Since I have declared 2007 the "year of me" (in a good way, not a narcissistic, fuck-the-rest-of-you way), I have been giving serious thought to my resolutions. I have never been much for resolutions...oh, sure, in years past I scrawled something down on a notepad like "eat healthier." Which meant, "try to work in an actual vegetable between Lean Cuisines and wine so that I can lose 10 lbs."
But, this year, for some reason, my resolve seems stronger. I feel ready to be thoughtful about what I want for myself in the coming year. Add to that the fact that there is an outside chance that I might be with child at some point in the next 12 months and, all of a sudden, actually striving for a more healthy way of living seems more important, more worthwhile. Maybe also because this year, for the first time in a decade, "eat healthier" really isn't code for "lose weight, dammit."
So, I rejoined the university gym and have been poring over the classes, looking for something that won't bore me to tears within the first 10 days (see: running, swimming, and cardio machines that are never available anyway because of all the 19 year-olds bouncing away at any given time of day). This week is "promo week," which means you can try out any and all of the fitness classes for free.
For my first, I picked some kind of cardio/circuit training combo class. I walked into that room yesterday ready to kick some ass. It did dawn on me, almost immediately, that I was at least ten years older than every other woman in the class. But, the voice inside my head said, "Screw these other girls, I'm fit. Well, at least sort of active. I mean, I walk the dogs once a day. Hell, I look a lot better in these yoga pants than I did last year. That being said, I guess I should probably take it nice and slow...I haven't really worked out in a couple of months."
That changed as soon as class started with all sorts of boot-camp-like tasks like bounding across the room like frogs, doing minutes upon minutes of squats and tricep dips and push-ups. My competitive fire ignited. I was squatting as low, if not lower, than those teenagers. I was sprinting back and forth just as fast as they were, and looking damn good doing it, may I say so. Hubris, pride, etc. etc.
Several hours after class, I was having those tell-tale twinges in all of my major muscle groups and the little voice inside my head said, "Dumbass." Fast forward to today. If I sit longer than 15 minutes, standing up sets every muscle in my legs on fire. It took my 2 minutes to crouch down and actually sit on the toilet this morning and I almost cried doing it. I just "walked" the dogs, looking like I had a pole shoved up my ass and making faces and little grunts that surely don't add to my neighborhood reputation. I can't walk up or down our stairs without propping up 75% of my body weight on the banister and even that hurts like shit.
Being 31 sucks sometimes. (But I still kicked ass yesterday.)
But, this year, for some reason, my resolve seems stronger. I feel ready to be thoughtful about what I want for myself in the coming year. Add to that the fact that there is an outside chance that I might be with child at some point in the next 12 months and, all of a sudden, actually striving for a more healthy way of living seems more important, more worthwhile. Maybe also because this year, for the first time in a decade, "eat healthier" really isn't code for "lose weight, dammit."
So, I rejoined the university gym and have been poring over the classes, looking for something that won't bore me to tears within the first 10 days (see: running, swimming, and cardio machines that are never available anyway because of all the 19 year-olds bouncing away at any given time of day). This week is "promo week," which means you can try out any and all of the fitness classes for free.
For my first, I picked some kind of cardio/circuit training combo class. I walked into that room yesterday ready to kick some ass. It did dawn on me, almost immediately, that I was at least ten years older than every other woman in the class. But, the voice inside my head said, "Screw these other girls, I'm fit. Well, at least sort of active. I mean, I walk the dogs once a day. Hell, I look a lot better in these yoga pants than I did last year. That being said, I guess I should probably take it nice and slow...I haven't really worked out in a couple of months."
That changed as soon as class started with all sorts of boot-camp-like tasks like bounding across the room like frogs, doing minutes upon minutes of squats and tricep dips and push-ups. My competitive fire ignited. I was squatting as low, if not lower, than those teenagers. I was sprinting back and forth just as fast as they were, and looking damn good doing it, may I say so. Hubris, pride, etc. etc.
Several hours after class, I was having those tell-tale twinges in all of my major muscle groups and the little voice inside my head said, "Dumbass." Fast forward to today. If I sit longer than 15 minutes, standing up sets every muscle in my legs on fire. It took my 2 minutes to crouch down and actually sit on the toilet this morning and I almost cried doing it. I just "walked" the dogs, looking like I had a pole shoved up my ass and making faces and little grunts that surely don't add to my neighborhood reputation. I can't walk up or down our stairs without propping up 75% of my body weight on the banister and even that hurts like shit.
Being 31 sucks sometimes. (But I still kicked ass yesterday.)
Labels: Rambling
