I have seriously been slacking on the fitness posts. It’s not because I’ve been slacking on the fitness front but more because my routine lacks variety. I use the term “fitness routine” extremely literally. There is not much variation in my workouts from week to week.
When I first started exercising regularly, my goal was to find exercises that I could commit to doing at least 3-4 days a week. For me, that was walking and yoga. Walking was enjoyable enough that I knew I could keep myself motivated to do it and, if I couldn’t, then my dogs surely would. I liked the convenience of working out at home as opposed to the gym, so I also invested a few yoga and pilates DVD’s. I have never felt a burn like I felt after that first workout. After doing the DVD several times, I absolutely fell in love with it. Yoga has been life changing for me in every cliche possible. It helps me feel more relaxed, centered, and energized. That’s why I still do it 2-3 days a week. Plus, I believe all the stretching seriously helped me ease into running.
Enter current fitness routine: Run, yoga, run, yoga, run, run, rest. I wake up at 5:00 in the morning before work because I like not having to worry about squeezing in a workout at the end of the day. This little routine had been going along splendidly for about six months, and I was just getting psyched to start running outside (especially since the Easter Bunny left me a Garmin Forerunner in my cleverly hidden basket).
Then, tragedy struck.
This OCD girl’s routine was interrupted by my stupid left foot. I’m not even sure what is wrong with my foot, but I’m going to go ahead and self diagnose a possible stress fracture. This is common among athletes and can occur from repetitive
abuse use. It’s not like I run excessively long distances or even at impressive speeds, but apparently my left foot was sick of waking up at 5 AM four days a week to get pounded into the treadmill for a solid 40 minutes.
After having a mild panic attack at this disruption (I’m well aware that about 3 mental health diagnoses are relevent here), I quickly formulated a new plan. I would actually workout at……..the gym. I think the last time I went to a gym was in seventh grade phys ed. It was about to get real, folks.
The good thing about unexpected change is that it forces you to broaden your horizons. In this case, I decided to give the stationary bike a whirl and it turns out that I love it! It was incredibly invigorating to see how much milage I could rack up in a short amount of time. I felt like walking up to everyone I saw and telling them that I just knocked out a cool 15 miles on my sweet one wheeled bike. It just sounds awesome. I also tried the elliptical for the first time in about, oh, ever, and that wasn’t so bad either. The only downside was that the print in my glamour magazine was too small and I could’t read it while bobbling back and forth and trying not to hit myself with the swinging hand thingies. Apparently you can get some milage on the elliptical too, although this makes absolutely no sense to me. Oh well.
Then my friend convinced me to come to a Saturday morning yoga/pilates fusion class. The first one was incredibly relaxing but there has been more pilates work as of late and it is certainly challenging me mentally and physically. Good. I needed a little kick in the glutes (although it would be nice if my glutes didn’t hurt for three days afterward).
Following yoga, there is a Zumba class. I knew I had to try this at least once since everyone and their mother (meaning my sister and actual mother) are raving about this. This dance based class was going to be more than interesting considering it took me about 17 wedding receptions before I really nailed the Electric Slide. I think there was one point in Zumba when I stopped following the instructor completely and just started flailing my arms erratically and doing 7th grade basketball shuffle drills.
Perhaps my most adventurous fitness feat was the completion of a private “pole dancing” class taken with a few rowdy females and one very flexible bachelorette.
I have a whole new respect for the exotic dancing profession.
First of all, anyone who can’t learn the Electric Slide in under 60 hours should not be given a pole as a dancing partner. Second, no one should be surrounded by that many mirrors.
I did learn a few things. Those bruises covering that innocent strippers shins and thighs may not be from her pimp after all. There is some serious risk of injury from doing the fireman’s twirl around a hard, metal cylinder. Also, it’s a good thing I decided not to pursue stripping as a means of financing my education because I’m pretty sure I would get fired (which might be on par with my getting fired from a Taco Hut). I just might be the worst dancer ever. So, I think I’ll stick to perfecting my line dances to be performed at various weddings, dive bars, and bar mitzvahs (should I ever get invited to one).
Whew. You probably got a workout just reading that little novella.
Here’s to healing feet and fitness adventures!