I hate mornings.
I hate exercise for the sake of exercise.
I hate being bossed around, and doing anything for no reason other than that's what I'm told.
Knowing all that, doesn't it make sense that I've signed up for boot camp fitness classes?
Classes start at 5:30am tomorrow.
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Holy Crap! (Please insert stronger curse word here - I'd do it myself, but I can't move any more than my finger tips.)
ReplyDeleteThe alarm went off at 4:00am today. I was told to leave the house by 5:00, because if I'm late the entire class has to do pushups. I've got to admit that I contemplated letting them do their pushups. They're there to get exercise, aren't they? I need my sleep, dammit!
I sucked it up and managed to get there on time. We didn't do anything that would seem all that difficult, in and of itself. 60 reps of just about everything later, I was dying. Lifting my water bottle to have a drink hurts.
The truth is, I felt like I did a half-assed effort (because that's all I could muster) on a lot of the activities, and I still feel like I got the work out of my life. 90 minutes of running up and down hills, doing pushups, hauling pails full of sand and lifting dead weight, it was finally over.
I know what my sister-in-law meant when she said that she hates every moment of the class, but loves how she feels when it's over. I'm not loving anything about it just yet...
This message brought to you by my very strong desire not to be fat anymore.