The year of yes is still on, a month in. I have so many thoughts I want to put to paper (does that phrase apply in this digital format?) In a "let's go for it" moment, I decided to enroll in an exercise class. This cardio kickboxing (!!) class takes place at our school’s gym, and while I didn't know what to expect, there’s definitely some kicking going on for sure... some kicking of my you-know-what! Thank goodness for my friend Bee, who is taking the class with me. She is strong, fit and I am so glad she is with me every Thursday in that God-forsaken fitness studio. I’ve never been super into exercise– I was hoping that me walk-running for 25 minutes three days a week to class was enough, but given my occasional windedness climbing the subway station stairs I can say with certainty that it’s not. Bee and I took a Pilates class last year, but it wasn’t nearly as “intense” as this one. But… year of yes. Why not try something new?
The instructor scares the crap out of me; he’s the kind of guy that is rock solid, a wall of a man. I’m 2/2 on getting called out for not squatting low enough during this one exercise, although I’m not sure if it is physically possible for me to get that low and not fall on my behind just yet. I know these things come with practice, and I know I’m just a sensitive girl, but I’m trying my best and pushing myself out of my comfort zone and feeling like a bit of a flop. Exercise in general is not in my wheelhouse; I made sure to take every possible yoga class to pass my PE requirement to avoid the mile run in high school (although for what it’s worth, yoga is difficult, too!) I was on the track team in middle school and for one precious year of high school, and always came in last place. My ego is such that I figured that stuff just wasn’t for me, though I did get my mile time to a trim seven minutes and those years forever changed the shape of my body. Wow, even writing that makes me want to get fit, but the WORK that goes into it makes me think otherwise. I’m a lazy lump! I am trying my best though, and am putting this here to say that I’m proud of myself, even though I am drenched in sweat two seconds in and I’m out of breath the entire time.
I cannot lie– it feels good when that Thursday class is over and I have my blood pumping (yes, I’ve been talking like it’s just the worst thing in the world but it’s only once a week.) I guess the doctors (and Bee) are right– those endorphins really do something. We’ll see how this goes. I’m no MMA fighter, but ready to get shredded (haha) and hope to know how to kick someone in the nuts if they deserve it.