I’m so glad that I didn’t miss Fat Camp tonight. Not that I was going to. But it was a doozy.
We started with sprints. Sprint one minute, recover walk for two. Repeat. Several times. So…the bitch who hates running (that would be me, y’all) ran. I ran like I was on fire, at a 6.5. Not kidding. My legs? Felt like jello. Feel like jello.
I got the runner’s high for the first time. Nobody told me that the world is sparkly when you are in the middle of the high. (And all organic, too!)
Combine that with 12 bike minutes, 12 cybex minutes, 5 minutes on the treadmill at an 8% incline and 4 different strength training exercises on the Bosu ball…and I’m whipped. Done.
I am going to be crippled tomorrow, I just know it.
But at least I had burned about 950 calories before I left the building. That’s a ton, yo.
Remember the Bosu ball?
Yeah, that. Flip it over and do 20 pushups. Or stand on the squishy side. With 8 pound weights in each hand and punch the air 40 times.
I do like the bosu ball. I like it much better than other torture devices.
Know what? I’m getting the hang of this whole gym rat thing. I didn’t die when I ran. I felt like I could possibly split in half but I didn’t die. I am stronger. I don’t hate it. I can actually demonstrate and coach just a little.
Don’t get me wrong…I have a long, long way to go. But, I am only about one biscuit away from a major milestone. If I can mentally get past it, there will be much celebration.
And it is a mental game, for sure.
I feel like I talk about Fat Camp all the time. And to anyone who will listen. Part of it is because I feel like I know what I’m talking about. I have researched HFCS to death and I dislike it more every day. I’m trying to get a handle on my stress and anxiety and, honestly, exercise helps.
I know. You hear that every day on every news Health-watch program. But it’s true.
This process…”journey” sounds so wimpy…but this process is just what I needed. I’d say “when I needed it” but that’s not entirely true. I could have (and should have) done this a year ago. I tried…with the whole swimming thing…but I got bored and uninspired.
This? Is just enough. And pushes me. And makes me think of nothing other than one foot in front of the other. I don’t think about the next 15 years or the van that is nickel and dime-ing me to death or the stagehand work dry spell that comes every summer.
There is something to be said for an empty mind.
You know, in a safe place. I’d hate to be driving or something.