Kelly’s Top Tracks of the Week, Ed. 2

This week, yet again, has been a decidedly random music-listening week. Without ado, here are my top 5 picks of the week:

 

1. Intro, The XX. Pitched for a perfectly paced warm-up, this song has enough winding chords to get you in that “I train to feel sexy” mood while also encouraging a good flex, stretch, and jog.

2. That’s Not My Name, The Ting Tings.  I realize this pick might be geared towards a more female audience, but I had a rather strong run to this song earlier today. Give it a try. (Some of you may remember this from the Victoria Secret Fashion Show a few years back.)

3. Can’t Stop, Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Here, friends, is my all time favorite exercise song ever. The bridge hits right when you’re about to die from running too fast or lifting too much weight, and for me, it has a perfect tone for revival. Also, the video is wicked. Watch it.

4. 212, Azealia Banks feat. Lazy Jay. Be warned, this song is not at all safe for work but it is most definitely a fool-proof pump-up song. I use it mostly for circuit training and weight lifting sets. Don’t tell my mother that I’m learning to rap it.

5. Recurring, Bonobo. If you find yourself at a loss for good yoga/Pilates/stretching music, look no further. A sweet melody begins the song, immediately lulling you into a state of electro-dream while the up-tempo beat 30-or-so seconds in helps keep you motivated to push stretches and downward facing dogs further.

One-Woman-Dance-Party Song of the Day: Rosie, The Kooks.

 

Dance, push-up, run, train, twist away!

Bad at Being Good: the first tough day for Sophie

After standing on the sides lines for three weeks, coughing and spluttering and being waited on by my oh so obliging boyfriend, I resolved that Monday would be THE day I was getting my flabby arse back in gear. Fitness apps downloaded, good intentions embraced and bright pink snazzy jazzy sports bra purchased, nothing was going to stand in my way.

Determination stations

I am very bad at being good. This malady seems to have its most potent affliction at the exact moment when tame Jane should step in and take the brain reins. Sunday night started well, I went to my friend Alex’s to do some prep for a presentation later in the week. We were very good, for about an hour. Being around her makes me want to drink; it’s strange, like a knee jerk reaction of devilish wonder. “We could just go for a small one.” One small one morphed into one large one then two, then two bottles, three, an impromptu pub quiz (definite epic failure), several cheeky cigarettes (‘I do NOT smoke‘) and four bottles of head boggling red wine…

“BALLS, I have to go to circuit training tomorrow.’

Monday morning, 7.30am and a steady pound pound pounding. I probably have the Sahara in my mouth, a steel band in my brain region, a swarm of bees in my lungs. I am probably an idiot.

Mondays are not fun: 5 hours of Public affairs followed by two hours of short hand.

I am determined; Dr Christian, the stevie-vision prophet, has foretold my potentially embarrassing fat future. I WILL go to the gym. It is snowing, short hand has considerably impaired my breathing abilities and caused a deep-rooted sickly nagging that seems to be muted only by a large quantity of greasy food. But…I go to the gym (I feel a little bit more awesome about myself than I probably should).

Bloody Nora on a rainy Sunday, circuit training is HARD! It’s not the running/jogging/sprinting/skipping/lunging, not even really the squats and weight lifting. More the tempo, the constant go go go and most difficult of all, the need for strength, which I appear just not to have.

Oh but I will. Yes yes, I will.

At the end of the hour the trainer tells us that all of the buses and most of the trains have been cancelled. The snow has fallen not all that thickly and England has gone into panic mode. It never ceases to amaze me how ridiculous this country is in adverse conditions. Let me tell you, come the zombie apocalypse, we are all screwed.

I am hatless, stuck on Sussex University campus wearing inappropriate shoes and a thin coat. Idiot status: reaffirmed. Sussex campus is in the middle of nowhere, nestled in a quasi-forest and the south downs. We are miles from civilisation. They close the library, the bar and the gym. This is not ok. What follows is two hours of running for trains, waiting on trains, listening to angry people shouting on trains. Then a three-mile trek through the Hove town wilderness (luckily I accidentally discovered my phone has GPS – GENIUS!) Buses are abandoned on the side of the road, the snow falls with a lack lustre determination sure to put the fear into any self-deprecating English-man. I trundle on. I am not afraid.

