Post-Workout Meltdown

A couple nights ago,  I attended a Boot Camp fitness class for the first time.  I really didn't know what to expect.  Shortly after the class began, I heard the instructor say we'd be doing 1600 reps of exercises to begin with. 

Wait, what?  Did she just say 1600? 

She had a list of exercises for us all to complete, fifty reps at a time.  Everyone kind of works at their own pace until they have completed all the reps.  For example,  some of the exercises were knee to elbow crunches, mountain climbers, push ups, scissor kicks, fire hydrants,  squats, lunges, and the list goes on.  You complete your fifty reps and then move on to the next exercise. 

Let me just say, some of those exercises were extremely difficult for me to do.  I hadn't done a lot of them in years, and others I had never tried at all.  I was struggling.  But I pushed through and finished to the best of my ability.  

But I was the last one finished.  I don't get easily embarrassed, but for some reason that night, it just hit me in the gut.  Whether it was unfounded or not, I was disappointed in myself.  I got mad at myself.  (Yeah, and all this after I had just posted on Wednesday about having a positive attitude in group fitness classes.)

For the first time since I have started this journey, I was just plain ticked off at what I had allowed my body to become.   Angry at myself for being complacent for so long.   Embarrassed that I couldn't keep up when once upon a time I could have.  Frustrated that no one else looks at me and sees an athlete inside when I know she's there waiting to get out. 

After that, we did some more exercises.  Then, when class was over, I got in my car and had a little pity party meltdown and cried on the way home.  Then cried on my husband's shoulder when I got there.   

He quoted what I wrote Wednesday right back to me, "All that matters is that you're doing it."

I am so glad he can help me put things into perspective.  Now, two days post workout, I can look at everything objectively.  All that matters is that I was there.  And I worked out hard as I could.  And I'm making steps in the right direction little by little. 

In August with my nephew, Tripp, and daughter, Ashlyn.  BEFORE the start of my weight-loss journey. 

This week with my new nephew, Liam.

I wasn't going to post any "progress" pictures until I had hit the 30 pound mark, but I thought reminding myself how far I've come was encouragement and good incentive to keep going. In the two pictures above, I see huge changes already.  Down a pants size and 23 pounds.  

Today, I think the only things on my body that aren't sore are the bottoms of my feet and my face.  It took some effort to get out of bed and I've been shuffling around here, working out the stiffness.  

Jared asked me if I need a cane. That made me laugh.  It hurts to laugh. 

But, I will take the soreness as a badge of honor.  And when I go back to the class, maybe I will earn another badge.