The burn

Last year, I was not quite the gym rat I should have been. Once we moved to Fayeteville, I began trying to make up for that. I joined the Fayetteville equivalent of the Average Joe gym from the movie Dodgeball. The people are incredibly friendly and knowledgeable. What's especially fabulous about my Cross Fit class is that I'm the only person who comes to that particular time spot. It's like having a personal trainer.

On my off days from Cross Fit, I head over to a gym on Post that has a little tot room inside of a room that contains cardio equipment. I happened to read in some Ft Bragg magazine that they were offering one free person trainer session, so I signed up to see what they could show me to do in that little room.

Since our schedule this week is packed with getting Neil ready and spending time with him, I set up my appointment for today, an hour after my Cross Fit class ended. I happened to progress in my cross fit class today, doing Burpees (hate the word, it sounds like something Zach would say and then laugh) without my knees on the ground and doing Explosions without holding on to anything. It's taken me a month to get that far. Needless to say, I was already so tired by the time I got to my personal trainer appt.

She had me doing jumping squats and jumping lunches, more burpees (seriously, couldn't they have come up with a better name?), and all manner of core to target my non-existent lower abs. I was pretty sure my legs were going to give out. I've never had a personal trainer, but I expected them to show me how to do something, write it down, and go from there. I didn't think they would actually make me work when they weren't getting paid.

I still can't climb the stairs without holding on, and I think I might not be able to sit down tomorrow without help. Off to have Oreos and milk.