Months of Muscles: The strongest muscle

1985 was the year of my HSC and, having given myself an almost impossible goal, I studied every night and every weekend, for eleven months. **  Which meant that the Summer of 1985/86 was the summer to break free,  the summer of beaches, parties and pubs. It was the summer I first saw a friend topless sun bathing ***, the summer I had my license and could drive anywhere I bloody wanted, and the summer I kissed a boy, even though I had a boyfriend.

My then boyfriend was the non-dancing type, and I swear I have a memory of him wearing a cap rigged up with its own drink holder and straw that connected  two UDL cans of Jack Daniels and Coke to Marie Bell's 18th ****. This new boy was a dancer, and boy, did we dance. I can still smell his cologne, feel his arm around my waste as we danced to Mental as Anything's 'Live it up' and see his feet jiving to 'Wake Me up Before you Go, Go'.

The inevitable kiss (well, more of a snog really) happened the night after we'd been to see Pat Drummond at the Pennant Hill's pub, where (not that this was any excuse) I had been drinking Tia -Maria and milk all night. He drove me home. I knew what was about to happen, Mount Colah was about 10km off the direct route between Pennant Hill and his home in West Pymble. He was driving me home with purpose.

The Eurythmic's Must be Talkin' to an Angel was playing on the radio as he leant in to kiss me, and, as the song was finishing, he whispered in my ear 'must be an angel' and I never felt more desirable.

The next day I woke up sick to my stomach, I just wasn't the cheating kind of a girl, and, even though we vowed to still be friends, we stopped seeing each other.

The heart is nothing but a simple muscle, but like any muscle it can be trained, get stronger and weaker, and like any muscle exercising it lays down memories and, even 25 years later, I only have to hear one song to feel his breath on my ear ... 'Must be an angel'.



** I missed that goal (UTS communications) by some marks, but if I hadn't missed it I wouldn't have met my first husband, and wouldn't now be seeing my amazing girl through her HSC. It's strange the way life works out.

*** Sandie Flynn - you were such a rebel

**** This picture is from the patent application for the hat which was granted in, you guessed it, 1985

Months of Muscles: A compelling goal

I've been going to the gym for years and getting, well ... nowhere really. Sure, I was relatively fit and healthy for my age but if you'd asked what I got from all of the hours I spent in gyms I would not have been able to answer.

It was only when I took my first round of Michelle Bridges 12 week body transformation that I realised the importance of having a goal. It's the great motivator. During all those wretched hours spent training and eating right you can visualise yourself achieving your goal and it really gets you through. And then, once you reach the goal, you get to celebrate it, and look back at how far you've come, and there is a sense of empowerment in that.

For many people weight loss is a great goal because it is simple and it is measurable, but what happens when you don't want or need to loose weight.

Last round of the 12 week body transformation I had the half-marathon to get me through, but during the Months of Muscles finding a goal that is strong and compelling enough to sustain me through 12 weeks of hard work and consistent eating has proven to be more difficult.

One of my main motivators is the bikini, but it turns out that it's not quite compelling because I just don't care enough with what other people think of me**. Another is to climb the overhang at indoor climbing, which was fine, until I reached that goal in the first four weeks of the program.  Seeing the weights I can lift go up,  some abs peaking through and being able to do three whole chin ups is probably reward enough to keep me going for a while, but is nowhere near the driver that the half marathon was.

Some people doing the program have been complaining about losing their mojo, and I guess I can see that if I don't reassess my goals in the next week or two that I'll be in the situation too. After all mojo is just a cooler word for drive, and how are you going to drive if you don't know the direction you're headed.

** Although I have heightened the goal somewhat by committing that I will attend the finale party in my bikini (gulp)

Months of Muscle: Obsession is not always our friend

So, I'm happy to admit I have somewhat of an obsessive personality. This has been so helpful and useful in my life. It has helped me save a school.**, run a half marathon, and brought me career success. In short, it has driven me, whilst not always to excellence, to accomplish so many things.


But 'all or nothing' is not a very balanced way to live and by slowing down a bit during the month of muscle I've come to realise that this all-encompassing focus and determination is not always my friend. When you wear the blinkers of obsession and focus you can sometimes miss out on some pretty exciting stuff going on to the left or right of you. 


