Post by CJ Warren on Jun 21, 2014 19:45:14 GMT
On this overcast Saturday morning, CJ jogged down to the Quidditch Pitch, dropping his things at the edge of the pitch, including his broom, and he set off at a fast run around the pitch, speeding through three laps before stopping and working on some stretches before moving on; a few squats, some lunges, followed by press ups. With those out of the way, he grabbed his broom and made it hover above head height so that he could work on a pull ups.
His goal for this year was to get in shape - really in shape. He didn't want to be like one of those pathetic, skinny runts who looked like they would snap at the slightest bit of pressure. No, he wanted to look like the one capable of doing the snapping, if anything. He'd spent the majority of his summer down the beach, surfing, and he was missing it now that he was at school again, but school meant Quidditch, which was a fair exchange. He'd come into the year with a schedule all worked out for what he was going to do and when he was going to do it, and so far he'd done well to stick to it as much as he could. It was filled with times when he would work out, study, and free time, and, of course, he was currently in a 'work out/Quidditch practice' slot.
Once he'd finished his pull ups, CJ dropped his broom and took off at a run again, running a lap, then alternating side steps for a lap, then another lap with knee-ups, before finishing with another sprint around the pitch. By time he got back to where he started he was breathing hard and sweating: a sign of a damn good workout. He shrugged off his tracksuit jacket, leaving only he sports vest underneath, then took a long drink of water.
Once he'd caught his breath, CJ picked up his broom and mounted it, soaring up into the air, flying a few laps of the pitch then working on some accuracy moves, sweeping, diving, and some sharp turns - all things that would be really helpful when it came to matches. As he kept going, he didn't pay any attention to his surroundings or the pitch below him, so anyone could have wandered onto the pitch and he wouldn't have been any the wiser. Which, apparently, had happened...
Outfit: [x]
