Sports conditioning. Sports. Conditioning. I went to this gym class today for the first time. And OMG, even the fats between my thighs and my ass hurt like a mo'fo.
I was thisclose to walking out of the class after the first five minutes, but my
inner warrior encouraged me to stick it out. I really had no idea what to expect except for the little description
provided on the schedule.
People. I had to run, sprint, skip, jog backwards, do push-ups and planks, jump on a stepper, need I say MORE? Nonstop! Plus I had to do it in a team of three--imagine me partnering up with two complete strangers who have no idea of my fitness level (if I even have one) and who look in tip-top shape to me. If you are brave enough to try this workout, drag along two of your close friends/relatives who understand your fitness level. Suffer with those you love, I say. My two teammates included one male and one female.
I had to apologize that I needed to take a break during the FREAKIN' LONG sprint-fest. At first they were sure, sure, no problem. The guy clapped and encouraged me each time I finished my leg of the sprint, and she clapped a few times too. Towards the end of the class, I sensed she felt I was not worthy to be on the team, when really, who the fuck is counting? Do my leg for me, bitch.
Perhaps I would exude the same vibe as she. Perhaps the scowl on her face was just an expression of pain. Eh, maybe I'm not a team player. All I know is that if I'm ever in that position where someone on my team is not as fit as I, then I will be super-friendly and smile through the pain.
I achingly stumbled back to my car with five facts.
1. I need to buy sports bras. Pronto.
2. I cannot attend this class again until my fitness level improves. Dramatically.
3. I will attend this class.
4. Men are damn awesome to have on your team.
5. Haha, do my leg for me, bitch.
