Hit your New Year resolution
The Body Weight Conditioning system is essentially about training hard, eating well and having fun with new people. But you will also learn new fitness and nutrition habits that will transform your life – Overcome physical or mental challenges and push yourself way beyond your limitations!
BWC is all about working hard, but sticking to your own pace with a plan to get the results you want.
Times and venues to suit your schedule starting 6th of January
Monday’s 6.30am Outdoors in Paignton
Wednesday’s 7.00pm Indoors in Torquay
Thursday’s 7.00 pm Indoors in Ipplepen
Friday’s 6.30am Outdoors in Totnes
Sunday’s 9.00am Various outdoor locations including Dartmoor
What BWC did for me:
“I never thought that I would look forward to Monday mornings, or that training on the beach at 6.30 am could be so much fun. I feel that the 6 weeks of boot camp has gone a long way to improving my fitness.” SWL
“A top-quality personalised workout with good company and fabulous surroundings. It’ll really set you up for the week!” GH
“BWC is a fantastic way to start the day. I can’t say that I’ve always felt like getting up so early in the morning but I’ve always enjoyed it when I got there and been glad that I’ve gone. The training is a definite help in my bid to tone up and improve general fitness.” HHY
Complete Body Workout, Increase Heart Efficiency, Increase Lung Efficiency, Increase Strength, Decrease Blood Pressure, Lower Cholesterol, Reduce Fat, Increase Endurance, Reduce Risk of Injury, Increase Suppleness, Improve Posture, Reduce Rick of Osteoporosis, Improve Confidence, Decrease Stress, Tailored for You, Fun and Sociable, Improves Muscle Definition, Innovative and Challenging, Toning and Burn Calories.
GUY HENDERSON: All too willing to do as we’re told
By Herald Express | Posted: December 27, 2012
WE are all creatures of free will, are we not? We can make up our own minds and exercise due caution when faced with situations which might prove uncomfortable, painful or even downright dangerous.
We can, in those cases, exercise our rights to simply say no.
So why, dear readers, did I find myself the other Saturday lunchtime, flat on my back in a freezing puddle of water in the shadow of a granite Dartmoor tor, attempting to force my torso up off the ground for what I believe is popularly known as a sit-up.
I didn’t have to be there. And, having got there, I didn’t have to obey the instruction to get down on my back and do 20 sit-ups, or ‘crunchies’ as they are called when the aim is to raise the legs at the same time.
But because a man I know only as ‘Flasher’ told me to do it, I duly did it. There are pictures on Facebook which show me performing what I have to say is a textbook ‘crunchie’ and smiling while doing it.
At least it looks like a smile. It may be a grimace of pain or a reaction to trapped wind.
Whatever, I did it. I then rolled over, flat on my face, and did some press-ups and various other exercises as ordered by the ferocious Flasher. It was freezing cold, wet and windy in the mossy hollows between Haytor and Saddle Tor.
At one point, again at the behest of Flasher, I performed something called a ‘plank’, which involves lying face down and then lifting yourself up so that only your forearms and your toes are on the ground. You then hold this ‘plank’ position, with your back (theoretically) ramrod straight, for a specified length of time, until told to relax.
I held the plank pretty well, although at one point noticed that my forearms were actually sinking into the soft and peaty turf, with icy cold, clear, Dartmoor water bubbling up to lap at my elbows.
I was, remember, doing all of this of my own free will.
It reminded me of a time during the annual Royal Marines Commando Challenge when we found ourselves somewhere in the middle of Woodbury Common, coming towards the end of the famous Marines outdoor assault course.
We had been through the watery tunnel they call the Sheep Dip, burrowed through the claustrophobic underground pipes and waded chest deep through the murky waters of Peter’s Pool.
We had successfully climbed the steep slope carved out of thick, black mud and torn our ankles to ribbons on gorse bushes.
We were nearly home when we arrived at a final obstacle, a broad, long, calf-deep pool of mud, this time the red Devonshire kind, lapping at the sides like melted chocolate.
We leapt in and began to make our way across, triumphant in the knowledge that after this mud pool, only a gentle downhill run back to base separated us from the finish of another successful challenge.
Suddenly there appeared before us a Royal Marine in full battle dress. No speck of mud dared to stain the uniform of this iron man. Mud fled at the sight of his might.
“You lot!” he barked.
“Do you mean us, my good man?” I asked in my best Sergeant Wilson voice, from a face caked in hardening mud.
“Yes, you!” he roared. “You’re nowhere near dirty enough. You look as if you haven’t done any work at all.
“Get down in the mud and give me 20 press-ups!”
Now, bear in mind here that we were not Royal Marines, and therefore not under his jurisdiction in any way at this time. Moreover, we had paid an entry fee for the privilege of rolling around in the mud and water of his assault course.
We would, I now think, have been perfectly within our rights to have declined his request and instead asked him if he would mind awfully giving us a towel down and a lift back to Bicton.
So, in the face of a quite unreasonable order being barked at us by someone with absolutely no authority to give it, what did we do?
We were elbow-deep in the mud and mid-way through our tenth press-up before anyone even said: “Hang on a minute. Why are we doing this?”
It is amazing what people will do if you ask them nicely.
Last Thursday night, for instance, I asked my fellow members of South Devon Athletic Club to leave their normal running kit at home for their weekly training session.
Instead, as it was the last Thursday before Christmas, we would be running around the streets admiring the festive lights on the houses of Paignton. And, in keeping with a club tradition, would they mind awfully wearing the most extravagant Father Christmas outfits they could lay their hands on?
Of course, they could have said no. They are all creatures of free will, and would have been perfectly at liberty to tell me to take a running jump.
But in all, there were 55 Santas, elves and fairies on the streets of Paignton last Thursday night. If you were one of the drivers who saw us and gave us a toot on your car horns, Merry Christmas and thank you. It made it all worthwhile.
Fifty-five Santas….it wasn’t half festive. It’s amazing what people will do if you ask them nicely!
Happy New Year to you all, and may 2013 bring you health, happiness and a good laugh, often.
THE man they call Flasher holds his outdoor circuit training sessions every Sunday morning, and if you want to know more, find a page called ‘Get Sweaty’ on Facebook for the times and places where people can be found, allowing their free will to be trodden into the peaty soil in the name of fun and fitness.