicholson/Johnston corner up towards the Exhibition building, which gives me a big hill on the final approach to the gardens there, up Barkly) has been getting easier, but today it was hell. But I did it, and I feel so proud. We be getting buff!

sol.
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Comments

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

It's all pain, after all...

A Grammarian, and a pervert?

I am SHOCKED. Shocked, I say.

Yeah, funny that.

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

Actually, there are so many stories behind that it's not funny.

It's ... wierd. And yeah, I guess that's where it started, but it's impossible to say I wouldn't be a pervert anyway. My memories of being beaten up by other boys - my current housemates brother among them - aren't actually pleasant, and certainly don't arouse me. But there was a certain ... pride in being able to take it, which has carried through into my sex life.

And, y'know, I turned out not to be gay, so I could have avoided it all. Except that it taught me that having the crap beaten out of you constantly, and copping abuse from the overwhelming majority of your peer group ( and teachers) for literally *years* will not kill you and should not therefore prevent you from saying "Fuck you, this is who I am.". And if *that* can't stop you, well, nothing can.

Which is about the most valuable thing I ever learned.

sol.
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Now that I think about it ...

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

And stop me if this is TMI, but I think you've brought me to a realisation. It's not so much the pain, as the pride in being able to take it. Even with Lisa, it wasn't the pain, but winning her approval for being able to take it.

On so many levels, not just the physical. Hm.

sol.
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Re: Now that I think about it ...

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

Man. And now that I *really* think about it, this makes a lot of sense. Because I can also now track the success of my current relationship back to pretty much burning out on emotional pain shortly before hand. Which pretty much got me over the "I can take it" thing and into "Y'know, fuck it, I think I'm over it.". So I found a pain-free relationship, and didn't feel the need to fill it with pain to show how strong I was.

Hm.

Thanks :)

sol.
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Re: Now that I think about it ...

[qamar.livejournal.com]

So, now you just need to find a personal trainer with pain-free workouts.... HA! Hahaha! Not gonna happen. Nope, this fitness thing is a relationship built on the promise of post-sex (workout) endorphins for your pain. Oh, also a promise of less future pain. I think that's a good bit.

Unlike a romantic relationship founded on pain as a principle of its continuence, a personal trainer relationship is based on the principle that small doses of pain in the beginning will slowly make you immune to it's devastating attacks. Like building immunity to some nasty disease like smallpox.

E.g. Like the fact I can jog up the Lexington/51st street subway escalator (something long like parliament station) and not faint at the other end and still have my breath. That's friggin cool and makes me more like a super hero and less like a fatty.

Re: Now that I think about it ...

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

And to think I was just trying for cheap laughs ;-)

Though I guess I was half-serious. CGS certainly did a lot to shape me.

For me, most of the physical bullying stopped in year 7, shortly after I learnt to eye-gouge. Most of what I got was mental, and a lot of it came from the staff. There were one or two who had it in for me, for reasons I still don't understand... but in hindsight, the worst of all were the ones who put on a friendly face and wouldn't lift a finger to fix things.

Funny thing is, by the time I reached year 12 - which is when some of the most malicious things happened - it wasn't a problem any more. Somewhere along the line I'd figured out that the only real power these people had over me was what I let them have. When I realised there was no good reason to respect them any more, no reason to care what they thought of me, that power just evaporated. For me it wasn't a matter of "I can take this", but "This is meaningless".

And I got my little victory in the end. At the Leavers' Dinner, Tim Murray did his best to publicly embarrass me in front of classmates, teachers, and parents - have I told you that story? - and I just smiled and walked away.

I wonder if all that has shaped my sex life. Certainly that understanding of power and authority makes a big difference to how I deal with people... hmm. Maybe that's why I'm a dom?

But I have no explanation for how I ended up married to Jim Windeyer's cousin ;-)

Re: Now that I think about it ...

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

I don't remember many of the staff. Actually, I've treid not to remember much about any of it, and, of course, Narrabundah College was such a fantastic experience that it's largely eclipsed any memories of grammar. It's more ... feelings, and moments. And the physical beatings didn't stop for me. Ah, actually, I lie. When I went to the states for 6 months, and came back with a mohawk and scary punk friends, I think they stopped. But I was gone to Narrabundah 6 months after that anyway. But yeah, even the physical stuff became trivial - "Well, if it makes you feel like a man to hit me, go ahead, but I'll have the last laugh.".
*shrug*

I haven't heard your Tim Murray story, no. He was a right cunt, in hindsight.

sol.
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Re: Now that I think about it ...

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

I had several friends who were 'nudged' into moving to Narrabundah after Year 10. One of them was a really lovely guy who somehow got labelled as being bad at maths (he wasn't - he had problems with dyslexia, but by that point he was starting to deal with it). Enthusiastic, friendly, hard-working, all the things the school claimed to value, but they thought he was going to hurt their TER stats... so they squeezed, and squeezed, until he gave up. Still angry about that, and by no means the only time Grammar dumped their perceived 'problem students' on the public system instead of trying to help them.

