Work (Warn) Out

So I mentioned I joined a gym. Yeah... the 180 Fitness that's 19 bucks a month. (I figured I could SPLURGE to get into a gym THAT cheap). AND, as a woman who highly values the worth of her dollar, I've been hitting that gym everyday! But... the problem is... the gym hit back. A WHOLE LOT HARDER than I hit at IT!

Monday I went to the gym around 6 p.m. I worked out my arms. I, having NEVER worked out in a gym in my entire LIFE, was clueless. I walked up to each machine and looked at the little picture of the man to see what part of the body the machine worked. Then I had to read all the instructions on how to work the machine. (Then I had to re-read the instructions about four more times before it CLICKED). I always like to give a little push with the weight the person before me used... ya know... to GAGE how weak I am in comparison to other people. When I worked my legs... at least the weight would almost MOVE. With my arms? I might as well been lifting a brick house. So I lowered the weight. Tried again. Nothing. Lowered the weight. Nothing. Finally I get the machine to move.. KIND of. I went to lower it again... but it was already on the lowest amount of weight. WOW. Noodle arms. So I did my three sets on each machine that had any red on the little man on the machine anywhere in the top region of his body. ON the lowest amount of weight. Then I sat on the crunch bench. There were no instructions on the crunch bench. I'd watched several people do it and figured it was pretty self explanatory. Until I tried it. I strained to pull the back up into a crunch position. Then I looked for a way to adjust it. Then I noticed that people were staring, but NOT one of those snickering twerps offered some guidance. Finally I asked some dude that was trying not to laugh what on earth I was doing wrong. He told me I was sitting on the part that was supposed to lift. SOoo once I got my big BUTT off the lift... I was able to crunch successfully. Well. Kind of.

Apparently being pregnant really screws up a girl's abs. The more I work them, the farther it seems they jab out my belly. Where I could once do fifty or sixty crunches before getting winded... I did fifteen and was about to KILL over DEAD like a mosquito meeting a train. I figured I'd worked out long enough and went home.

Starling asked how my work out went. "Oh it was good! I did a whole bunch of machines and even some ab stuff. I still feel kind of clueless on what to work out, though..." He asked what I had attempted. "My arms.. and all that stuff on the top." He asked if I was sore. "No. Not really. The sorest thing on my body is my MOUTH... GEEZ... I won't chew gum again while I'm working out." He snorted. "You're not doing something right." Geez, Sherlock... you figured that out and didn't even have to see me fumbling over the machines? "Well, I feel great!" He laughed... "Yeah... but after you work out your arms you should feel burnt out. It should be hard for you to lift a bar of soap." Oh. "Well... I only did like 10 pounds. Any more than that and it hurt to push." And who tries to intentionally inflict PAIN on their arms?

But YESTERDAY, Tuesday, when I went to work out my legs at FIVE in the morning, I remembered what Starling said about burning out and all that jazz about its SUPPOSED to hurt. I did all the machines with the little man's legs being colored in red. I'd been there an hour and a half. I didn't know how to tell when I was DONE. When I did three sets on all the machines I headed over to the ab station. I barely made it there. My legs were tweaking out and about to let me fall on my face. I watched all the people doing abs and copied them. Every time I stood up I got dizzy. "Hmm... maybe that means I'm done." So I got back in my car. (Car not PURPLE VAN!) and went home. I felt exhilarated and sore. Woo hoo! I did it RIGHT! By the time 10 p.m. came... my entire BODY ached.

Well. My alarm went off at six this morning. The sheer movement of turning my body to shut the dang thing off, brought a near scream to my lips. When I sat up, my mid section BROKE in half. And it hurt too bad to EASE myself back down. I just flopped backwards taking the duct tape approach. (Do it quick and get it over with). My chest hurt, my legs hurt, my stomach hurt, my back hurt, my neck hurt, my bum hurt. I thought of what I could possibly work out that wasn't already sore. My brain. Nah. I don't feel like exercising THAT muscle. I went back to sleep. When I DID finally get up to feed Brighton, I looked like a stooped over ninety year old woman. I winced with every movement of my leg. Starling looked a little too amused for my liking. "I don't feel good. I'm aching all over." I went to take my temperature. 98.5. "I feel like I have the flu." Starling said, "It’s from working out. It’s normal." Hmm... that certainly hadn't occurred to me. Normal. Pain and agony isn't something that motivates me to exercise. “It’s usually the worst two days after .” TWO days? Its only ONE day after… so it’ll get WORSE??

Anyway. I attempted several productive things today. But walking behind a vacuum proved too painful to my legs. Folding laundry hurt my arms. Washing dishes was okay until I had to BEND over to put the dishes in the dishwasher. So I decided to blog instead. It only uses my fingers. The ONLY part of my body not beat up and bruised.