Beginning to Regret

I took my beautiful Miss M for a walk on Wednesday – we both need more exercise and it is indeed far more fun doing it with a friend!! She should be trying to lose weight, and I understand it's out of my control (I didn't give that body to her with conditions), so the only thing I can do is try to inspire her, so I dragged her around the oval for half an hour.

She was telling me that our local council run an active program – you can find details on the Logan Active program here:

http://www.logan.qld.gov.au/facilities-and-recreation/sport-and-leisure/active-logan

They run free or low-cost activities for residents – everything from walking groups, to Zumba, aqua-aerobics, boot camps and personal training. For $3. Seriously, where else can you get someone to yell at you and push your buttons for such a bargain basement price?

No time like the present I say, and the sun shouldn't set before we dive head-first into some serious fitness fun. Friday night offers BoxFit classes (which they promote as a fun and safe environment – but, whatever!!) so the plan was set. Naturally, she piked out at the last minute, but I told her to never fear, I would put my big girl panties on, and go by myself, but I woudn't need those big girl panties for long, soon enough I would have a trim, taut and terrific ass. I wonder if that inspired her?

Off I go to a small open-air gymnasium right beside a skate park full of testorone-filled teenage boys. Again, whatever. A lovely fellow whose name I never knew was running the group with eight other women who were significantly more box-fit than I was, and a cute little man named Neil who was as novice as I was and happy to partner me.

We were eased into it slowly with jogging on the spot before we got busy attacking a punching bag, then launched without warning into some terror-inducing cardio exercises which involved me doing sit ups and punching upwards at poor Neil, and sets of punching and pushups (which sound nice together, but I promise they are far more vicious than that!) and ending with some back-breaking leg scissor exercises.

The nice man whose-name-I-never-knew (who did say he took it easy on us newbies, but I doubt very much there was an altruistic bone in his body) said that we would suffer on Sunday. This was on Friday evening (again, who would want to start their weekend with this kind of torture after a long day of work?) and certainly by Saturday my muscles were gently groaning at me and I was wondering if he really knew what he was talking about. But now it's Sunday morning and as I sat upright and tried to swing my legs out of my bed, every muscle in my back, butt, boobs, side and under my freaking chin screamed at me in rebellion. Ack. It's 7am, I'm on my second coffee, and I think a long warm bath might be in order for my morning.

Box Fit = Big Ouch.

Happy Sunday, boys and girls, and let's get fit!!

Love,

Me