Well, now I’ve gone and done it, but drastic times (read: last scale reading) call for drastic measures.
I signed myself up for boot camp classes, and went to my first one last night.
What an intense, completely exhausting and absolutely fun way to spend an hour.
Though my sore body is in total disagreement.
My body ran in place, did leg lifts, bicep curls and squats using a 12-pound bar, curtsy lunges and dozens of other exercises that kicked my ass – including planks (done badly, I might add, but still, planks!)
I had expected there to be a lot of “meatheads” or uber-fit goddesses to make me feel even worse about myself, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Everyone, from the instructor to the other attendees, were so friendly and welcoming that I seriously can’t wait to go back next week – several times.
It just felt so good making my body actually do something, and while I huffed and puffed a little louder than some of the other attendees, I knew I was doing something amazing for myself.
And just as I conked out at 9:45 p.m., an ungodly early hour for me, I felt proud of myself for actually going through with it and not sticking with the Nikki norm of, “Tomorrow’s another day.”
And when I had to gingerly ease myself down the stairs thanks to my aching thighs, I feel proud because I got them from moving, not from carrying extra weight (though I’m sure that doesn’t really help much).
In all honesty, boot camp was the first step – the first serious step – I’ve taken since starting Run, Nikki, Run. I feel like I’ve done myself a disservice for wasting so much time not doing anything, and to myself, I apologize because the next few weeks ain’t gonna be easy, but I’ll get better and stronger and fitter and happier with myself.
Hup two, three, four …