My Glorious Attempt at the “Sparta Kick”
So, there I was, just browsing the internet like any other day, and this video pops up. Some young fella, probably half my age and way more bendy, doing this thing they called a “Sparta Kick.” Looked pretty awesome, I won’t lie, like something straight out of those action movies. And everyone in the comments was like, “Oh, it’s a piece of cake!” or “Super good for your abs!” Yeah, right. Bunch of fibbers, the lot of ’em.
And of course, my brain, which seems to enjoy seeing me suffer, immediately thought, “You know what? You should totally try that!” That’s pretty much how all my genius plans kick off. And they usually end with me seriously questioning my life choices, let me tell you.
Anyway, I decided this morning was the day. I pushed some furniture aside in the living room. I mean, how tough could one kick actually be? That’s what I thought, anyway. Famous last words, as they say.
I remember thinking, “Alright, time to unleash my inner warrior.” Big, big mistake. My inner warrior, turns out, is more like a clumsy fool who hasn’t stretched properly since the early 2000s.
- First go: I got myself ready. Took a big gulp of air. And I went for it. My leg went up, kinda. But my balance? Absolutely nowhere to be found. I almost knocked over a poor, unsuspecting vase. The vase made it. My pride? Not so lucky. I felt like one of those floppy inflatable things you see at car dealerships, flapping about in a gale.
- Second go: “Okay, more control this time,” I muttered to myself. “Focus, man, focus.” This time, I actually got my leg a bit higher. Hey, progress! Only, I completely forgot about the “coming back down” part. I landed with a thud that probably shook the whole building. My neighbors downstairs must really appreciate me.
- Third go (third time’s the charm, eh?): By this point, I was sweating buckets. Not from the workout, you understand. Purely from the embarrassment of my own sheer incompetence. I really threw myself into this one. And my knee. My knee made this truly horrible crunching noise. Not a good noise, folks. Definitely not a “Sparta” noise. More like an “old guy’s about to need a new joint” kind of noise.
So, what pearls of wisdom did I gain from this little adventure?
Well, for starters, those fitness folks on the internet are probably from another planet, or they have extra joints we don’t know about. Or, more likely, they just chop out all the bits where they fall flat on their face. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
It’s always the way, isn’t it? You see something, it looks dead simple. You give it a whirl. Then bam! Reality slaps you right in the face. Or, in my situation, the floor slaps you after a spectacularly failed kick.
It’s like trying to put together one of those flat-pack wardrobes with the “super easy” instructions. You end up with something that sort of looks like a wardrobe, but it’s got a spare door and wobbles if you so much as breathe near it. This Sparta Kick business is the physical version of that nightmare.
I also noticed my dog was just sitting there, watching the whole ridiculous show. Silently judging me. I could see it in his eyes. “You call that a kick, human?” he was probably thinking. He can leap onto the sofa without even a run-up. Show-off.
So, the Sparta Kick? Let’s just say it’s still on the to-do list. A very, very long way down the to-do list. Maybe I’ll have another crack at it tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll just go back to, you know, walking. Walking’s safe. Less risk of needing a trip to the emergency room. For now, the only thing getting a serious kicking is my own ego. And believe me, it’s taking a proper beating.
