Murder...

After all of that craziness of falling behind, I am finally caught up and the blog will resume as normal. For those of you who are confused, the following took place on November 13, 2012. Ooo fancy. It's like the start of a crime drama or something. But worry not, the only murder that takes place in this post is the murder of every single muscle in my body.

It's Dynamic Core Tuesday. Yesterday I didn't get to go to Zumba because I just started my part-time gig at Target and had my first official day. So I'm glad when Rachel texts me to see if I want to go to the gym tonight. I get to the gym and greet all of my wonderful friends. Honestly, I'm a celebrity and it feels awesome.Validation win. I run downstairs and change and bound back up to Rachel. Rachel has brought a friend that she works with and the three of us are planning on kicking butt, tonight.

Class seems a little busy, tonight, but we have learned to be aggressive enough to get some good spots. We stretch it out a little bit Kiki starts class. We start with some breathing and stretching and lead into a whole series of squats. Apparently we will be doing a lot of squats, tonight. Oh goody. And some lunging, too. Perfect. A lot of these have a flexibility component that while difficult, feel like they're doing their job. And my butt is still sore from sitting on that bike seat for 50 minutes. I don't know how anyone can feel comfortable on a bike seat, so it must be worse for a fat person. Anyway, the lunging, squatting, and stretching sets my glutes and thighs ablaze and we enter the part of the workout where I want to quit.

Little breaks but no quitting, that's my philosophy as I continue to push through the pain. I know it makes me sound amazing but I guarantee you I look like an idiot. I flush and I'm sweaty and my hair is all matted and my stomach keeps peeking out from below my shirt. Trust me, exercise isn't pretty. My shoulders and arms burn as we move to weighted curls and presses and lifts. Thank god Rachel is next to me and is a wonderful source of encouragement. I'd hate to cry when I don't have a bike to cry behind.

We move to planks and then onto burpees. Honestly the worst exercise invented. You plant your hands on the ground, kick out your feet into a plank position, jump your feet back up to your hands and stand up. And we did these for probably 2 minutes. Then we added a squat and a push-up to the mix. Kiki is so mean.

After this we move to abs. Crunches and oblique twists when on the ground. I always feel like it's a break when I get to lay on the ground but it's not. It's just as hard. I think I hear my abs literally curse at me throughout the workout. Then we do some bridging and really work the glutes some more. The only reason I can keep going is a combination of encouragement from Rachel and Kiki, and a great remix of Gangnam Style. 

At the end of class, there's a madhouse of people. I want to escape this room and everyone coming in for Body Pump (or maybe it's body combat) and super pumped to get going, apparently. Take it down a notch. Don't be too excited for the whole fitness thing. Though maybe I'll do this class one day and I will realize how exciting it really is. I won't knock it until I've tried it.

Compliments...

Thursday is one of my favorite days of the week because it's a Pilates day. But I can't find my yoga mat and paranoia is reawakened deep down inside. I'm convinced someone is trying to sabotage any sort of progress I'm making by causing me to forget to do laundry and to misplace critical pieces of exercise equipment. Although does a mat count as a piece of equipment? I must admit I always though of equipment as a way to describe something that has a mechanical component. Enough engineering talk. Back to to exercise.

I speed home after work in order to put my workout stuff together. I hate feeling rushed but what do I expect when I wasted my morning sleeping instead of prepping for the day? I make it with time to spare so I get primo selection of spots. Front and center because I rock at everything. I do a little bit of stretching to warm up. If I had really wanted to warm up, I would have spent fifteen minutes on the elliptical before class, but who has time for that?

Side note: flexibility is really something I want to maintain and increase. I have to express frustration that I haven't noticed a giant change in my flexibility since I started doing yoga and Pilates. Flexibility is something that seems to be a key component of Pilates. If I can't reach my ankle when I have one foot in the air, how can I correctly do the drill? 

Regardless, Kiki comes in and welcomes the class and then, because she is so awesome, announces to the entire class that they should check out my blog. She has linked it on the page of her Pilates studio. I feel like a celebrity. Hopefully everyone else feels the same way.

Throughout class, my blog occasionally makes an appearance. True, most of the time it's because Kiki's telling me what I'm not allowed to put in the blog, but it really does make me feel awesome. She tells me I'm not allowed to include how she encourages us to adjust ourselves to spread our butt cheeks wider so we can feel more connected to the floor. Don't worry, Kiki, I won't put that in.

