On the first day of Juneathon, I cycled up Mount Doom

I think it’s fair to say that Juneathon has got off to a fairly extreme start.  As this was originally a festival of running, and given the glorious weather outside today, I couldn’t help wondering whether heading to the basement gym for a spin class was perhaps a bit of a cop out.  It wasn’t.

Raj, the usual Wednesday instructor, is away on holiday and was replaced today by Sauro.  I can only assume that this is short for Sauron, because he was at about the same level on the evil scale as Tolkein’s Dark Lord.  After a brutal warm up he informed us that the session was going to involve “two hills” – each of 13 minutes – and then some intervals.  Those insanely long hills basically went: up, sprint, up, sprint, up some more, sprint some more, forever and ever and ever and ever… I was certainly in as much pain and sweating as much as if I really was on the fiery slopes of Mount Doom.  The intervals were even worse – he kept screaming at us that we weren’t in enough pain and I started to feel quite a sympathetic affinity with the orcs of Mordor.

Fortunately, he let us go after 45 minutes without anyone losing a finger or having to be rescued by an enormous eagle.  It was undoubtedly an effective workout, but I think I’ll be paying for it tomorrow which doesn’t bode well for the 29 days still to come.  I have a feeling that Juneathon is going to hurt more than the marathon.

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About westlondonplodder
Thirty-something London girl looking for the next big challenge

6 Responses to On the first day of Juneathon, I cycled up Mount Doom

  1. To be honest. I’ve never been a fan of the pain/gain brigade. I’m more like,
    “no pain….. … No pain” 🙂

  2. abradypus says:

    I came across a lovely expression: no brain, no gain. It appeals to me far more. Though if pain and screaming muscles are your bag, I hear (from fairweatherrunner) that BMF is the best thing ever.

  3. runtezza says:

    Great post — JRR no doubt spinning in his grave.

  4. Pingback: Blood boiling, but not sweating « West London Plodder

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