Posts Tagged ‘cardio

12
Nov
13

Team Tiger Saves Balls

DDR5We did it okes. Team Tiger And The Buff Charnas got together for a good cause and ran for our balls at the DAREdevil Run 2013. To all the ous who joined Team Tiger, you charnas are LEGENDS!

In fact, to all the ous who ran the DAREdevil Run in Cape Town, you are the BUFFEST ous in the land. To go out their in a red speedo and run up and down Seapoint promenade getting wolve whistles takes BALLS.

I must say though, the actual RUNNING part was a flippin’ weird sensation for me. After 10 minutes it was like a ou was pouring flippin BATTERY ACID into my legs, yirre!

But anyway, I finished and had a jol whilse raising awareness for cancer and saving my balls and the balls of others. Here are some pics of me and the BUFF ous from TEAM TIGER:

 

 

 

 

 

Big shout out to the event organisers for actually taking a stand for a serious cause instead of just growing a flippin pervert traffic cop moustache on your lip because you’ve always wondered what you’d look like as a pervert traffic cop.

Keep on klapping it okes!

Until next time.

-ST

09
Jan
10

The Saturday Post: 9 Jan ‘10

I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet guys, there’s a whole bunch of stuff we need to get sorted today and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather spend the rest of today with my lady than bashing out another epic post.

All the posts this week have actually been pretty epic. Life just seems really full at the moment, I don’t know if you’re feeling it to, but there’s a buzz in the air this year that I swear is so tangible it feels like my skin is sparking with electricity.

 

 

Of course, that could also be because I’m tearing through the gym these days like a loose propeller. We’re only 9 days into the year and I’ve already clocked 4 sessions. Admittedly, for the first two I was embarrassingly sweaty and red-faced, but once those were out the way, session 3 and 4 already felt better.

I’m lucky to come from a lean gene pool – there is no history of obesity in either my mom or my dad’s side of the family, and as such, I have the metabolism of a race horse. Of course, given another 4 or 5 years I’m sure this will change, but that doesn’t bother me.

Gym is really funny though. I watch other guys in the gym who go wearing their designer Body In Motion gear with all the latest gym accessories money can buy, run for a bit on the treadmill, do a few sets on the machines and go home without breaking a sweat, and I think to myself, Why bother?

I go in loose fitting faded shirts, brown shorts and old Nike shoes, I do cardio until my heart feels like it’s going to explode, catch my breath, and then hit the machines and free weights, working steadily toward that killer burn you start to feel in your muscles that sends endorphins flooding like a capsized oil tanker into your blood.

 

 

And then I go back and do it all over again. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I’m a sucker for punishment.

My goal is 4 sessions a week, every week of this year. If I maintain that and try keep the binge drinking to a minimum, by December I’ll be a fucking MACHINE.

And yes, THEM’S fightin’ words 😉

-ST

30
Dec
09

A Horse With No Name

Maybe you exercise a lot, specifically cardio exercise, or maybe you’re just a person who lives in a lot of pain, I’ve experienced both and what I always found weird about going through a lot of physical pain is that the most random song starts playing in my mind on infinite repeat.

When I woke up from surgery this one time, it was that fucking America song ‘A Horse With No Name’. I swear to god that fucking song played in my mind over and over and over again until I wanted to scream.

For years afterward that song creeped me the fuck out. If I heard it anywhere my eyes would glaze over instantly and I’d be back in high care, grinding my way through it all. It’s not the pain that eats you up, it’s the helplessness.

Now I love that song because it has a special meaning for me. That desert is my desert, that horse with no name, I’ve named it a thousand times.

 

 

Isn’t it strange how dearly you learn to love the things that fucked you up the most?

-ST