After class I head to Best Friend Rachel's house and we watch The Princess Bride and eat popcorn and peaches. Then I go to Buffalo Wild Wings to celebrate a friend's birthday. Now, I know I have mentioned before that I love getting compliments, and tonight I get a bunch. Everyone is telling me I look great and that my butt looks awesome and it's like all is as it should be. I should be getting compliments. 

Everyone should be getting compliments because it makes you feel awesome. So you, reading this, you are awesome. And I don't care where you are in your day, if you just woke up or if you just exercised, but you look amazing. There. Take my compliment and go into the world feeling awesome about yourself. And compliment someone else and make their day. Pay it forward.

Halloween...

People. Don't ever let me fall behind again. It's incredibly tough to try and recall enough specifics to make my posts remotely enjoyable for you. Also, follow the stinking thing. Click over to the left. You'll make me feel special.

So today is a CX Works day (Wednesday, for those of you trying to keep track), the class Justin has been harping on me to come to. The one he gave me a ton of flack for missing last week. When he made me cry, remember? He didn't actually make me cry. I hope you all know that. Anyways, I see him when I enter the gym and I can't resist poking fun so I go over and say, "Guess what I'm not going to, tonight? CX Works. I want to take it easy." He buys it, because I am such a phenomenal actor. Except I can't lie for more than 2 seconds about it before I reassure him that I'm actually here for the class.

I go downstairs and change and head back up to the studio. I feel like a pro because I know exactly what equipment to grab. I find my spot and prepare for the worst. Because it's Halloween, Justin and Sarah are dressed up. Sarah looks like a referee, and Justin is the epitome of an 80's workout video. And they throw some 80's music into the mix. It truly is a magical workout experience.

Justin is on the right, Richard Simmons is on the left

Let me take this opportunity to say something that is not at all groundbreaking but it is really encouraging to a fat person who has spent the last month and a half going to the gym: You really do get stronger as you continue. I can hold planks for longer, I'm willing to try something that looks incredibly difficult, I'm able to actually push through the pain (sometimes) and I feel awesome because of it. And holy crap, my confidence in my everyday life is through the roof, now.

It really is an insane change from the days when I used to be convinced that everyone was looking at me and judging me for being out of shape. Some people were even bold enough to say something or make jokes about it. Not anymore. I stand taller, feel better about myself; it's like therapy. And I love therapy. Yes, I realize that makes me sound like a basket case, but who isn't. 

At the end of class, Justin and Sarah give the standard 'No weight training but do cardio' routine. I feel like an idiot, but I double check that swimming falls into the category of cardio, because I am head to the pool after this. So not only do a half hour of intense CX Works, but then I go down to the pool and swim a half mile. A half mile has become my standard.

After a rather uneventful swim (I won't bore you by trying to elaborate on what it's like to think you may actually drown in 3 feet of water) I allow myself a quick steam. My friend Jessi, who shares my apprehension for steam rooms would be glad to know that this too, get's better and easier to stand. It's actually become enjoyable. So stick with the steam room, Jessi. Someday you can be successful at it, like me.

As I exit, I can't help but notice some old guy who is sitting in the hot tub in the nude. Sir the fact that the hot tub is in the gym locker room doesn't make what you're doing something other than skinny dipping. You're like a high school kid only it's lame cause you're by yourself. Put some trunks on.

Core...

Grant has convinced me to go to a class called Dynamic Core. If he had told me I should go to this class not 2 months ago, I would have smacked him and told him to stop mocking me because it's mean. Now, I don't even hesitate. It helps that the class is taught by the Fabulous Kiki. 

I get to the gym cutting it a little close, but with enough time to change and find a spot in the back of the room. It's a barefoot class (honestly, every class should be a barefoot class), but everyone else has mats and tubing and plates, too. Ah, so this is an equipment class and a barefoot class. I grab one of each, as does Grant.

We start with a series of exercises that involve squats to the side and the seemingly impossible squats on tiptoes. But I have to say, as much as I'd love to punch some people in the face and storm out of this class because my muscles hurt so bad, I'm actually having a good time. I'm moving to the music and finding joy in my inability to do some of the exercises. Truth be told, I'm probably hysterical to watch. Anything with a side plank is outrageously hard and I probably look like an idiot even attempting it, but you know, if my feeble attempts amuse you, so be it. At least I'm trying.

