Boot Camp

It’s been awhile. A LONG while. I can honestly say I never intended to be this negligent towards my blog- or my “operation” for that matter. The last month or so has brought on a feeling that I haven’t felt in awhile. The feeling is akin to what I felt as a young, college, party girl skipping out on church. I always wanted to go, but come Sunday morning I never felt right in the pew, knowing how I’d whooped it up the few nights before. After all, God can’t see us unless we are in church, right? On the same train of thought, I have neglected facing you, dear blog, because I haven’t done a single work out since the first week of July. And even that fateful day, was the only time I had attempted physical activity that week. I cannot excuse my laziness leading up to that day, nor my laziness the past week or two. That specific day though, I shall remember forever. That was the day I attempted “Boot Camp Workout” with Gena.

A new friend of mine has a daughter who is two and also another daughter just a few months younger than Sophia. She encouraged me greatly in both my blog and working out. Her husband is a physical trainer at a local gym. Due to her own dedication and hard work, she looked a million times better than me by the time her second child was a mere two months old. She is so gracious and kind that she really helped me get going (don’t worry; I will get to how I became such a lazy-butt again). We began with good, stroller-pushing, heart-pumping, 3 mile walks. That was great. Sophia liked it (usually), I liked it and we both got to know some other mamas and babies. Then, my friend told me how she got to bring a friend to her gym several times a month for free as part of her husband’s benefits. I was excited. They have a good daycare for Sophia and great classes that my friend attends 3 times a week. My first go at it was a class called “Move and Muscle” with Gena. Gena, the instructor, told me that since I had done Body Pump classes before, I would do fine. I HAD done Body Pump before. And it was tough. I could always count on being sore for days if I hadn’t done it for a week or so. Move and Muscle made Body Pump seem like child’s play. Honest to God, 20 minutes in and I had done moves that I didn’t know existed and few more that I thought were reserved for overzealous football players and I was huffin’ and puffin’ worried about whether or not I was really going to vomit all over the carpet. Like the sissy I am, I excused myself to the ladies’ locker room and dry heaved for a good five minutes before returning to class. I finished and despite my little intermission, I felt accomplished. The next week my friend asked me to join her again to her regular Wednesday classes. She does Aerobic Step for 30 minutes and then 30 minutes of Boot Camp, both with the now infamous Gena. Despite being the least physically challenging, Aebobic Step was the biggest nightmare of all three classes. Part of the warm up included a fantastic ab work out. After that, I was basically tripping over myself trying to figure out the footwork, but not knowing my right and left well enough to get it, even by the end of class. Throw in a step bench and I was a hot mess. I was completely embarrassed but at least I kept moving and burned some calories. Then came Boot Camp. Gena and my friend both assured me if I could make it through Move and Muscle, I would be fine. By this point I had begun to seriously doubt both of them, but at least the class was only supposed to be 30 minutes. I enjoyed that level of comfort for about 2 minutes, because next thing I knew, Gina was gathering up yard gloves, jump ropes and herding everyone outside. Confusion and fear returned. We followed our fearless leader to the sloped asphalt parking lot between the building and my favorite Mexican Restaurant. I tried not to the think about the happy people who were probably enjoying really refreshing margaritas. “RUN!” WTH? Run, now? Visions of H.S. Volleyball and running suicides overtook my margarita daydreams. I “sped” down the slope trying desperately not to be the last one down and back. I wasn’t, by the way- not even second to last. I don’t know why I bothered rushing. Once I reached the top, some sick and demented version of up-downs were waiting for me. I actually appreciated the yard gloves at that point. “RUN!” Again? Off I went. And half way down, BAM! I rolled my left ankle, caught my fall on my right shin. I skid on it enough to get some pretty tough looking scrapes and bruises. Thank God for the gloves, my hands remained scratch free. I thought not knowing my right and left was embarrassing. This was worse. My friend and Gena both had to help me walk back into the shade, get me ice and an accident report. Some stranger had to help me carry my own baby to my car. And that, is what led up to not going to the gym for weeks. It no longer hurts, but it is still definitely larger than my other ankle. I realize that’s one hell of an excuse, but this stuff can’t be made up!

It’s really too bad, I was doing well on my “weight loss wedding goal”. I wasn’t going to make it down to 165 by the wedding or anything, but I was a 168. I was losing weight, eating healthy foods, pushing my comfort zone and working out. After that, the whole “Operation: Get Hot” thing pretty much just fell apart. Between BBQs, weddings, alcohol, not working out, camping, snacks and just overly stuffing my face in general, I found myself standing on the scale and blinking back the tears. It read 180. Granted, I believe this was water retention after consuming an ungodly amount of Tim’s Cascade Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips while camping, but still. That was a hard slap in the face. This morning was the first Friday Weigh-In in a long time. 170. *sigh* I’m back to that.