On Monday, I really pushed my kids during conditioning and while they ran hard, I'm sure they were angry about how I kept making them run more. But I really want them to get strong.
Last night, I got some insight into how they must've felt when I was working out with Jason. We had a good workout and we moved to the last excercise with which we usually finish our back workout, a type of single-armed upright row (hard to explain, it's a funky looking machine). After the first set I thought we might be done, but Jason (who goes first) got back on the machine for another set. After that set he told me to go fast, not taking a rest between sets. So we kept rotating back and forth, sets of 10 on each side without a rest between. Each time he sat down for another set, I got more frustrated, wondering when in the world we'd be done. After several painful sets, he threw another 45 pound plate on each side. I couldn't believe it and I was really angry about it.
We'd been doing sets of 1o and I figured I'd only do 6 or so with all the extra weight. But when I positioned myself for the final set, I blew a fuse emotionally. The frustration of not wanting to work out so hard (I am naturally lazy) and all the anxiety and frusration I've been experiencing the last couple weeks just exploded inside of me and I went crazy. I did a full 10 reps (as many as Jason - who is much bigger) and then did an additional two. When I switched to the left side (weaker side) I pumped out 6, took a deep breath and blew out 6 more. During the last 6 I was grunting, yelling and almost crying as I let out all kinds of frustration.
When I finished, Jason looked at me and asked, "did you get it all out?" I answered, "I hope so." I was shocked that my frustration was so obvious.