I must admit, I was feelin' a little cocky when I walked into the packed room at a local VFW, ready to sweat and flex my newfound muscles. After all, I've been doing two-a-days for a little over a month and I'm training for a FREAKING MARATHON. I am fitter than I have ever been. How difficult could one hour be? Ummm...pretty damn difficult.
I ripped off my shirt during the warm up. Baby belly be damned, because I could not tolerate having that extra layer on. Nor could I tolerate taking it easy and going at the class half-assed. (For those of you who don't know me, I prefer the whole ass approach.) My legs were sca-reeeeem-ing in the first ten minutes. My arms started shaking at fifteen. I can't even tell you what my abs were up to at the half-hour mark, because I had moved beyond pain to sheer determination.
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| Baby belly be damned! |
That was the hardest, sweatiest, most exhilirating hour of extreme fitness I've experienced in quite a while. So...now I know what my next Beachbody shipment is going to be. My arms were still in spasm state and my head was still floating in workout la-la land while I got an autograph for Bubba and a photo for me. All I could concentrate on was when I could start Insanity at home. Which means, hubby will be entering the Asylum with me, whether he wants to or not...muahahahahaha. So please, pardon the upcoming overzealous posts once I start, because these endorphins tend to spin outta control...
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| Bubba with his autograph |
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| Too ramped up to pose pretty |
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