So, after last night’s MMA session I’m feeling pretty darn good. In fact, and I hesitate to say this, I kind of enjoyed it. In a ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ way.

In part, this was due to a new recruit. A young, healthy looking man joined the class. And then 20 minutes later he was vomiting behind a tree and left shortly after, muttering something about ‘a bad knee’. Ha!

Admittedly, I floated home on a cloud of smugness (leaving mud, grass and sweat in my wake) but within an hour the pain had kicked in. A session of minute-long planks, squats, explosive jumps, burpees, sprints, ‘ground and pound’ and sit ups left their mark. And I was left necking panadol at 4am.

Another weigh-in tonight and if I haven’t lost serious kilos there might be a tantrum. Apart from a Pringles-related accident at the weekend I’ve been pretty good, with two MMA sessions, 7km and a pilates class in one week. If it doesn’t translate to the scales you may hear the screams from Festival City…