Just Kill Me Now

So I've been workin' out.  Liftin' weights and such. (don't ask about the Sarah Palin accent, not sure where it came from).  I have a new workout partner who we shall call LESLIE!!! Well Ms. Leslie is one tuff beeyatch (not said with malice, mind you, instead spoken in pain).  Each week I drag my sorry out-of-shape ass to the local gym and secretly pray that Leslie has met with some sort of issue that will keep her from her killing-G-with-a-workout duties.  Not like she got ran over by a bus issue, just maybe that she had to meet with a client, or had a flat tire, or the swine-flu.  Nothing MAJOR people.  But no, she shows up regularly to punish me.

Now you may be asking "G, why on earth would you pick Ms. Leslie as your workout partner if you feel this way"?  To which I would reply, "Because I'm VAIN for hell sakes!  I want to have a rockin' MILF bod. DUH!"  And Leslie is strong and not wussy and won't let me be wussy and won't skip out on the workout because Einstein's is calling our name.  Leslie wants to workout.  I've never had a workout partner that actually wants to really workout.  And because I'm also SCARED, I don't dare stand her up either.  And so every Tuesday and Thursday I go, with trepidation in me heart, to work my muscles (said Muskles).

Well, yesterday way like any other Tuesday.  Leslie: you ready for some legs?  Me: isn't Tuesday arms? (Because unlike a regular girl, I actually have a stronger upper body than lower body.  Can you say HE/SHE?)  Leslie: We haven't done legs in awhile, so let's do legs. (Leslie loves legs.  She is the kind of gal that kicks most guys asses on the uphill climb mountain biking).  Me (in a tiny little defeated voice): um, ok.  So she shows the the 1st circuit (because there is always more than one), and by the end of the first of 3 times doing the 1st circuit, I'm cramping.  Leslie has powered thru 2 times by the time I am hobbling thru the 1st.  But I manage to make it through all 3 (CONFESSION:  I only did 10 reps on the 1 legged squats.  Shhhh.).  Then she shows me circuit numero dos.  Calves.  OK, I can do calves.  More hamstrings.  Greaaat.  never mind that I already have shooty burny pains from the back of my knees up thru to the top of my ass.  Let's do some MORE!  Then some abs.  Normally I hate abs the most, but not today.  Hamstrings definitely win.  I start with abs.  OK I am seeing some improvements in strength there.  Then I muscle thru the calves.  No problemo!  Then the hamstrings.  Again.  I barely make it through 10 on each set while Leslie actually LAUGHS AT ME!  Or with me.  I'm not sure.  Anyway.  I figure we have to be done right?  I can barely walk.  But nooooooo.  One more circuit.  I'm figuring abs and telling myself, "You can do some abs, it will be fine".  About this time I also start thinking about tapping various spots on my face because I've been reading about this stress reduction technique where you tap all around your body and tell yourself stuff while you think about your issues and supposedly, poof!, you don't have an issue anymore.  EFT or something.  You know the guy that says, "I CAN MAKE YOU THIN!".  But I'm too self-conscious, so I don't.  We head into the group room and she pulls out a step and two risers.  OK, Leslie, what are you up to?   And then she tells me, you guessed it, one more set of, all together now, HAMSTRINGS!  I honestly thought about walking out right then.  Sort of like my disastrous Mexican bikini wax (oh! rojo!) where I wanted to jump off the table and run out of the "spa" screaming with half a bush wax while trying to put on my pants, but didn't, and instead just went to my happy place until it was over.  Pretty much just like that.  So I do the first set.  Ouch.  Then we do some sit-ups, for which I am actually grateful for.  Then set number two.  This time Leslie "forgets" that she is helping me place the weights between my feet and starts on her own set.  I think, "I can do it!" flop around like a fish out of water for a minute trying to get the weights positioned correctly, do so, then attempt to propel my body forward to the right spot on the step.  Instead I spaztically throw myself forward all of about 2 inches and land half on the step, half off with a loud "umph!"  at which point Leslie starts giggling and can't really stop while she helps me again.  We finish up and I gingerly walk out of the gym saying, "see you Thursday!".

You know when you realize that you are so sore now, that by tomorrow you will be crippled, and the next day may just possibly be even worse?  That's how I felt all day yesterday.  My legs actually collapsed under me in Kohls.  Luckily I caught myself and didn't sprawl on the floor.  By 8:30 I was ready for bed.  I would have taken a bath, but the Z-man used all the hot water for his bath.  Inconsiderate much?

I woke up this morning pretty much as expected-broken.  I need to paint but it just ain't gonna happen today.  I want to Zumba but I'm not sure I can.  I dread having to pee because lowering myself to the toilet is such an ordeal.  I just want to sit.  I know it doesn't make much sense, but I'm going to go take a hot bath with epsom salts and hope that my muscles loosen up enough to go to Zumba.  If not, I may just find a stack of books and read in the sun all day.  It is such a beautiful day.  Even my hardcore workout husband would understand because he has been just this sore before. 

Oh Leslie.  I love ya.  I really do.  But I'm saying it for the record:  I AM ONLY DOING 12 REPS UNTIL DECEMBER.  Self-preservation mode has kicked in.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to hobble off to the bath.  Is it too early for wine?  Yeah?  Fine, I'll take some green tea instead.