At one point, we do a cross lunge where we take our foot back and when we stand up, we kick that foot into the air to our outstretched hand. I'm worried that I may unintentionally kill someone with my insanely muscular legs. But, I reassure myself that if it's that person's time to go, it's their time to go.

We move to some floor exercises and the poor woman in front of me accidentally hits my foot with her hand. Now, you'd think that I would have cause to be upset, but I simply feel bad because she probably was really grossed out to reach back and come into contact with my nasty sweaty foot. She had no idea that was going to happen.

At the end of class, I am nearly dying. I am so sweaty and so warm but I feel so awesome. As I'm putting my stuff together in the locker room, one of the guys who was in the class is commenting on the fact that tonight was really hard. 'Really? What hope do I have if you've been coming for a while and you're still warn out?' Honestly, people. Think about what you say in the locker room or you may cause a fat person to quit the gym.

Death...

I've decided to go to a class alone. As in, without a friend accompanying me. This came at the recommendation of Justin. Somehow he can get me to do things I would never choose to do by myself. That's probably why he's good at what he does. So the class I have been encouraged to attend is a half hour of intense working out focusing on core but with arms and legs in there, too. I am terrified. I feel self-conscious when I do an exercise video in the privacy of my own home and now I have to do a class that I've only ever seen in-shape people do and in I'll walk, some fat person who is going to struggle the entire time.

When I get to the gym, I enthusiastically greet Carla, and express my feelings of nervousness. "You'll have fun!" she tells me. Oh really, Carla? Have you ever done this class? I'll probably hate it and believe me, I will let you know that I hate it. But it's hard to actually be even remotely upset when she's so friendly and trying to be encouraging.

I change and come back up the stairs (those awful, horrible stairs) and head towards the workout studio. There are no joke, probably 25 people outside of the room. Kill me now, because to have to exercise with these people will be inhumane torture. Oh well. I strike up a conversation with a particularly friendly looking woman and ask if the class is always this busy. "No, this is really unusual," she responds. Great. Leave it to the horrible laws of inconvenient coincidences to have me come to a class on the random day when it's actually busy. Screw you, universe!

And boy do I feel the crowdedness when we actually go into the room. I try to find a spot where I can remain somewhat hidden (not easy when you're 6'4" and fat) but all of these spots are taken almost immediately by people who really should not be embarrassed about how they look. There should be some kind of rule about that, similar to the rules about requiring seats be available on trains to seniors or persons with disabilities. Please reserve concealed areas of the workout studio for overweight persons. Slap that on a sign and you could make millions. 

Also, this is my first class that requires me to actually pick up equipment. And I have no idea what to grab. Thank goodness Justin is there and he tells me to grab an orange resistance band with handles and a five pound plate and a mat. So I do. I can't even begin to express how nervous I am. It's not like they're going to ask me to demonstrate everything at the front of the room, but I'm still incredibly nervous for this next half hour.

Praise the lord they start by playing One Direction. Because I am beautiful and I don't know it and that's what makes me beautiful. But not while we're doing crunches and leg extensions. I guarantee that I am not beautiful while this is happening. As the class progresses, I'm happy that I'm kind of keeping up and not feeling discouraged when I have to take a brief rest. I push myself and I don't quit. Even when we do squats. While raising the weight over our heads. And my arms are crying. I didn't know arms could cry.

It's at the end where things start to fall apart. We swap to a lot of stuff in the plank position that I can't do. I have to drop my knees to even remain in the plank position while everyone else is successfully doing one armed planks. But, I'm not ashamed (nor is it particularly edgy for me to say) that these people are in better shape than me and should be able to do things better. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is growth.

Class is over. I've survived. Yes, I have left a puddle of sweat on the floor, but they clean in here, right? The instructors tell everyone not to lift, but they encourage everyone to do some cardio. I almost laugh out loud. But then I think, 'Why not? Push yourself, Sam.' Though that's kind of a lie. I never actually think my name to myself when I am in thought.

I go downstairs, determined to do my fifteen minutes on the elliptical. I start, and Ke$ha keeps me going for about two minutes before I adjust my expected workout time down to ten minutes. And then I decide to stop at the five minute mark. I worked hard, so I'll reward myself with a shorter elliptical workout.

Shake...

I get home from work and my fit roommate is exercising. Gee, thanks for being so fit and still exercising and making me feel incredibly lazy. You're lucky you're so encouraging with my journey towards fitness or I'd want to kick you into a wall. Plus, it gives me good perspective that even fit people struggle and sweat while exercising, so I take it back. Keep up the good work Fit Andrew.

