As some of you are already aware, I am now about to enter my final week of the Twelve Week Challenge. After falling off the wagon last week, with the much needed help of Miln, I am back on board and ready to kick some of my own arse.
This week I'm hitting the gym hard, and I'm on the strictest diet of all time. Absolutely no oil or fat, no salt or sugar in any form, and 7 litres of water a day. Apart from giving me a bladder like a sieve, this should serve to make me drop those last few kilo's in the next week.
On the fitness front, I have been doing beach sessions with my trainer, and doing roughly 3 hours of cardio a day, along with weights and other resistance training. This gives me roughly 21 hours of training per week - and it is this figure which officially classes me as an Elite Athlete.
That's right people, I am an Elite Athlete.
My trainer explained that anyone who does more than 10 hours of training a week is classed as such, so I'm well above the entry level. It's tough being an Elite Athlete, but hey, I'm tough; I have buns of steel and guns of titanium and I'm willing to bite my own extremely toned arm off to get to where I'm going. Obviously, I don't like to blow my own trumpet - that would be a bit boring and repetitive for you all - BUT if you do want to refer to me as 'The Weapon', well then that's your choice. Also, if you happen to tell your friends about the amazing physical capabilities of 'The Weapon', that's your prerogative too.
My oh my; it's hard being so incredibly physically capable...
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