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.

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.