I am well on my way to being tough enough. I am definitely more awesome than I was when I woke up this morning. Probably.

Kelly’s Top Tracks of the Week, Ed.1

Music is the greatest. Good for the soul, for life and especially for working out*. You have to set the right atmosphere. I like to run to certain music, do circuits to different music, and do weight lifting to different music still. Here are a few tracks I can’t stop repeating this week (and what I use them for):

1. Lose It, Austra. Not only is the name fit for a burn, but this was my number-one-go-to-best-song-ever for running the blocks and avenues of NYC last year. It’s had a recent resurgence this week for me even though I now run in a very, very different setting. I now run here:

2. Stereo Hands, White Panda. Again, perfect for a run. Specifically, the end of a run. Stereo Love in the background instantly transports me back to “that awesome night of drinking and dancing and staying out way too late.” And all that makes the rest of the run seem worth the effort. Not to mention, the beat is perfectly timed for a steady running pace.

3. Dashboard, Modest Mouse. Don’t think I don’t know how random this song is for a workout, but I love it in real life and for some reason it helps motivate me through terrible lunge/leg circuits. Give it a try sometime.

4. New York, Angel Haze. For weight lifting. No further description needed.

5. Tremel, Glasser (Jamie XX Remix).  This song keeps me going long enough to get a good stretch in without lowering my heart rate, so it doesn’t encourage nap time when I find myself in child’s pose.

One-Woman-Dance-Party Song of the Day:  Winter in the Hamptons, Josh Rouse.

*Disclaimer: For workouts, I almost always listen to music I can dance to. Dancing makes me feel good and feeling good is always a strong motivator for a hard workout, no?

The Beginning According to Kelly

Dad. Sister. Sister. Cousin. Cousin. Uncle. Friend. Boyfriend. Friend.

Above is a mysterious list of very important people in my life who have or will shortly complete their first, second, third, or fourth Tough Mudder in the United States. I started this year thinking that choosing to study in jolly ol’ England would severely limit my ability to participate in what I perceived to be the crème de la crème of adult adventure races with everyone I love (and their fathers.) International flights are expensive, you know. Then a dear friend brought it to my attention that the head honchos at the Tough Mudder picked up their tea cups, spread their wings, and flew across the pond. My gut flipped and said, “Huzzah!” … and then my brain followed with, “DO NOT DO THIS ALONE.”

Now, having survived The Apocalypse during a Run For Your Lives event last year, I knew that the (crazy American based) “mud run” phenomenon was beyond worth the effort. Not only is it fun and difficult but the team element of it is bar none. I grew up going to adventure camp and I have two sisters, so I know what it’s like to do trust falls and share common goals.

These races are adventure camp on steroids.

I set about asking around for someone to participate in “the toughest event on the planet” with me… by leaving that tag line out. First, to my partner in crime, Sophie. To my disbelief happiness, she said ,”sure” without batting an eyelid. I vaguely remember saying something like, “Don’t worry. It’s mostly a team building thing… in a run. We’ll get in really good shape while we train.”  (We’re stumbling upon bathing suit season, so the words “really good shape” are always alluring, right?) We then, very luckily, picked up my wonderful/very strong boyfriend to help us over walls like these:

And finally, formed our modest team by enticing Jonny, our very own lovely human/resident drill sergeant. And so, Team: North of the Wall, was born to claim Westeros  the South London Tough Mudder course as it’s own.

My personal mantra for 2013 is NO SCAREDY CATS and with this race, and everything else I do, I fully intend to live up to it. Follow our progress, ask us questions, send us good karma or support, and keep your hands strong for clapping. We’ve signed our death waivers and it’s go time.