I have plans to go to Zumba with some friends later, but I still want to get in my yoga for the day. Fit Andrew has graciously bequeathed one of his old yoga mats to me, which makes a surprising difference in my workout. I don't fret about my sweat hitting the mat, I don't have to worry about getting crumbs on my back, and I don't slip around on the carpet when I do bridge pose. 

I leave for the gym as soon as I'm done with yoga and meet up with Christine and Lisa. Much like my Pilates experience, I'm the only male in the class and I'm the only person who has no experience with Zumba. This should be fun. After a brief explanation about what will be happening for the next hour, the instructor starts the music.

Let me take this opportunity to say, I have found my calling and my calling is Zumba. Zumba combines my need to workout with my desire to constantly bust a move. And I am REALLY good at busting a move. Many people are surprised to learn that I'm such a good dancer, but it's one of my favorite pastimes. The music is pumping and I'm jumping around, working my hips and flailing my arms in a very controlled way. I am oh so seductive. And 10 minutes in I am oh so sweaty. 

I mean, look at me go. I'm amazing.

Throughout the class, I do find myself having to modify the moves so that I don't keel over, but I surprise myself with my ability to keep up and have fun while exercising. The instructor comments on what a vocal class we are, and I credit myself for that. If anyone wants to do Zumba, I will absolutely go with you and you will absolutely have a blast. 

As the class winds down, we do a final stretching dance. This is the most fun I've ever had at a workout. One of the other members of the class, who must be a regular, tells my friends and me that we should come to the Sunday one too, because we made the class so much more enjoyable. You bet lady. You will see me there.

Forty...

Today I take part in my first ever group exercise class: Pilates. After showering and working up the nerve to drive to the gym, I stand outside the studio and shake because I am so nervous. People are going to see me trying to do the exact same thing as them and the class won't be able to happen because everyone will be laughing at my feeble attempts to raise my feet over my head.

My thoughts are intensely more cynical because I am watching the end of another group exercise class in which people are doing some crazy muscular workouts. I want to cry because I feel so bad for these people and I know I'm going to be in that same position in a matter of moments. I am slightly encouraged because my coworker who has experience in pilates is here and tells me that they tend to have the lights off during the class. Praise be to Jehovah.

The class before mine finally ends, almost 10 minutes of pure torture late. I walk in to the studio, grab a mat (Ew. It's used. Who knows if this has ever been cleaned) and hide in the back of the room. Most of the other people in the class have brought their own mats and I see that all of them are stretching before the class begins. A pre-workout workout, I guess. So I cave to the pressures of the rest of the students and stretch out my sore muscles.

The instructor fiddles with her iPod and shuts off the fans before she finally begins the class. She's playing the most god-awful elevator music versions of top 40 hits from probably 5 years ago. She gives a brief introduction and we start. 3 minutes later, I want to quit, and all I've been doing is sitting upright on a mat and pointing my toes. And this is supposed to be a 45 minute class. Ever since I joined this gym, I have had more near death experiences than I care to think about, and today, it looks like, will be no different.

I kind of always assumed Pilates was more of a workout for women, and the composition of the class would suggest the same. I am the only male in the room, and a majority of the women, save for 3, are over the age of forty. And apparently all of them are in much better shape than I am. This is one of the HARDEST workouts I've ever had to do. So much of it focuses on core strength. The instructor asks us to lay on our backs, swing our feet up over our heads, and bring our legs down in wide circles. No. No lady instructor, I will not be doing that. I will try, but I know I will fail.

Stop that. Stop it right now.

This woman is doing things that, in my opinion, defy both the laws of physics and of biology. I had no idea a body could do things like that, and I watched women's gymnastics during the Olympics. It's incredibly impressive, but I'm only halfway through and my muscles start to ache. I just keep pushing, taking breaks when I need them.

We end the class in 'first position,' and I can only assume that means the Pilates version of ballet first position, but I really have no idea. I dry off with my towel and contemplate offering to mop the floor where I was stationed because I'm sure it's disgusting over there. I put my mat away and the instructor tells me 'Good job.' 'Thanks,' I mutter in reply. I decide she's very impressed that I kept going, even though she was probably very aware that I was having a hard time and she wanted to encourage me.

I go home and take my second shower of the day before noon, and spend the rest of the day attempting to recover. If I'm feeling up to it, I'll go again next Saturday.