One of the things I am learning this round of Michelle Bridges 12 week body training is to take it a bit easier. ***  I am learning to accept that the ups and downs, the good days and the not so great,  are all part of the journey. The journey is never a straight line, but a winding path but maybe that winding path is OK, because it will take me to places I never see if I hadn't wandered along it. The most important tool to me you get there is patience. I write it like I know it and practice it, but it's a hard lesson to learn. Meanwhile - I'll stay positive and have faith that I'll get where I want - or at maybe even somewhere else that is equally as interesting.




** It took number of years, special protests, parliamentary inquiries, petitions, letterbox drops and eventually the support of radio shock jock Alan Jones , for a group of parents and community supporters to save that school. I remember being up until midnight preparing submissions and presentations. I have a very clear memory of a friend picking her sleeping eight year old from our sofa and carrying her home at one in the morning. 


*** I lied, I am TRYING to learn this, but got somewhat derailed by a triathlon on the way. 

Months of Muscle: The triathlon

I remember the night before the half-marathon. I tossed and turned all night and when I did sleep I dreamed of the race (actually of not making the race). I wondered at the time why I bothered to put myself under such unnecessary stress and vowed never to do it again!

Which is why when the opportunity came up I jumped at the chance of participating in a triathlon.

I have less than two weeks to prepare. I haven't run since the half-marathon. I haven't swam for more than two years. I haven't ridden since I was about 12. My only access to a bike is my daughter's already second- hand mountain bike.

Not to mention that the triathlon breaks all the Month of Muscle no cardio rules.

But I just couldn't help it ... it was a challenge and I had to take it up.

No doubt, the night before I'll be tossing and turning again. But then something (past experience) tells me that when I cross that finish line it will be worth it.

Now let me see if I can still ride ... I've been told it's just like riding a bike ...

Months of Muscle: My father's arms

My father had strong, golden arms. Taut forearms that expanded as they grasped a saw, or reefed in a halyard. Rounded shoulders that filled his tailor made suits as he kissed ** my mother goodbye at the bottom of the stairs at 7.20 every weekday morning. Large safe hands that grasped the bowl of his pipe in one hand and the steering wheel with the other as we sprinted from scenic lookout to scenic lookout on our annual two-week driving holiday. Biceps that could lift me effortlessly up onto his shoulders during a family bush walk. They were muscles honed from building a boat, hammering up the wooden frame, sanding back the fibreglass.

These were not arms built in the gym. They were built in the workshop and the garden, built from raising three children, from loving a wife, from the struggle of someone, so very much loved, who always had a slight air of discontent about him.

These were the arms that could lift me into the tumble dryer for the ultimate game of hide and seek.***;  the hands that were sent, reluctantly, to discipline us; the arms that grasped the rudder, steering us safely through a storm while my mother vomited nervously off the side of the boat and I slept unknowingly below.

My dad is older now, and very much changed, smaller but no less diminished,  less muscular but just as strong.



** Actually it was more a pash than a kiss, given with the force and passion of someone who might be leaving for nine months, not just nine hours.

*** We were a close but odd family. It wasn't unusual for my siblings to find me hidden in the most obscure of spots. None-the-less I think we had a relationship with our father that was envied by the other children. In a time where women did the child rearing and men 'brought home the bacon', my friends  would line up to be tickled by him (which you could do then, but wouldn't dare do now).

Months of Muscle: Blame the bikini

In the 1960s Emily Post decreed, "A bikini is for perfect figures only, and for the very young." 


Now, being on the wrong side of 40, with a build designed to keep the Scottish winters at bay, this, to me, sounds like a challenge! So I have promised my Michelle Bridges Lean and Strong 12 week Body Transformation team mates that I will wear a bikini to the finale party. Oh dear. But I am a person of my word and intend to do just that.


The issue is of course, and I am not alone in this, that 18 years ago I had a child, and it seems quite likely that that skin once stretched so much I resembled a whale not a person ** is unlikely to 'spring' back to shape, no matter what the mix of cardio, weights and abs. Still, with role models like Pink, The chic from terminator two and Hale Berry as role models, my team mates and I are giving it a try.


We're watching what we eat (limit alcohol and sugars, increase protein) pumping iron and, most of all, working those abs. We have faith that, no matter what, there will be some change.


And if it doesn't work, well maybe it is time for us (or at least those attending the finale party) to change our idea of perfection. 


** Some women glow when they are pregnant. If I glowed it must have had a sour green tinge to it as I spent the first six months of my pregnancy overwhelmed by a feeling of seasickness.