Now, the Tim Murray incident...

I was a high achiever in maths and science. I used to win a lot of prizes in various academic competitions. Some of those ended up being presented in assembly. A lot of them, I later found, sat in Rob Welsh's drawer for years on end because TM wasn't interested in presenting them - he'd thrown me a few bones, that ought to be enough for me - and Rob was hoping he'd change his mind.

Anyway, come the year twelve Leavers' Dinner, they were handing out School Colours, which were very important to those who gave a damn. Tim announced the first one, I think it was for rugby. The recipient walked up the left-hand side of the stage, shook with his right hand while taking the Colours tie with his left, and then walked off down the right-hand side of the stage. Standard CGS prize-giving drill, by then, we all knew it by heart.

They gave out a couple of others, and then there was one for my friend Robin, for Science. Same deal, he walked up the left-hand-side, take with the left and shake with the right, walked down the right-hand side.

Then Tim read out my name, for Mathematics. I walked up the left-hand side of the stage, took the tie, held out my right hand to shake his... and his right hand stayed by his side, leaving me waiting there, in front of a hundred-odd fellow Year 12s and assorted teachers and parents. I held out my hand long enough to be sure he hadn't just forgotten to shake, and for the audience to know the same thing, and then I walked off to the right.

Then, just as I was walking down the stairs, he read my name out again, for Science colours. I'm not sure, but I think he was trying one last time to rattle me by making me rush around the front of the stage. Instead I just turned around and went the wrong way.

I'm still not entirely sure what that was all about. A couple of the staff told me afterwards, in private, that he hadn't wanted to give me Science colours and that my teachers had insisted on it, which might have been why he was feeling unfriendly... but you know how smarmy the man was. No matter what he was up to, he was always careful to keep up the charm in public. It's the only time I ever saw the mask slip, and by what people said to me afterwards most of the audience were as surprised as I was.

Going to the ten-year reunion was rather disconcerting. Many of the teachers I'd liked were there, looking well. A couple of the bastards were there, looking very old. I asked after Tim Murray, and they told me he'd developed a crippling inner-ear condition that keeps him virtually housebound these days. It's not something I would have wished on him, but it was odd to see the way things worked out for them all.

Re: Now that I think about it ...

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

*nodnod*
I wasn't exactly squeezed out - I fought tooth and nail to get out and the end of year ten - but part of that was making damn sure that they would have thrown me out if my father hadn't agreed to let me go to Bundah. And in hindsight, I should have left earlier, but I'd been at Grammar since 1st grade, so I had no basis for comparison. When I went overseas for six mohnths, and realised just how much I enjoyed the non-Grammar environment, there was no way I could have stayed.

IF you copped so much flak, why did you stay? The flask was water off a ducks back anyway, and Grammar did have advantages over the state colleges?

And yeah, smarmy is exactly the word. Big Jim was hard, but you always knew where you stood, and he was, by his own lights (and those of the school) fair. My father and I were discussing my time at Grammar recently, and I found myself defending Big Jim for his keeness for rugger and Cadets, on the grounds that, well, it's a private boys school modelled on the British Public Schools system. Surely rugger and cadets is what it's all about? :)

sol.
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Re: Now that I think about it ...

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

IF you copped so much flak, why did you stay? The flask was water off a ducks back anyway, and Grammar did have advantages over the state colleges?

I didn't make friends easily, so I was reluctant to change schools - especially around year 8-9, when I was most miserable. Much like you, I had no basis for comparison; possibly I would've been happier at another school if I'd changed early on, but I didn't know enough to make the leap.

And yes, there were good things. The Maths department were excellent, and that was my great passion. Science was a mixture of excellent and terrible, and English was pretty good. But not wanting to destroy what social network I had was the main thing; I'd been at Grammar since kindergarten.

Re: Now that I think about it ...

[tyggerjai.livejournal.com]

*nodnod*
It locks you in, doesn't it?

I was "lucky", in that I had precious little social network to start with, and the few friends I did have at Grammar (well, one, in hindsight) were also going to Bundah. And, of course, year 11 is by far the easiest time to switch in Canberra - when I got to Bundah there were obviously a few cliques of people who'd been to High school together, but they were also looking forward to meeting strangers from other schools.

sol.
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Re: Now that I think about it ...

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

And, of course, year 11 is by far the easiest time to switch in Canberra

Yup. By then, things were starting to settle down for me, and I also preferred the HSC system (I work best in short burst, so I prefer exams to continuous assessment).

[ltempt.livejournal.com]

I believe there was a US outfit doing fitness training by some Domme shouting abuse and dispensing public floggings for lack of effort. Apparently it worked.

Re:

[lederhosen.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I saw something about that one a couple of years back. I hear it's very successful :-)