Oh, holy mackerel. I did it. I did it. How did I do it because I don’t even…
I’m kind of in a post-exercise endorphin rush. Seriously, truly, and utterly, I never considered myself a person that liked to get, for lack of a better word, sweaty. It always seemed like such an extraordinary process and then, if you got your heart going too fast, it might over beat and kill you. I am an extraordinarily neurotic and nervous person.
I have been doing the 9 week program on the WiiActive, working hard not to miss a day and oh, oh, oh, I so wanted to miss today. I have to get up an hour early tomorrow and because I didn’t bring enough of the great food I bought yesterday to work, I had a pretty throbbing headache to contend with. I just wanted to veg out and when I got home, I ate pretty much a bit of everything we had, ravenous. It certainly wasn’t over the moon terrible/evil/guilty eating, it was just a little bit nuts after being pretty controlled all day. Controlled and pretty frustrated about having to print clipart for people, send excel files that they could create, hearing about fifty dumb blonde jokes (not about dumb blondes, just about every last cliche about blondes you can think of) and dealing with stupid tension with the staff about whose husbands are better “pamperers.”
In that state, forgetting about exercise and setting my neon peaches and cream hair on fire and running into one of the last snowbanks standing sounded remarkably reasonable.
But, eh, I should exercise. I want to exercise a little bit. Yesterday was rough since I’m moving into phase 2 which amounts to more reps, more squats, just more intensity overall and I kind of scraped my way through it. Tonight was longer, but not quite so difficult. I’ve made the conscious decision not to skip exercises that seem harrying because the light has finally dawned on me that being flustered and breathless is kind of the point. That the point is to come up to your line of resistance and push that line forward as far as you can take it, draw back, get your breath in your lungs and push again. For a long time, I was afraid of that breathlessness…I am certain I can tie it into the perfectionism/fear loss of control issues I have where I felt like I could just absently exercise myself into passing out.
Doing this progressive program, I see that isn’t, y’know, something I could fail to pay attention and have happen. It isn’t so fucking likely. Also, I’ve gotten a lot stronger in the past month. I can squat like a Russian dancer. I can outrun the three other idiot runners on the trail. I can do the reverse situps without crying or even feeling my muscles do that weak, autonomous tremble that I stupidly never understood for what it was…my body crying out for strengthening.