FIT

The class is called FIT 60, but it could more accurately be called DIE 60 or VOMIT 60.  I've been going for about 10 weeks now, twice a week, as it very conveniently falls on the same days and times as Dexter's school at the YMCA.  And at the end of every class I haul my ass out of the gym and drag my red face up the stairs to Dexter's class room and he sees me and smiles and runs over for a hug and touches my shirt dripping wet with sweat and suddenly he doesn't want to hug me any more.

Every evening, after I've had class and I get up off the sofa with a series of "ouch-ouch-ouches" I tell John what we did today.  50 sit-ups, followed by 50 tuck jumps, then 40 of each, then 30, then 20, then 10.  And then follow that with 21 push ups and 21 more sit-ups, with some walking lunges, and do six rounds of that.  He hasn't had the pleasure of listening to me bitch about today's workout where we ran a mile, then did 20 push ups and 20 squats, then ran a half a mile, then push ups and squats, then ran a quarter mile, then push ups and squats, then ran an eighth of a mile, then push ups and squats, then ran ANOTHER F-ING MILE.  Oh my dear sweet jesus.  I do not enjoy running.

And yet every Tuesday and every Friday I am there.  On time.  Water bottle full.  Ready to go.  Hopeful that maybe this time we won't have to run a lot.  Wondering if I'll be able to do whatever is asked.

Why?  Why go through the torture?

I kind of love it, really.  Yes, I groan and roll my eyes and tell Geoff that this shit is worse than basketball practice.  Yes, I bitch when I get home, and yes I am still sore almost every time.  But I LIKE the sore.  I like knowing that I am making my muscles do some work.  I like looking back at my work-out and saying "Yeah.  I did that.  I totally did all that crap and I lived to tell about it."  And I like feeling, after ten weeks, that it's easier to do 20 push ups.  I like knowing that I can now do 50 sit-ups when ten weeks ago there's just no way in hell I could have.  And I like feeling, finally, that I just might be able to run without dying.

In short, I enjoy being FIT.  Vomit and all.