Today, I started back at my exercise regime. I do not care to admit how long it has been since I last sweated intentionally. Let’s just focus on the fact that I have stretched my big toe onto the exercise bandwagon, and hope it hasn’t suffered a strain on its way there! There is a long way to go yet to reach the level of fitness I had achieved over the summer. And, boy did I feel that every second of the way this afternoon!
When I exercise DH jokes I look more like Robocop about to do battle with all that is evil. Indeed, that might be a smidgen easier than my flailing attempt to match the agile/hopping/bouncy/bendy blonde (usually a blonde!) DVD instructor. My workout gear is not complete without heavy, blue supports on both knees, and a non-matching black/grey wrist support (I blame texting – I think I have RSI!). To crown it all, I insist on my my thick, towelling headband – again, not matching! The attire alone restricts my ability to move with ease and grace. That’s where the similarities with Robocop end.
I wish I were Robocop. If I were, I would not struggle through the workouts. Superheroes do not struggle through anything (apart from Algebra, Calculus and Applied Maths). If I were a superhero I would not struggle through workouts feeling like my lungs might explode at any minute, or fret that my sweat glands may not be able to keep up, and I will be the first known case of sweat combustion!
OMG, it was so hard I wanted to give up after the warm up; in fact, I wanted to give up during the warm up! As I watched the bouncy blonde bounce around the place without an obvious need to breathe, and still able to belt out motivational instructions, I just wanted to press the ‘stop’ button.
But, I couldn’t. And you wouldn’t if you could muster up the energy/enthusiasm/desire…(take your pick) to press ‘play’ on this DVD in the first place! Stopping is never a good idea. To stop means defeat. Besides, I didn’t even have the energy to press ‘stop’. My muscles were focusing so hard on trying not to seize up and strangle the blood supply to my heart, I couldn’t think about pressing ‘stop’.
Dripping with sweat, puffing and panting, unable to re-hydrate quickly enough, I shuffled out of my exercise room once I had finished. I swear I could feel the muscle soreness kicking in by the time I got to the shower. But despite all the inelegance that is me working out, the endorphin release had already started to gear me up for the next session. Bring it on!