Was fitness testing supposed to be all Star Warsy...or was that just me?

Feeling pretty chuffed to be getting fitness tested at PISE...in fact, I was feeling kinda like "ya, that's right...I have yoga pants on...I'm wearing sneakers...I bought a sports bra for the occasion...check me out, I'm all Simon Whitfieldy."  And then I realised that I hadn't been a participant in the Olympics...I had merely watched them on television...but to my credit, Simon Whitfield and I are practically best friends...I once said hello to him at the airport!

After fasting 12 hours the first thing that exercise physiologists Holly and Paula did was ask me to lie down for 30 minutes.  Awesomepants!  That I can do...I'm very good at resting.  Strapped a heart rate monitor around my chest and got comfy on the mat.  After 10 minutes, I was asked to put a snorkel in my mouth (okay, it wasn't a snorkel, it was a mouthpiece attached to a tube attached to a huge machine that analysed my breathing), had a clothes peg put on my nose (again, probably something more scientificy), and told to "relax" and breath normally.  Easier said than done, after just a few minutes I had the worst case of dry mouth EVER.  I persevered, and eventually will find out my resting metabolic rate...or in layman's terms:  how many calories my body expends by doing absolutely nothing.  From this, we'll be able to calculate the number of calories I need to simply exist...and how many I should consume for weight loss.  Part one complete...easy peasy lemon squeezey.

My nemesis.

Part two begins...difficult difficult lemon difficult.  It's one thing to accept your body - I get it, I'm fat...but it is another thing entirely to have someone draw Xs on your body where they're going to grab the flab with a calliper and measure it, before going back in and measuring various circumferences with a tape measure.  Good thing I don't feel sorry for myself (okay, maybe I did, but just a smidge), or I would have gotten all up inside my head about it.  I had measurements taken on skin that hadn't seen the light of day since Spring Break 1992.  I suppose it's a good thing to know your body composition....but no one wants to find out that the majority of their configuration is fat...unless you are bacon...mmmm bacon.

Padawan me suited up for the bacta tank.

And now the Star Warsy part...after being pinched and prodded, I was introduced to my nemesis:  the treadmill.  *Insert diabolical laughter here*  We meet again.  This time, application of the scuba gear involved a halo (there's a first time for everything) to hold the mouthpiece in place.  And I was told to walk forward.  I can do that.  

As I walked, the treadmill would be increased to different levels of intensity - 5 levels in total.  I am of course terrified of this, but luckily the intervals are only 3 minutes long.  Having said that, I had no idea how long just 3 minutes actually was...until I had to exercise for 3 WHOLE minutes.  Ha!  You start out easy and then it gets harder...they didn't make me run or anything impossible like that, it was a mosey to a stroll to a romp to jaunt to a "let me just walk super fast up this hill to get away from that hungry looking wampa."  It felt a little Luke Skywalkery, you know, being hooked up to tubes like when he was in the bacta tank in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK...without the Jedi part...or the water...or being on Hoth.  So really, nothing like Star Wars actually...except for the tubes.  Oh, who cares...when do I get my tauntaun?

Aerobic Testing complete.