Chapter 7 – Cue the Training Montage

ByHorse Gurl

April 11, 2024

If this was a movie, this would be the part where the music starts and you see Sylvester Stallone doing hill runs and one armed push ups.

That’s right folks, it was time for rubber to hit the road because I was entered for Gisborne Pony Clubs Horse Trials… In the lowest grade, amongst the 8 year olds but nonetheless I was punching the air because it was even a possibility.

There were a just a few small speed bumps to contend with first…

You see – despite recently making such a huge mental shift with my riding, I was still lugging around 3 oversized units of toxic baggage… being smoking, drinking and obesity.

Because as it turns out – it wasn’t only Shady who’s weight had ballooned while we yawned and stood still for the last few years – I had porked up too.

Not one to limit over indulgence to just one area of my life, I had been gradually increasing my alcohol consumption to unhealthy levels since my mid 20s… and I was smoking, well because it went hand in hand with drinking and I’d always planned to kick it before my next birthday anyway 😳

Judge away… I understand.

Not pregnant and have never had a child.. That’s all burger baby in there 🍔👌

So for the seventy seventh time in my life, I signed up for a gym membership and announced it was time for a health kick.

And weirdly, thankfully this time was different…

Because until then, I’d only ever managed short term bursts of motivation. About once a year, give or take, I’d sign up to the gym or some kind of program, be it Michelle Bridges, hot yoga, the works… I’ve given them all a crack.

However, invariably I’d reach the 6 week mark and run out of motivation.

The difference that time round, I’ve since realised, is that my motivation had nothing to do with aesthetics.

In the past, the kick I needed to get off the couch could be narrowed down to a few key triggers. They would invariably be because I was rebounding from a boyfriend, endeavouring to secure a boyfriend or just some good old self hate 🤷‍♀️

Either way it always revolved around revulsion at my own dimply thighs, double chin and waistline.

But this time round, my motivation was performance based – which, as it turns out, is a much sounder reason than doing it for prettiness purposes.

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Ever since I actually started riding again, I realised that being fat and unfit it wasn’t much fun for me; much less for the horse.

And while I don’t want to say ‘I was just sitting there’ because that’s pretty much the most heinous sentence you can say to an equestrian, I kinda was…

While Shady was doing the heavy lifting (in more ways than one), I was just sitting astride him and even that was exhausting. Honestly, it would only take two, maybe three circles and I would be heaving like someone who’d sprinted up a sand dune.

And even though Sandpaper graciously peppered my lessons with ‘walk breaks’ I would still blow like a beluga whale…. so I knew something had to change.

Albeit, being a lifelong lazy person who’s always loved to take the easy way out, for a few weeks I tried to convince myself that riding alone would be enough to improve my fitness.

But it was not.

One afternoon after a particularly challenging lesson where I’d been practicing my cantering skills, I realised that if I could barely manage a few laps of the arena – then there was no way I would make it around an entire cross country course.

And as my imagination began to run away with me, I realised that there would be nothing more humiliating than having to retire due to rider fatigue.

Nothing.

I reconciled that if I was too unfit to be carried around a cross country course, then I would never, ever recover from the shame.

And with that threat hanging over my head – I couldn’t get to the gym fast enough.

So off I went.

Every morning at stupid o’clock I’d be on those damn cardio machines, with my K-mart tights fraying in the crotch, sweating up a storm.

And it didn’t take long for me to realise that smoking was only making this torturous running even harder… and that my night time wines were just replacing every single hard earned calorie I was sweating out.

And no, I’m not going to pretend that I mustered some kind of super human effort and instantly banished my addictions in one go.

No ma’am.

It was more like a gentle trickle of reinforcement that just kept tapping me on the shoulder saying “Remember you’ve gotta ride Cross Country soon…”

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before I quit smoking for good and these days I drink much less (and never to obliteration)…. Mainly because even one alcoholic drink has a notable effect on the next day’s ability to ‘just get on with it’

When it came to smoking (a heinous habit I’d picked up as a teen and never quite managed to quit like my friends did), in past I’d tried patches, gum and hypnotherapy- all to no avail but weirdly it was just good, old fashioned willpower that turned it all around.

Though I must admit that giving the credit to willpower is the least popular answer whenever people ask.

Like everyone else I’d always been looking for a secret hack to put down the pack – but it turns out there is none, I just wanted something more than I wanted to smoke this time round.

So when the cravings would arise I would think about whether I really wanted that cigarette, or whether instead I wanted to be capable of getting around a cross country course 🤷‍♀️

It was a no brainer.

