Monday, January 31, 2011

This Ain't Yo Mama's Jane Fonda Workout Tape

Shannon, who used to be my best friend but is now dead to me, invited me to a workout class she goes to 3 mornings a week. Our other bestie, Kara, also goes to this class and then goes and teaches a body shaping class afterwards (because she's sick that way). The class is called Boot Camp. And its at 5:30. In the morning.

The course description is "a high intensity, military style workout class. It will incorporate cardiovascular & strength training. The class routine will vary from obstacle courses to circuit training." What they meant to say is, "This is a high intensity, military style workout class and it may kill you and your unborn grandchildren."

The instructor is this woman who is like the love child of GI Jane and Hannibel Lecter. She's pure evil and at one point in the class I thought she had sprouted horns; it turns out I was only hallucinating from the lack of oxygen but seriously, horns would be appropriate for this she-devil, drill sergeant, our-airplane-crashed-in-the-Andes-and-we're-going-to-eat-each other woman.

Surprisingly though, she does have a heart. For example, after running a million laps and then "cooling down" by doing wall squats she came and let me know she saw me in my pain on my very first day and she sat on my lap. Now I know when I think of the word "lap" I think of library books and kittens and a warm fire but I want you to know when I say "she sat on my lap" I mean the lap that was my legs that were struggling to hold me up as I sat in an imaginary chair and the only warm fire was the one that was raging in my lungs and butt.

Later in the class we "skipped" around the track but it wasn't skipping like sweet-hopscotch-and-ice cream-cones skipping it was like Jack and Jill-are-coming-down-off-heroine-and-are chasing-you-because-they-heard-you-have-a-dollar-in-your-pocket skipping. It was while I was running from meth addicted Jack and Jill skipping that I started cussing. In my head. Under my breath. Cussing like I have never cussed before. Words I didn't know I knew. Cussing to dull the pain. Cussing. And then the cuss words didn't seem quite adequate. And I began creating my own guttural, asphyxiated, hateful language that finally expressed the reaction my body was having to this concentration camp of a workout.

I'd like to interject a little something about myself at this point--it is true, at this point in time of my life I am a "little" out of shape and yes, it is true, the only exercise I have been getting lately is walking to the fridge but dude, this was too much. Too much. It was too much. I am not even kidding you when I tell you that at one point I started crying. I.Started.Crying. The actual exercise we were doing is fuzzy in my memory but I know it had something to do with weights and push ups and me not being able to get up off the floor after 4 of them and all of a sudden my eyes just welled up with tears and Kara turned around to see if I had died and I flipped her off.

I think I was embarrassed because I really didn't think I would be able to finish the class and I kept thinking about how it would really suck to have to crawl out on my hands and knees but then I just dug deep, like deeper than I even had to dig when VAGINALLY BIRTHING MY CHILDREN and screwed the weights, did the push ups on the wall and sucked it up. It was at that very moment I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would come back to this God-forsaken class on Wednesday and get my ass kicked every which way to Sunday again.

At the end of the 50 minutes I had made it. Done it. Finished the class without collapsing. It wasn't pretty but I did it. I stood with Shannon, red faced, dizzy and sweating, talking with Tina the instructor (who turns out is a pretty cool lady when she isn't making Jillian Michaels look like Mother Theresa) when I started to feel quizzy. I must have gone a little pale because voices started shouting directions to the bathroom while I looked around panicky. I ran to the bathroom, bending over the toilet just in time before I projectile vomited. I stood up and wiped my face, thinking I couldn't believe I had just thrown up when I threw up again. I started to weakly laugh when I threw up again. 3 times total.

Shannon and Kara have already warned me that Wednesday nor Friday will not be any easier and that in fact the class is just pure torture all the time. I don't even have illusions of grandeur that I will go on Wednesday and do anything but be completely dominated but I am hoping that I can, once again, hold the vomit off until class is over.

Here's to aiming high.

8 comments:

Red said...

Way to go Jen. You're awesome. I totally would love to do this with you. Keep it up! I live the way you write about it too!!!

Dana Campbell said...

Oh. My. Gosh. THIS is hilarious! I just posted it to my friend Mary Anne who also goes, but missed this morning... Told her to not take ONE drink before reading lest her computer screen be at risk!

Kim W. said...

Impressive my friend! Im-press-ive!

day said...

The.Best.Post.Ever. Amen.

Dudster's Spot said...

Keep at it. I must admit, I am drawn to do this workout... we'll see. Before you know it you'll be hooked on Endorphins like Jack and Jill skipping and all that... You are so funny!

Bluntforcemama said...

Endorphins! I can't believe you agreed to such torture! Good karma.

Bex said...

This may be my favorite post. I love this! So hilarious! And, well done! I'm like Dudster, I suddenly feel drawn to this class...maybe after Africa you can show me the ropes!

Anonymous said...

Man I haven't laughed THIS hard, in a while! Thanks!!!!

Esther D