After failing to launch out of bed this morning for a pre-work run, I felt like I had failed myself. I was grouchy, grumpy and had a very sore head.
We sorted the head pain but the grumpiness needed something else.
Knowing that I probably wouldn't even attempt to run after work, I - or rather a small and usually insignificant part of my brain that usually wouldn't be listened to, decided to book myself into a group exercise session at the strange building that I used to attend so regularly. The gym.
By booking on a course, you immediatley have to attend. Otherwise there's a charge. I have no idea what this charge is, but when you have a complimentary membership any charge is bad.
So I decided that I would try something new.
"You need to feel the burn" I thought to myself, " Its only real exercise if you sweat and ache." So I listened to my inner being and crossed Pilates off. As pleasant as it is, it's a de-stresser and a toner (if you do it right). Not a full on"I've just been to the gym and worked really hard" kind of work out. My eyes scanned the timetable quickley and surreptiously, after all I was sat at my desk and supposed to be calling people to spend money. I selected my course of choice and made the all important phone call.
"I'd like to book into the Boxercise course" might be that magical phrase I'll probably wish I never uttered. Ask me on Friday (oh, Friday) when I am unable to lift my arms or walk.
It wasn't until Miss Hendo and I arrived outside the sports hall (I should've know it would never be like aerobics when they mention 'Sports Hall') that I began to panic.
We looked through the open (but not so welcoming door) and behold - there were many men. Never a good sign, they have more stamina and are stronger. And a lot of strange equipment.
That's right my friends, boxing gloves, punch bags, skipping ropes and lots of sponge mats. I'm glad Miss Hendo decided to come too, otherwise I'm pretty sure I would have dipped my head, backed away and pretend I was in the wrong place.
Now I don't quite know what I thought Boxercise was, but it certainly wasn't this room here. Miss Hendo and I walked in. We were committed. This little 'adventure' was not going to undermine our desire for summer fitness.
Well, I would say I was fairly fit. Not much stamina, but I can exercise happily. But this class?
I nearly died in the warm up. Problem with group exercise is that you have to keep the pace. If you slack, everyone looks at you and the shame is unbearable. And there was no way this testosterone filled room would make me feel weak.
I put on my acting face, tried not to sweat/collapse and kept going.
I will never know how I managed to get through 60 minute circuit training or how on earth I learned to put on boxing gloves and punch a bag, but apparently it comes naturally. I will confess, I did picture myself on set for 'The Fighter' with Mark Wahlberg. And I was definitely kicking his ass. And not soaking my clothes in the process. I had the whole 'perfect work out' look going on - just like the girls on those patronising exercise videos that make you kid yourself that you can have their body by prancing about in your living room.
I am sure I am not alone in thinking that all that fighting and boxing stuff looks easy. I used to think high kicks were a doddle (back in my dancing days) but now? This person is going to be very sore.
The only part that won't be is my pride. I finished the whole session. Did every activity... I modified the sit-ups ( for some reason I can't pull myself up...stupid abs) and I definitely didn't sprint for a full minute... can anyone? But Miss Hendo and I made it through.
It maybe the post exercise endorphines and the fact that at the moment I don't feel any pain...but we're off again next week. And dragging Miss USA with us.
