Gym shorts

I've shirked my blogging responsibilities lately and I am oh so very sorry. My hamstrings are very sorry too. They're also very sore. In fact, it appears that they might be forming a mutiny.* I fully expect them to have jumped ship by tomorrow morning. Wait, in a mutiny don't they make the captain jump ship? I'm doomed.

What do my hamstrings have to do with my lack of blog posts? A lot. They're the whole reason I haven't been able to open up the computer and tap away at the keys. And you thought I used my hands. Ha!

Actually, the relationship between blogging and hamstrings goes a little something like this . . .

Two weeks ago I joined a different gym in town. While I was sweating to the oldies** on the treadmill I noticed an advertisement that was taped to the machine. It said something to the effect of - 'Do you want to lose amazing amounts of weight in a ridiculously short time? Do you want to fit into your jeans from high school? Are you crazy enough to take this class?' Alright, I don't remember the exact words but by the end of my workout I had signed up for a 6 week high-intensity, personal-training-setting class. And I paid money for it. I guess that explains the crazy part.

The first class was on Sunday and we learned all about our new nutrition plan which includes um . . . let's see . . . dang, where'd I put that little list of acceptable foods . . . uh, it includes . . . well, let's just say that if you LOVE dairy products and grains it would take a lot of getting used to because there are none of them. I actually had a dream this week that was all about toast with butter on it. Sad, sad, sad.

We also worked out that first day. To open a little window into how I was feeling afterwards, I walked out of the gym with one of their towels because quite honestly my mind had left the building and I'd completely forgotten that the white thing in my hand wasn't mine. I didn't have the energy to turn around and take it back in. I then sat in my car for a few minutes before driving the 8 blocks home for fear that I didn't have the strength to hold the steering wheel.

Before I make myself out to be a weanie I must give examples of my athletic prowess. Alright, prowess is probably not the right word but we'll just carry on. Way back in 1987 my school took part in the Presidential Physical Fitness tests. They were special that year because not only were we competing against each other, a select few were also competing against the Soviets. THE SOVIETS! The safety of the world rested in how many pull-ups we could do. I've got my pin and the letter from Ronald Reagan to prove it. I think it's with my Princess Diana books.

In high school I was on the track team where I was a sprinter and a high jumper. Now granted, on the days that the sprinters were doing pyramid workouts it might be true that the other high jumpers and I decided that it was imperative we work on our form and our form only. I don't know too many people who like pyramids.

In college I needed to take a credit of gym. I decided that Canoeing/Kayaking 101 (which was held in the winter and thus in the college pool) wasn't for me and chose to take Military Conditioning instead. My friend Sarah and I got up early three mornings a week starting in January and ran through the frigid Wisconsin air across campus to the gym. We were the only two girls in the class and the Sergeant, though he called us Fric and Frac, cut us no slack. His instructions to 'exercise until muscle failure and then run two miles' meant exactly that. It took about a week before I was able to lift my arms above shoulder height. Shampooing was a real chore. I may have skipped a couple of days. Of shampooing, not class!

I've taken boot camp classes, suffered through kick boxing with friends, completed two marathons, and kept myself somewhat active the rest of the time. I have not, however, kept myself as active as this class has kept me in just three workouts. I don't remember a time when I voluntarily did wall-sits or push-up planks. I don't think that I've taken an inventory of what was missing from my life and found bench-jumps on that list. I can't remember the last time I've sweated this much.***

So, in a very large nutshell there you have it. If over the next six weeks you see that my posting is erratic all I can say is that I'm very sorry. And so are my hamstrings. And my quads. And my glutes. And my biceps. And my triceps. And my abs. And my calves. And my pinky toes. I'm sure they'll start hurting at some point.

Here's hoping that I don't dream about toast tonight.

*I'm not really sure what that even looks like but I'm sure it's bad.

**I wasn't really listening to oldies and Richard Simmons was no where in sight. His shorts however, were.

***Sorry, that might be too much.