The Workout

For some weird twisted reason I am a glutton for punishment.  I tend to get myself into little twits of sorts. Relatively harmless but funny endeavors like a scenario that Elaine from Seinfeld would do. As I sit here in all kinds of muscular pain I ask myself. Why I subjected myself to a two hour workout class on Saturday- in between taking ibuprofen and walking like an old women,  I am still trying to figure this all out.

I'll admit my body isn't what it use to be.  Time has taken it's toll in the name of rolls.  The workout regime isn't what it use to be either.  For multiple reasons staying in shape has gotten away from me.  Maybe as a form of punishment to myself is the reason why I decided to take the  2 hour workout special event. Yes, a masochistic motivator to slap my ass right into the karma it deserves.

Darby,  my buddy was one of the master minds behind this event.  A motivated entrepreneur, and a  recent Mother of two.  She's as cute as a well formed button with all kinds of great energy, everything I want. It sounded like a good idea to me.  I signed up a good two weeks in advance and proceeded to let the dreading begin. What have I gotten myself into "Ladies who Lunge" is the name of the course, I can feel the pain already?  Who  am I fooling, this could be dangerous.  I haven't even been working out at all! I better start lunging at home to prep myself.  As the days went on and an occasional lunge and squat here and there, the impending date grew closer. I was clearly anxious and in general highly dubious of the outcome.  Not a good place to be for a self loathing, perimenopausal  female such as myself.

Friday night came like a bad bill.  As a good student I put myself to bed early. I had a big day a head of me.  Not only did I have the ladies who lunge workout class but that evening I had a memorial gathering/party for and old flame/friend of mine who had recently passed away.  Mixed emotions were running deep, brewing themselves in the name of inner term oil.  It was time to rise up and face the proverbial music.  After not sleeping well at all I got up early and drank a capuchino.  Set out a bottle of water, I set it out on the counter next to a brand new bottle of white vinegar.  The vinegar was for the salad I needed to prepare for the memorial service.  Well in my rush of distractedness I almost grabbed the vinegar as my drinking water. How bitter the sweat would be if that were to happen but it didn't  so all is well - so far...

I arrived at the club early, with the correct bottle of water and workout mat in hand.  I signed up and gave my niceties to Darby. She was giving me some kind of grief for the book I had picked for our next upcoming book club. I wasn't really present at the moment I was all consumed with the future and the humility of what lay ahead of me.  The ladies who lunge proceeded to file in. They wore tight fitting black as coal leggings with tight fitting colorful strappy tops.  I, on the other hand had on a faded blackish pair of draw string pants from the 90's loose fitting, hitting me, just so- creating even further the sawed off tree stump look I abhor.  On top of that I wore yet another loose fitting big white T shirt with a tree frog from Puerto Rico on it. I thought the tree frog could give me some good lunging vibes.  As I lay there mustering up various odd stretches I was struck by all the toned bodies, firm muscles and well proportioned butt cheeks strutting their stuff in front of me.  One by one they came in and found their places, muscles rippling and pony tails bouncing. I felt like I was at a horse show admiring the power of sleek well crafted bodies, individual in their own ways.  Some powerful and robust with massive muscular thighs and others tall, lean and tight.  Progressive hip hop music thumped on, the bass with it's heavy undertones reverberated inside of me  - imposing an impending doom like sensation all over my miserable body.  I try to comfort myself, I chuckle inwardly 'perhaps it's good fadder  for a blog on humility?'  Well here I sit attempting to do just that.

As it turned out there really wasn't all that much lunging.  There was plenty of up dog, down dog yoga poses.  Which would explain why my arms are killing me.  We also did a fair share of body planks that left me  a quivering mess.  Where there were chances to modify I did, I had decided to be somewhat smart about it.  When you are already over weight and you're asked to lift your entire body weight in a unnatural way, like laying down side ways up on one arm, hips in the air leaning against  the side of one foot and then do push ups.  No thanks, on my knees for this one and the next one if need be.  Miraculously I was doing considerably well, exhausted but functioning. The rubber band exercises, I even kind of enjoyed because they felt good, like they were stretching out my aching muscles. Come to think of it,  turns out later this is where I am probably  the sorest. My shoulders, neck and underarm region from all that pulling and stretching are killing me.  Just when I thought the toughest parts were behind me and I had made it pass the 1 and  1/2 hour marker we were asked to put on our tennis shoes  and go outside.  One of the women with the muscular thighs was heading up this part of the session.  I slipped on my very incorrect black leather tennis shoe like mules and  begrudgingly went out side.  There in the hot sun we proceeded to gallop, leap, skip and jump like idiots around the parking lot.  The whole time while being screamed and rooted on by this women. Once I heard her say "come on you don't want to be the last one do you?" I was so tired, literally dragging my ass, attacked by the slug-mo- lead foot syndrome it was all I could do to keep moving in an upright position.  My mouth was completely dry as I gazed to my left, I saw her the one with the thighs leap so high into the air a small child could of ran  underneath her.  It was shear madness, but I kept on going. I probably looked like I was ahead of the rest  because in-fact the rest were  laps ahead of me.  In the end I made it and was a better person because of it.  I  was soaked in humiliation and now ached with accomplishment.

As I was leaving Darby hugged me and said she was proud of me and mentioned that I should be too.  There were a slew of girls that opted not to go outside at all and waited in the cool air-conditioning while me and the other brave souls completed our laps of victory.  My chin went up a notch, I wasn't so bad after all.

That night I went to mourn and celebrate with  family and  close friends the life of a friend who died too young .  There was good food, plenty of laughs and  tears shared.  I drank Sailor Gerry rum and cokes, ate too much and slow danced with a women named La Donna.  I listened to a young man named Dallas  play his acoustic guitar and sing a hilarious song  he  wrote about Brownie Balls, while his good friends sang backup. I gazed upon the paintings of Dallas's twin brother Crosby's and thought what a brilliant mind. I am feeling glad to have the friends I have.  I am glad to  have a body that is somewhat willing and able.  I have seen a lot of tragedy  and know it can strike at any time. My life is blessed with an open mind and aching appreciative muscles.  I should start using them both a lot more often.