This is coming from someone who used to mercilessly mock people who posted gym selfies 😒

[An aside… I have ummed and ahhed about whether to include the below section. Part of me thinks it’s a bit lame and preachy… but the other part of me wishes I had done this years ago… and it might help someone. So read on at your own risk]

When it comes down to the nuts and bolts of to sticking to a fitness regime, this is I realised:

  1. It’s mental health medicine

If was ever on the receiving end of a mopey mood, exercise was the fastest fix. No word of a lie, once my face started dripping with sweat my brain would instantly feel better.

On the flip side…if I was mopey and stayed in bed (or on the couch)– it was guaranteed to get worse and often spiralled into a pretty crappy day.

So with psychological qualifications numbering zero, I can say that a good sweat is a bloody good antidepressant.

  1. Skincare

Speaking of sweat, my face benefits no end from getting rinsed from the inside out. I’m totally convinced that it’s a much better cleanse than overpriced product will ever manage.

Just a note with the above points, don’t kid yourself that a walk will do the same thing. You need to get proper schweddy for the magic to happen.

  1. Improved Capability

As any career fatty knows, the idea of walking up a steep hill or tackling a set of steps can give you huffy puffy anxiety so it became a pretty cool source of comfort to know that pretty soon I could stomp around with no fear of inclines.

In addition, I started lifting weights and there’s something incredibly empowering about being able to lift heavy things 💪

  1. You’ve just gotta get on with it… And I chose running.

I was one of those people that decided I had the wrong body type for running (ha, denial much?) so therefore should only do walking and perhaps yoga.

I also held on tightly to the notion that horse riding was a form of exercise in itself and my huffing and puffing could be included in the calories in, calories out equation.

The reality is I needed REAL, dedicated exercise… not incidental stuff that just happened during the day.

So fter I peeled back that layer of delusion, I started with a running app called Couch to 5k (there are free & paid versions in the app store).

It was actually really ‘doable’ transition and weirdly, it was honestly much easier than I expected.

  1. Get up early and go

For me & probably most people – the longer my day progresses, the more things come up.

BUT if I got up early and exercised, the only thing I was competing with is more sleep. Which, even though it seems tempting (especially in the 2 degrees of Victorian winters) – was easier than competing with all the things that popped up later.

And on the mornings when it really did seem too tough, i’d say to myself “Get dressed and put your sneakers on – and if you still hate the idea, you can just sit on the couch” which of course magically never happened.

  1. Catastrophising the bad days

Some days I’d be weak and flakey & that’s was ok.

Sometimes I’d feel like a super hero and that was also ok. Some mornings the minutes would drag and other times it was a breeze.

Whatever happened, I just kept chugging.

I figured that even if I just did 10 or 15 minutes some mornings that was perfectly fine.

I learned not to give myself grief on the lacklustre days because in the past – what usually followed grief was the give-ups – and I was too invested this time round.

  1. Inflight entertainment

I kept the monotonous drag of cardio engaging by mixing up my entertainment.

I’d cycle between music, podcasts and online courses. But some mornings, for an unexpected change – I’d do nothing except for daydream.

At first the idea of not having something to distract me freaked me out… but every now and then I loved listening to nothing so I could dine out on daydreaming.

I reckon us adults forget how much fun it is to slip away into a world of make believe… it’s like fun meditating.

You should try it 👊

  1. Pump your own tyres up

Once I started getting fit, I cared much less about being fat. Seriously.

Suddenly being stronger or faster or sweatier meant a whole lot more what I weighed or the clothes I could wear. I’d notice cool things like muscles I didn’t know existed and how I’d feel strong instead of stuffed when I’d do physical work around the farm.

I’m sure that if my focus was fixated on my appearance, I’d never quite be happy but there’s an inherent satisfaction with feeling strong and capable and fit.

That’s the ‘fit’ version of me on the right (sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’re using Posh Spice as a reference point)

Within a few weeks of being a gym bunny there was a notable different in my ability in the saddle too.

My balance was significantly better and I felt so much stronger and secure. I stopped blowing like a baluga whale and was able to thoroughly concentrate for my entire riding lessons instead of being distracted that I was going to drop dead from a heart attack.

With this strength and security came added confidence. and it wasn’t long til I was doing ‘fitness work’ up and down hills to prepare for the upcoming competition.

So now that side of it was ticking along nicely- it was time to get the next stage of preparation underway.

Next up, I needed to see how my neurotic nincompoop of a horse was going to handle a competition environment…

Read Chapter 8 Here: The Horse Show for Grown Ups

If you’ve missed any – you can see the full chapter list here https://horsegurl.com.au/category/tales-of-a-terrible-equestrian/

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