Namaste, Donkey Girl

Here at Oh Sugar, Please, we like to dedicate some of time to being up in the gym, workin on our fitness.  It's the only way to balance out a steady diet of Riesling and salsa.  So when I was home from work on Monday, prepping for a final exam (my FINAL final exam, mind you), I took advantage of the opportunity to pop over to my gym and get in a mid-morning spinning class.  I love spinning classes - pumpin' jams in a dark room.  It was going to be a great chance to blow off some steam before my final and clear my head. 

I got to class a little early, as usual, so I could warm up and adjust the bike.  I'm mid-neck roll when some girl flits in the class (two seconds before it starts - rude) and takes the bike next to me.  Uh, sweetheart, this is 10:30 class on a MONDAY, it's not like we have to save space.  Agitation point no. 1.  How am I supposed to live out my winning the Tour de France for the 15th time fantasy with some clown next to me.  Whatever, namaste.  (I learned that in hot yoga - also a win). 

So we start the class.  The instructor's pumping the jams, as usual, and I'm really feeling it.  My Tour de France fantasy is in full force.  In my head, I'm so far ahead of everyone, they're all a day behind (is this possible?). All of the sudden, the sound of a donkey braying interupts my daydream as this clown next to me shouts to the instructor:  "CAN YOU BRAAAAAAY CALL OUT THE INTERALS BRAAAAAAAAY SO I KNOW HOW LONG WE'RE GOING BRAAAAAAAY".  Agitation point no. 2.  She's a hot mess, leaning over her bike and clearly counting down the seconds until this class is over (which is why she needs to know how long she has in any one position/resistance combo).  Lame.  Whatever, namaste.  Back to France. 

Clown girl goes a while longer without disturbing my amazing performance in spin class (I was really kicking it that day).  Then AGAIN, without warning, the donkey bray:  "CAN YOU BRAAAAAAY TURN UP THE MUSIC BRAAAAAAAAY".  Agitation point no. 3.  Really, B? This music is loud.  And you need it louder?  Oh, right, I forgot.  You're trying to make your body forget that its actually working right now.  Namaste, donkey girl. 

We finish up the workout and move into the cooldown, stretch sequence.  The instructor turns down the music and leads us through some stretches.  I'm loving the post workout cooldown when, ONE MORE TIME, the donkey bray:  "CAN YOU BRAAAAAY TURN DOWN THE MUSIC BRAAAAAY".  Agitation point no. 4.  Honey, this ain't your living room and this ain't your private lesson.  If you have so many needs that must be accomodated when you work out, hire a trainer or work out on your own.  No Namaste for you. 

What Did I Get Myself In To?

Six and a half weeks ago, I had my second abdominal surgery in six months.  For the previous six months, I had days were I couldn't even get out of bed.  Just thinking about exercise made me wince.  After my second surgery, I was assured my problems were fixed.   After a few days of lying around my house nursing a very sore tummy and incisions, my mom said it was time to get moving.  At first I could only walk as far as the stop sign about a quarter mile down the street from my house, and that took me a good 40 minutes or so to complete.  But every day, I started walking a little bit more and a little bit more, pushing myself to go a little bit faster every time.

Two weeks after the operation, my doctor gave me the all clear to do whatever exercise I wanted at the four week mark.  So naturally, after being an involuntary couch potato for six months and being a few weeks out from surgery, I think, "I know what I'll do to get back into shape.  I'll do a boot camp!!!"  Because you know, it's just a hop, skip and a jump from doing nothing and having your tummy cut open to pushing 150 pound sleds up and down a soccer field. 

I showed up to my first day of bootcamp and within, oh, five second, I thought, "Holy hell what did I get myself in to?!"   The camp is run by an amazing instructor who has waaaaaay too much energy for 6am.  She doesn't walk anywhere, she sprints.  I had half a mind to tell her Lloyd Dobler Say Anything Style: "DUDE. YOU MUST CHILL."  Now I just want whatever drug she's on.  

Boot camp had us running laps around a soccer field, doing jumping jacks, push ups, jump rope, playing with kettle bells, Bosu balls, and all sorts of stuff I have not done since I was 8 years old in elementary school.  We had to do a running challenge around the soccer field and I came in a good minute behind the rest of the group.  I felt like the kid who would be picked last in dodgeball.  The next day, I could barely move. 

I honestly thought about dropping out.  For better or worse though, I'm a very proud and stubborn person.  After having boasted to about half the people I knew that I was starting a boot camp, I would have been embarrassed to quit.  So I stuck with it.  I started running on my own so that I wouldn't feel like this kid when the two lap challenge came around.  I reminded myself that my brother was a professional athlete in the NFL and my twin sister runs half marathons.  I could do this too!  The next time the run challenge came around, I shaved over 45 seconds off my time.  I took off even more the next time the run challenge came around.

This is the last week of this round of bootcamp and I managed to push this machine loaded with 70 extra pounds (so 145 pounds total) up and down a portion of the soccer field in 3:44--the second fastest time for the group.  Then I rolled around on the field for a good three minutes groaning in pain.  Whatever, I did it.   

I'm officially addicted to bootcamp.  Hoo Rah.